IMPERFECT Lady

Celebrate my Badassery.

It is the eve of 19 years.

Nineteen years of leaving behind the only life I had known to dare dream of changing the legacy I was born into.

 

This wasn't a dream of mine.

The truth fell into me - and once you know - you can't not know.

 

The woman who began this legacy changing journey was only a seed of an idea.

I had no role models or anyone to help guide me along.

My body and I felt our way forward.

 

We didn't blink or make pretty all the what is - there are in life.

No matter how the truth presented itself, we accepted it.

 

Loving what is - as Byron Katie says.

 

I had to love the shocking, heartbreaking, and the betrayals - from family and friends - and embrace reality.

 

In the early years this was hard - for I wasn't used to standing shoulder to shoulder with my truths and how reality was.

 

Coming from a family of child sexual abuse, there are so many truths that are unspoken and unaddressed - and I was now the one speaking the unspeakable.

 

I would not have dreamed that 19 years later I would still be standing alone outside my family of origin - 13 siblings and one parent are alive and well - and continuing to spin the old family legacy - repeating and repeating.

 

Like an endless mad musical - barely missing a beat.

 

I remember in years of past December 4th was a hard date.

Breaking my heart as I still stood alone.

 

My heart isn't as exposed or bare - and maybe more love and peace and joy have surrounded it and hold it up.  

 

I feel grateful.

Deeply grateful for my journey today. I would not trade it for anything.

 

I am in awe of where I walked, how long and how alone - and yet fully supported by others - non family that feel like family.

 

My vision was for the generations behind me - not those who I started walking with. In the early days I could feel the weight of having others step in my footprints.

Those foot prints had to matter.

They had to be clear, honest and bold.

 

My intentions were to stand against abuse. 

Against those who supported abuse.

The line to me was clearly seen.

 

The only way was to walk differently.

To respond differently.

To love differently.

To eagerly welcome all truths and respond in kind.

 

This woman who sits here today is in awe and has such enormous gratitude to the younger me who set out on this journey, alone, broken and so laid bare. I had no way of knowing I would get to here.

 

Here being a fuller version of me.

 

A legacy changer.  A woman who will stand up to family and authority and to lead herself where others feared to go. 

 

I had to give up the life I had - in order to get the life I could be proud of.

 

The younger me who sat with the detective - only knew she would stand beside the little girl inside of her. The wounded Me.  It appeared at that time, she was the only one who would.

 

Those first weeks, months and years were some of my hardest lived.  Yet they also carried with them empowering strength building. 

 

In denial we deny what is, the truth, and even how we feel or what we want.

Living a truthful life it is the opposite. 

Nothing can be denied.

For to deny is to deny who you are.

 

On this eve 19 years later, I am who I am there is no denying.

I am comfortable with the new me and the changes I have made.

I am curious of where my family is, what they think and how they feel.

Mostly though, these 19 years later - I think of them less and less.

My life has filled the holes where they used to be.

 

I could sit with what I lost - Or I can celebrate what I have gained.

 

I will celebrate tomorrow. 

Me

And the journey.

I will celebrate being the woman I needed way back then.

I will celebrate my badassery.

 

 

Skip It

This is one of the first holidays I can remember - skipping - more or less.  I am cooking a dinner for my husband and myself; but there is not the houseful of family gathering this year. 

 

In the past I have heard others speak of 'skipping' a holiday - of just treating it like a regular day.  And, at the time I thought, that even if you didn't participate, you would still feel the holiday.  

 

Today however, without company coming over and us just being here, doing what we typically do - there was no holiday.

 

This can be helpful for those who are set back during the holidays - due to family complications or death and grief etc.  You truly can skip it.

 

In the years since I met my husband, we have not missed a holiday. Even when my first born was 6 days old, we traveled to attend Thanksgiving with family.  And we have never had one holiday alone - this feels different - but not in a bad way.

 

I am okay with family being here and I love that we are okay with them not being here.

 

I believe you are the creator of the holiday. You can make it big or very small - or skip it all together.  I love that you can skip it.  

 

What I thought when I was out for my walk. The holiday is all in our heads and traditions and perhaps memories. But today, was a day.  Just a day. We added the 'special' to it.

 

And often that "special meaning" adds lots of angst.  For with it comes family.  The pasts, those passed and even the quandary of those estranged. But a normal day where you do what you love, take a nap, do more of what you love, go for a walk and make dinner - it seemed like I was more present in my day.

 

If you find the holidays are for the birds, you can skip it!

 

It's called Artist

Art as therapy is something that is an interesting adventure.  The piles of things I make often represent the outcome of channeling my anxiety or perhaps waylaying it.

 

Art in itself is odd.

Being called an artist odder still.

 

I am drawn to doing things with my hands - but it mostly feels like my body and soul need to make things.  

 

Not just things; but things that carry energies of joy and feelings of love.

 

When I was unpacking for the Art Show - I said over and over "Oh I love this one." It was like I wasn't there when I made it.   

 

Expressing my feelings in art - is perhaps getting in touch with the feelings I had long been detached from.  It is like my body now craves being surprised by the things my hands create.

 

When I am working, I decide things by feelings.  The colors and the designs in the fabric that seem to dance together are what I love.  There is magic in pairing certain colors together. 

I still feel like a beginner and I have been sewing art quilts for over 20 years.

 

It mostly feels like I am selling my lessons or what I am practicing on - and that I am working towards a goal I cannot see.  Mostly I am present with my art and where it is at this time.

 

As my art continues to weave and change - so do I.

 

The energy that comes forth in my art - refuels me.

I am grateful to make art.

I am grateful it makes my body feel joy and it tickles me.

And grateful that others see what I feel and even more take my art home with them.

Being an artist is more of a feeling than a label.

 

Second to doing art, is enjoying the art of others. I love when I am surprised and made to feel something when seeing what others do with their hands.

 

Art carries a feeling - a message from a soul.

I looked up the definition of "Artist". 

"a person who creates art (such as painting, sculpture, music, or writing) using conscious skill and creative imagination."

I agree the combination of skill and imagination is what make the magic.

There is a quote about "Worry is a poor way to use your imagination."  Doing art give my mind a better way to be used.

 

Often instead of thread of worry, I have piles of un-made pieces I can't wait to do.

My aunt whose sewing machine I inherited when she passed away - used to worry that she would die before creating all the ideas she had.  I get this.  And the more you do, the more ideas grow out of nowhere.

 

Art is a therapy for me, it keeps my wandering mind entertained. 

And maybe I am creating images that bring me love, peace and joy.

 

Artist isn't about me - it is about what comes when I follow my imagination.

I am inspired by others and use their ideas and make them my own.

 

I don't take being an artist seriously; but I do making art.

My life is better when I find the time to do things that bring me joy and excites my imagination.

I feel that my soul speaks through my art.

In looking at my art, I love my soul.

I love the playful colorful joy it expresses.

Perhaps my soul has a name - it's called artist.

 

( I have been going through old pictures - deleting them to make room on my devices. It is fun to see the older ones.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

It is a Holiday.

Holidays look a lot like your relationship with your family. Those of us who are standing outside of our family of origin, we see the holidays as fractured.  The lineage is broken - and the extended parts no longer work.  We are starting from square one. The traditions - if you decide to have them - begin here.

 

The holidays bring to mind family, and if yours is broken - it brings that up too. 

They come to mind and your heart feels old wounds. Our child self feels out of sorts. There is an odd tug of war between the past and the present.

The holiday cheer loses its tone - for we can't just think of our own family - we think of our past family.

 

I lost the sacredness of the holidays - when the sacredness of my family disappeared.

For there is no way to separate family from the holidays.

So my holidays appear more like a day.

 

Just a day - maybe with a bigger meal and some fancy things - perhaps a decorated home - but a day.

 

What I do find sacred is my relationships with my husband and children.

I find my truth and my integrity with them IS more than any holiday. 

More than the past these holidays commemorate.

 

Where I used to focus on the holiday - my attention now is on the relationships I have with family.  

 

I am grateful not just on Thanksgiving. I am grateful so many times on so many normal days for so many ordinary things.  

 

Perhaps because my family of origin fell apart for me - I celebrate family.

I know what it is not - and more importantly - I know what is important. And attending a holiday dinner is not that important.  

 

Truth, freedom, authenticity, love, respect, friendship - to name a few - these are important.   

 

I love when my family is together and I love them when they are not.

 

Holidays mean less to me - because my holidays won't make my family better or less.  

My family and the holidays truly are separate.  Each time we are together it is a family holiday.

 

When these holidays come I focus on my present family - the best I can.  

 

I feel for so many whose families are broken. It sucks this time of year.  Some how holidays show all our cracks.

 

I think my way of dealing with them is to lessen their importance - to not give them the power or sacredness above the present.

Each day I am alive and living life with love and integrity - it is a holiday.

 

Without the truths.

I used to believe that we all knew what truth was and that some of us just chose to not live by it.

 

I now believe it is rare to be raised with truth as the core component in the relationship between parent and child. That many parents feel they can spare the child by leaving them in the dark about some truths.

 

Often these truths are life shaping ones.  Ones that would feel like holes you intuitively feel; but can't put a finger on its content.

 

I just assumed everyone knew their own truths - and the generational truths of their families.

 

Yet, I was 46 before I was hit in the face by truths that shaped my life - or more how my life was crippled by their concealment.

 

It was hard for me to speak truthfully about my feelings or stand up to truths that appeared when abuse was exposed.  

 

And it seems a backwards way to live, where lies are easier to speak.

 

I am not sure if you can know the truth - when it is normal to have relationships built upon pretend and cowardly steering away from truths. 

 

Truths that would color a person differently.

 

Often others will speak of my truths - but not their truths.

I find this interesting.  I have bravely sat with ugly truths. Learning how they feel shocking and horrid and yet so comforting and regulating.

They allow me to see the world without holes where lies live.

 

Some may find it confusing to think of lies as holes. But, if you keep important things away from a child, you are creating a world that crucial pieces are missing.

 

Folks don't typically lie about mundane things, they will often lie about things that matter and are character defining.

 

Giving a child a false picture of their world. They live in this make-believe space calling it real.  Calling it even truth.

 

When truth is really fake, they don't know what truth is - if that makes sense.

 

Just because you call it a truth, it doesn't make it so. Or just because you leave out the truths, it doesn't make them disappear.

 

Again, while abuse and being raised in a cult like religion had a great impact on forming who I was, how I saw myself and the world.  The bigger missing piece was simple hard truth.

 

Just becoming familiar with truth - in all its facets.

 

Folks pretending to be someone they are not is far more normal than we'd like to believe.

 

Sometimes we hide small things. Seemingly inconsequential things. But more often than not what is hidden are ugly truths.  Sick behaviors and/or bad things that happened to us. Or moments of poor choices and things we wish we hadn't done.

 

There are folks who do bad things and then there are those who refuse to see them in the truth of who they are.

 

My truthful feeling about my father, Fear - was not reflected in how my mother engaged with him. She acted and treated him like he didn't have this predilection to abuse children.

Living in her house, you would not be able to tell by her actions anything was amiss. Her truth was missing in her actions.

 

There were odd events that now make sense; but life didn't change.

It was like the truth made a brief appearance - and then false narration covered it back up.

 

Even when my father was in the Houghton County Jail. My mother stated in a letter to the family, that He was on trial by the state of Michigan; but not by our family.  

 

Like the state pursued the truth - but we would not judge him by these sexual abuse truths. It felt to me, like we would continue to call him dad and treat him as such.

 

This truth fearing way of living, makes for crazy making.

But it assures that family is family - no matter what truth appears - that could tear it apart.

 

I am sure there are many examples in many dysfunctional homes who will water down and make nice things that need to be exposed.

 

I believe when the truth is kept away, we keep away from our own truths.

When you keep a distance from your self - you can't be you.

 

You don't know who you are.

 

I recall feeling this huge sense of relief when the worst of the worst was exposed about my family. I made sense.  I didn't make sense with the truth hidden. Or worse I felt something was wrong with me.  

 

Bottom line, when we keep truths from our children - we raise them in a world where they don't know what truth is - they never met it.

 

I wonder what it does to our minds and the files in our heads - when we label things incorrectly.

 

Labeling each incident and experience as it is - is not common place.

For some reason we fear the truth and it being exposed.

We learn to live in the complicated space of holes and false information.

 

Like having a map that leads to nowhere - but believing it has a real destination.

Or a map of fake towns and destinations.

 

I am very skeptical that there can be love amidst the lies.

Or can love even co-exist with lies.

Does love need the truth in order to grow and evolve and love yourself?

And, in the end do you just love the lies.

 

What is life if truth is left out?

 

In my experience the absence of truth is directly correlated with the absence of the sense of self.

 

I was 46 when the truth crashed in and I didn't know who I was - for I had never lived with truth before.  To live with it, to speak of it, to view your world without holes and no silence - changes your life completely.

 

There was no part of me that hadn't been created with this false narrative.

I was a pretend person. Built in a land that feared what the truth would do to our family.

 

What I find so shocking - is the truth came in, it sat in the Houghton County Jail - and so many didn't see it.

 

I believe when you are raised to look around and over truths, it becomes a way of life.

 

It has to be denial.

 

Denial must feel like a kinder place to be - where nothing is required of you - are there even consequences in the land of denial?

 

It feels like it is a happy family - when I look at them from here.

 

They get a family - without the truths.

 

Watered Down Relationships

I just finished Kerry Washington's Memoir "Thicker than Water".  The main theme of the book is honesty - or perhaps the lack of it growing up.

 

In listening to her story, there were moments that helped explain me to - Me.

 

In families, and particularly in the relationships between parent and child - a child feels the space where the lies live.  We may not be able to articulate what is missing - but we more feel - what is not there.

Truth has a solid spaceless feeling.

 

In truth our body relaxes.

 

Lies leave us without anything to hold on to or feel secure with.

 

It explains so much about my lack of connection. It was like I was adrift - before I actually became estranged.

 

I wasn't able to love the space where lies lived.

And I blamed myself for not loving - for not feeling the closeness and warm feelings.

 

She wrote about how her mother, once the truths were spoken, was able to look deeply into her eyes.   

 

This.

 

I remember how hard it was to keep eye contact with my mother.  Both on her end and mine. I am sure this was normal in our home, the not looking looking.

 

Don't they say that eyes are windows into our souls.

 

I am aware of how my denial of my own truths, had effects on my relationships.  And more, how when I allowed myself to be with my truths, how it changed me.

 

The secrets, the abuse and even the denial - all left me in a very untethered unknowing place. Both about the secrets and yet mostly about me.

 

You can't know who you are - without truth.

(I understand these quilts more now.)

 

When I try to go back to who I was back then I don't have a clear picture.  But I was living without knowing the secrets or that even I kept secrets.

 

Oh, and one thing that Kerry talked about is - when her parents kept secrets, it also made her keep secrets.  Like the truth wasn't welcome there.

 

Interesting to be raised learning how to keep your truth quiet.

 

Her mother protected her with lies and she protected her mother with lies.

But lies do not build relationships.

Folks often keep secrets, thinking they will save the relationship, and what they are actually are doing is destroying it or not giving it a chance to grow.

 

I am thinking it isn't even the lies themselves, they are huge - but what matters more is empty space or hole it creates. And the weird way we learn to leave the truth out of relationships.

 

The effect this has on children who try to grow and love among lies - is immeasurable. 

 

When I look at the environment I was raised in and how truth was scarce between myself and my parents, I see its costs.

 

The one two punch of abuse and lies - left me in a very precarious place to grow.

 

Her book also explains to me how truth means so much now.

Why I feel so strongly.

 

It isn't the secrets themselves that are so damaging, which they are. But how it is impossible to have a good relationship while they are hidden.

 

This may not make sense to anyone - but it sure has put in another puzzle piece for me.

In how I was built so awkwardly in the land of secrets.

 

I love when I find another puzzle piece - which helps me understand why I was the way I was - and how I grew that way.

 

We grow like the environment we live in.

 

I could weep for my child self.

And how she tried so hard - how the world was set against her from the very beginning.

There was no way I could have come out normal and natural - from whence I came.

 

Yet, I am so humbled at where we landed.

 

I am okay living with the need for truth and authenticity.  I love folks who hold no secrets.

Those with secrets will feel my distance - and I am okay with that.

 

I love her title, "Thicker than Water" for we all know the common phrase blood is thicker than water.  What I know is that families who harbor secrets are families with watered down relationships.

 

 

The mask we often wear is to keep the secret from being known.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Circle of Women Relatives

Ghosts from my past can walk up at anytime and say hello. They can ask how I am doing and then go for a swim. They can lay on the beach and read for hours near me.

 

It is all curious.

 

Curious we are sisters.

 

Living worlds apart.

 

Very close today.

 

Completely different.

 

Other relatives swam - I didn't recognize them.

 

A beautiful beach afternoon - overcast with memories.

 

Sunshine, warm sand, clear water - two strangers now.

There is much unknown.

Her path and mine.

 

I don't know hers.

She can't know mine.

 

Words that could fill the lake - would leave us both exactly where we are.

 

Estranged.

 

The little wave - when we first recognized each other - would have been enough acknowledgement for me.

 

I am curious - but not really wanting to engage.

 

So, it was shocking to hear a voice come up along side of me - saying Hi.

 

The pleasant niceties lasted a minute or two.

 

I wonder what propelled her to me.

 

Being kind?

We both brought family with us to the lake.

Our chance encounter - wasn't like we 'wanted' to meet. That she sought me out - but once I was in her line of vision - she approached.

 

Not the time for deep investigating into her world - into her choices and how were they working.

 

Comparing - maybe our lives.

I would have questions - how would she answer.

Who is she now?

I wonder if her denial is deeper - or are there cracks starting to show.

 

I wonder what she saw as she looked at me?

 

Mostly I watched two girls play, giggle and have the best day.

I sat there grandma - grateful of my choice to be estranged.

Grateful for the separation.

Hand stitching on a quilt.

Sun warm on my body.

Waves in my ear.

My heart at peace with my choice.

 

The ghosts of my past were on the left of me - and on my right the future.

Her innocence is worth the distance I have walked from my family of origin - worth feeling the awkwardness of a stranger we once knew.

 

Sitting there I felt my age or maybe more, my wisdom and empowerment - my strength.

 

The day changes with these encounters - they leave an essence on me - a brush with the past - a lingering of wonder.

 

I would love a real deep dive into the truths of our lives.

And yet it would be horrifying.

 

I wonder if she would have sat to have an eye to eye - heart to heart chat?

 

Perhaps if we were alone.

 

I wonder what she'd really want to know about me?

 

Lately nieces have asked to be my friend on Facebook and Instagram. An easy way to approach someone - a distant relative.  I wonder what the nieces would like to know about me?

More, I wonder what they have been told. 

 

I am the oldest girl in this family of women.

An odd character - I left before some of them were born - or just little babies.

They have always known me as the odd man out.

The old aunt who doesn't come around.

 

Part of me would love to know their hearts and yet my heart probably couldn't bear it.

 

The reason for my estrangement comes front and center. The power that propelled me was abuse - my heart knew it couldn't be with those who could see the side of the abuser(s) more than the child.

 

Sitting on the beach today two sides were there.

We both stood on different sides. 

Between us years of silence.

 

A photograph of the beach scene today - would not reveal all the interconnected disconnected strings of relatives - together on a beach separated.

 

All I know is that if any woman/girl in this relative pool asks me why I am out here - my heart will be at peace - for I can fully own my choices to be on this side of history.

The girls who walked away.

 

Girls who found their self-worth.

 

Girls who left trying to end the cycle of abuse.

 

Girls who felt the truth in the bodies that never lie.

 

Girls who left family - to save family.

 

 

I see the relative girls and I wonder.

Wonder what has been communicated and what stays silent.

Wonder if I spoke - would I be heard.

 

As I go to bed tonight - my heart and soul are peace with the road I am on.

I can't know how the women relatives sleep.

 

I wonder if one day I will have a heart to heart with one of them.

I hope one is curious as I am.  Who wants to know about the family tree's outcast and why her limb is different.

Today I didn't feel the shame or negative feelings of being different.

Being different today feels like a fun piece of art.

A freedom of expression.

Perhaps like an eccentric aunt.

 

An odd caricature in the circle of women relatives.

 

Perceive

Almost 19 years later and I am still wrestling with things in my mind - trying to understand the things that can't be understood. 

I am not sure if folks who were not abused look so deeply into life and people and their actions or intentions; but I am stuck here trying to figure me out.

 

Not only myself, my traits, my beliefs, my mind - but also humanity at large.

What makes a person good or evil?

What makes a person unforgivable - and often this is me.

I am unforgivable - yet my mother is forgiven - yet what did I do?

 

How bad am I?

 

How are we constructed into being a good person, and how much does it take for us to slide off the scale of good into bad.

Are we as good as our worst behavior or action?

Is there a spectrum of good and evil?

 

In my old church the evil was forgiven and sins tossed into a sea called grace.

Folks who did bad things, could return to their goodness - evil never stuck.

 

My mind is having a hard time trying to come up with a clear definition or concept of good and evil - and if there can be good people who do bad things.

 

My mind wants this to be cut and dried - good OR evil - not good with a smidgen of bad.

 

Once my brainwashed mind cracked and I saw truth and reality - I also became more discerning about actions - words grew faint.

 

I watched how people moved and who they stood by and what they championed.  I colored them by their own behaviors; while questioning my harsh judgements.

I kinda felt pangs of guilt using the word "judgement" like who does she think she is....

 

So, I looked up the definition of Judgment to see if that is something to be shameful for.

"The ability to make considered decisions or come to sensible conclusions."

 

The church was forever preaching against judging - and that God would be the Judge someday - that we were not to judge.  An old guilt system arose as I saw myself judging.

 

What is interesting that I question my judgment - almost more than their actions.

This I feel becomes a smoke screen for the evil folks - where they want us looking inward and not outward at what they are doing.

Especially folks who are behaving poorly.

 

My head hurts trying to figure out what's more true that there are good people who do bad things - or are there just good and bad folks.  That there are some bad actions that can sit in harmony with good.

What else stirs my mind into crazy thinking are the people who can switch sides. 

It is like they don't have their own standard - but can flow from side to side.

 

What does that mean?

 

Is it possible to not sit on a side?

Can you flow detached - and is that being neutral?

 

Is there a place to stand against evil and be with evil all at once?

Where is it and how is this achieved?

 

Oh and the other thing that comes into my thoughts, is how we see people how they treat us.  

 

My husband said about a person that I no longer want to speak with - is that he's always been kind to me.

 

I get this.

I am not expecting him to follow my lead.

But, what I feel is that folks can be kind to one person and then completely evil to another. And, that often we don't see others until they turn on us.

So is this person good as my husband's experience - or a not so good person -like feel he is?

 

It leaves me to believe we can be good and evil - it all depends upon our perception and our experiences - and how others see and experience us.

"A common saying is "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," which means beauty doesn't exist on its own but is created by observers. That famous quote can help you remember that a beholder is someone who sees or otherwise experiences things, becoming aware of them. To be a beholder, you have to pay attention."

I like the fact that beholders have to pay attention.

I am a beholder - now.  

It cost me to much to not pay attention.

 

So goodness is in the eye of the beholder - but does that mean they are good?

It could also mean the beholder isn't paying close attention.

 

I feel that many people don't really want to be a beholder, they instead have a lazy relationship with reality and feel they are kinder if they see only good in others.

 

This part can really get my mind going.

What is kindness?

I believe kindness is often misdiagnosed.

Kindness -"Kindness is a type of behavior marked by acts of generosity, consideration, rendering assistance or concern for others, without expecting praise or reward ..."

Many times when folks are asking us to be kind, what they really are asking is for us to be beholders that overlook the poor actions of others.

 

Be kind, you don't know what battles the person is dealing with.  Withhold your judgment...  

 

I am not sure that is what kindness does.

To me, kindness stands and faces the truth.

If a person is doing bad - acting poorly, and if they were someone I was close to - it seems like it would be more kind to pay attention.  Kindness to me faces reality no matter what reality is revealing.

 

The lesson from this writing for me - is that I am a beholder that pays attention.  I see the wrongdoings of others and that directs my interactions - or distance based on what I see.

Even hear.

 

I trust my friends, if they tell me a person was mean or treated them poorly - that person is someone I want distance from.  If someone treated my child poorly, I will act like that was done to me - and keep my distance.  I don't know if this is normal or healthy. 

I just can't pretend to pretend to pretend - that I have information about their character. I am just not good at fake friendships. Nor do I want to be close to or spend time with someone I know who can hurt others.

 

Just interesting about being a beholder.  I am a beholder who pays attention to the actions of others - and move accordingly.

 

This piece reminded me how the beholders see one person- each see something different.

 

There are beholders who will never see clearly - if they don't want to know the truth.

I am learning life is all about what you perceive. 

 

Perceive

Almost 19 years later and I am still wrestling with things in my mind - trying to understand the things that can't be understood. 

I am not sure if folks who were not abused look so deeply into life and people and their actions or intentions; but I am stuck here trying to figure me out.

 

Not only myself, my traits, my beliefs, my mind - but also humanity at large.

What makes a person good or evil?

What makes a person unforgivable - and often this is me.

I am unforgivable - yet my mother is forgiven - yet what did I do?

 

How bad am I?

 

How are we constructed into being a good person, and how much does it take for us to slide off the scale of good into bad.

Are we as good as our worst behavior or action?

Is there a spectrum of good and evil?

 

In my old church the evil was forgiven and sins tossed into a sea called grace.

Folks who did bad things, could return to their goodness - evil never stuck.

 

My mind is having a hard time trying to come up with a clear definition or concept of good and evil - and if there can be good people who do bad things.

 

My mind wants this to be cut and dried - good OR evil - not good with a smidgen of bad.

 

Once my brainwashed mind cracked and I saw truth and reality - I also became more discerning about actions - words grew faint.

 

I watched how people moved and who they stood by and what they championed.  I colored them by their own behaviors; while questioning my harsh judgements.

I kinda felt pangs of guilt using the word "judgement" like who does she think she is....

 

So, I looked up the definition of Judgment to see if that is something to be shameful for.

"The ability to make considered decisions or come to sensible conclusions." 

Nothing to be ashamed of.

 

The church was forever preaching against judging - and that God would be the Judge someday - that we were not to judge.  An old guilt system arose as I saw myself judging.

 

What is interesting that I question my judgment - almost more than their actions.

This I feel becomes a smoke screen for the evil folks - where they want us looking inward and not outward at what they are doing.

Especially folks who are behaving poorly.

 

My head hurts trying to figure out what's more true that there are good people who do bad things - or are there just good and bad folks.  That there are some bad actions that can sit in harmony with good.

What else stirs my mind into crazy thinking are the people who can switch sides. 

It is like they don't have their own standard - but can flow from side to side.

 

What does that mean?

 

Is it possible to not sit on a side?

Can you flow detached - and is that being neutral?

 

Is there a place to stand against evil and be with evil all at once?

Where is it and how is this achieved?

 

Oh and the other thing that comes into my thoughts, is how we see people how they treat us.  

 

My husband said about a person that I no longer want to speak with - is that he's always been kind to me.

 

I get this.

I am not expecting him to follow my lead.

But, what I feel is that folks can be kind to one person and then completely evil to another. And, that often we don't see the evil until they turn on us.

So is this person good as my husband's experience - or a not so good person -like I feel he is?

It leaves me to believe we can be good and evil - it all depends upon our perception and our experiences - and how others see and experience us.

"A common saying is "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," which means beauty doesn't exist on its own but is created by observers. That famous quote can help you remember that a beholder is someone who sees or otherwise experiences things, becoming aware of them. To be a beholder, you have to pay attention."

 

I like the fact that beholders have to pay attention.

I am a beholder - now.  

It cost me too much to not pay attention.

 

So goodness is in the eye of the beholder - but does that mean they are good?

It could also mean the beholder isn't paying close attention.

 

I feel that many people don't really want to be a beholder, they instead have a lazy relationship with reality and feel they are kinder if they see only good in others.

 

This part can really get my mind going.

What is kindness?

I believe kindness is often misdiagnosed.

Kindness -"Kindness is a type of behavior marked by acts of generosity, consideration, rendering assistance or concern for others, without expecting praise or reward ..."

 

Many times when folks are asking us to be kind, what they really are asking is for us to be beholders that overlook the poor actions of others.

 

Be kind, you don't know what battles the person is dealing with.  Withhold your judgment...  

 

I am not sure that is what kindness does.

To me, kindness stands and faces the truth.

If a person is doing bad - acting poorly, and if they were someone I was close to - it seems like it would be more kind to pay attention.  Kindness to me faces reality no matter what reality is revealing.

 

The lesson from this writing for me - is that I am a beholder that pays attention.  I see the wrongdoings of others and that directs my interactions - or distance based on what I see.

Even hear.

 

I trust my friends, if they tell me a person was mean or treated them poorly - that person is someone I want distance from.  If someone treated my child poorly, I will act like that was done to me - and keep my distance.  I don't know if this is normal or healthy. 

I just can't pretend to pretend to pretend - that I don't have information about their character. I am just not good at fake friendships. Nor do I want to be close to or spend time with someone I know who can hurt others.

 

Just interesting about being a beholder.  I am a beholder who pays attention to the actions of others - and move accordingly.

 

This piece reminded me how the beholders see one person- each see something different.

 

There are beholders who will never see clearly - if they don't want to know the truth.

I am learning life is all about what you perceive. 

 

Our Legacy

They say the best thing a father can do for his children -  is to love their mother.

 

My husband didn't have the easiest of roads.

 

He and I didn't know my past, and when it was revealed - he could have easily cut bait and left.

 

He not only choose to stay - he learned to love the new me - along with me.  

He was willing to lay our marriage down - and to work instead on ourselves - to find our best versions.  To work with the concept that the marriage is only as good as the people in it.

 

My breakdown was the worst and hardest thing we experienced together - and yet it has been the most rewarding to see how truth and being ourselves has allowed us both to relax and love without conditions.

 

Love is easy - when it is kind and beautiful looking.

Love is so much harder when things go sideways.

 

What I recall is not knowing who I was - and how I could not go back to being blind - and yet I had zero ideas of who I would ultimately become.   And more than all of that - I had the space in my marriage and my home to become.

 

He did not put any rules upon me.

 

He and I both allowed the old me to die and the new me to be born.

He not only accepted my truths, he loved me with them.

He loved my wounds.

 

I felt that my family of origin only wanted the old blind complacent forgiving boundary-less person. They had zero interest in or engaging with my new awareness and truths.

 

The juxtaposition between how my husband engaged with me - compared to them - is so completely vast - there is no common denominator.

 

On this one little and gargantuan way of loving me - changed the content of our home.  In how he accepted me - as me - wounded and unknowing who I was - also set the tone in accepting others.  He has shown me it is not only okay to be myself - it is something to be celebrated.

 

This.

 

This is what I celebrate in great fathers.

Fathers who love their wives.

Are faithful, kind, loving, respectful, hardworking, hard loving, fun and forever curious ---- the list goes on.

 

I know how lucky my children are - for he loves them the same.

He allows them just to be themselves - and LOVES them as they are.

There is nothing he needs added - for him to love them more.

 

Our family has love - boundless love because of this man.

 

Unconditional love - no rules - freedom to be love.

 

He has a happy Father's Day every day.  

He makes being a father look easy.

Being a grandpa a piece of cake.

For what he truly does best is just allow us all to be.

 

What I also love about him - is he is always himself.  He doesn't change - he is what you see - there is no mask.  He is unabashedly himself - always.  He is his own man - he follows his own north star.  Just being so content to be himself - has allowed me to settle into being Me.

 

This love.

 

Is the love that is our legacy.