IMPERFECT Lady

Who Feel Like Home

I was challenged today about not trusting christians.  I promised to write it out.

 

This is my third draft and I think I figured a few things out.

 

First I will be using my abusive childhood to help illustrate for it shows the dramatic changes of heart.

 

My last conversation with my mother was her telling me, that we had two different perceptions of my father.

 

I recall hollering back to her, there is only one - he’s in an orange jumpsuit in the Houghton County Jail.  Meaning he no longer is a father - he changed my perception to an abuser.

 

 

Is it really possible to see the same thing so drastically different?

 

At first I thought those who are defending religion were like my mother - defending - her views against mine.  

 

But, then I realized they were more like me, or like I used to be.  

 

I was sold on family and religion. I believed in both - and looking back - I don’t know how I didn’t know.

 

I also thought that I was the loving one - that I brought love to my family.  But that isn’t true. I didn’t know love.  I only knew what love wasn’t.

 

Did my family and religion change?

Or did I.

 

What I believe to be more true is that I discovered love. I learned to love me.  I learned about boundaries and what my own truths were - I questioned my own values and perceptions - I watched my own actions how much I lived my own truths and spoke them out loud.

 

I believe that my definition of love changed. 

My family and my religion did not.

 

I changed my perceptions.

About love and about my self.

 

In my world, and in my heart of hearts - I feel I am one with reality.

 

 

As for not trusting christians.  I am still doubtful.

 

I would change it to being skeptical of most.

 

 

I am grateful for those who shared their words, their faith, and love of religion. You have added a gradation to my painting a wide sweep - there are tones. So not all the same.

 

I see myself in you.

 

I also see my old habits of black and white, with us or against us - sentiments showing.

 

A bad habit of mine.

 

For I do see the world more nuanced.

 

With a heap of skepticism on religions.

Perhaps our definitions of love are in various tones as well.  We all decide what love is.

 

 

I still feel the uncomfortable space that opens up when I am asked about God and Religion.

 

Equally when I asked about family.  Being estranged isn't the common path.

 

Many who have not left church or family will not be as sensitive to the phrases, questions of others.  How a simple statement - excludes you.

 

Do I trigger doubts in them or do they trigger doubts in Me?

 

I didn’t try to change my childhood family - instead I began changing my own legacy within my home.  By loving me - it is my hope that love will be passed down.  

 

I am redefining what love is - to me.

How love feels and how it engages with others.

I vowed not to let the legacy of abuse define me. What it actually was was a vow to find love - be love.  My greatest legacy to pass to my children is love.  

A love that is accepting, kind, peaceful, joyful, allowing - natural love without constraints of any sort.

 

I believe my childhood family believes in their definition of love and they find it there.

 

As for religion - I have zero desire to find a new religion.

It isn’t a place of love for me.

 

My church is where love is.

 

While the sentiments of my previous post is about religion and christians - What I believe the source of both is - is love.

Each person and the church they follow - has a definition of love - a sentiment that has standards and morals.  Your love matches.

The old adage, "Birds of the feather flock together" has relevance.  The flock is what they called parishioners in the past.  Who you fly with matters.  

My flock is small - misfits - who find themselves outside of what is called normal - the imperfect souls.

The tagline of this blog "I M Perfect and it is impossible not to be.

We fly with those who feel like home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A mask I wore

I think the value of a christian is more in the eye of the beholder.  It appears quite different from the outside looking in.

 

I feel I am less in the eyes of christians.

And more in my own.

 

Back when the label fit me - I wasn't that kind - nor was I loving.

I was judgmental and had a value system based on my limited beliefs.  I categorized people based on the rules I believed in.

 

Rarely did I see the person, or their life and pathway they walked.

Okay I didn't really see anyone other than those who believed like me.

I disregarded many or felt them to be less.

 

My worth was not in question - theirs was.

 

 

What is so interesting to me sitting on this side of Christianity - is how I see myself. Or more how I weigh myself and who I am.

 

When you are part of a group, you become lazy in yourself.  You are on the team and do what the team does.  

 

Especially in the strict religion I grew up in.

There was little free will.

 

Making a choice for myself was unheard of - all actions sifted down through the veil of our religion.  What to do and what not to do. Who to be with and who not to be with. Where to go and where not to go.  We followed.  

 

On the outside of religion is a vast land of possibilities and choices.

Each person who comes along is no longer seen through the veil of the church. 

But they are seen as I see myself.

 

It feels good to me to be without the burden of being a christian.  

I wonder what label carries the most weight with me?

Who do I identify with most - which part of me is mostly me.

 

Sitting here I don't feel any label over another.

Who I am seems to change from moment to moment and who I am with.

 

I feel this body - even more now as it ages.

I feel the sense of self inside.

I don't have a name for it.

I feel the accumulated past of me.

I don't know how I would now label me or others anymore.

 

What matters to me most perhaps is truth, authenticity, realness - just being yourself.

 

I value a person who wears no masks.

 

A person who is comfortable in their skin and in their lives.

 

After leaving the church, it amazed me how some people are lost behind their religion.  That there is not a separate being. Just as I once was lost - to me.

 

 

When I left, I had to find out who I was.

 

It was thrilling and terrifying.

 

The other side of christianity - feels like love to me.

Unconditional - accepting.

 

The god I learned about was not unconditional or accepting - let alone loving.

 

The christian god I learned about - didn't feel loving.

Hence, I don't feel like being a christian is a good thing.

 

I don't know what to say to someone who identifies as a christian.

I don't know what that means, truly to me or how they move in the world.

 

What I know to be true in my experience, is that a whole bunch of good christians knew about the abuse in my childhood home, blessed it away and moved on - repeatedly.

 

It is no wonder I don't trust christians.

 

Their religion told them what to do.

 

I too learned the ways of blindness, of forgiving and forgetting, of seeing the world through the dark drape of the cult.  Christianity didn't serve me well.

 

When I meet someone who claims they are a christian, I try to see if there is a separate being. A person behind that label.

 

Who are they?

How do they love?

How do they see others?

How do they see me?

 

I wonder what other label carries as much weight or worth as a Christian.

It has more value to other christians than those of us who are not.

 

I feel free, kind and more loving being a non-christian.

A concept that some are terrified of.

 

Interestingly, the religion didn't actually give me worth nor was I less for leaving.

 

I found that christianity wasn't who I was - the real me lay dormant - underneath the brainwashing.

 

To me christianity was a mask I wore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Played So Much.

The only Art Show I do, is less than a week away.  It is time now to look up from what I have created, price my art and start getting organized to show.

There is a big difference between doing art, showing art, and selling art.

 

I love getting lost in new ideas, in playing with colors and fabrics, and this year new mediums.  

 

It is like each new idea gives birth to another idea - a cascade of inspiration.

These faces were so much fun to play with, they captivated me for weeks!

These are inspired by Freddie Moran.  They are way too fun - I can't know if they will sell - but my joy has already happened.

If you try these, I am pretty sure you won't stop with one.

 

I then saw these scrappy trees - made from Fabric Twine.

Oh my gosh. I LOVED making the twine - great for at the end of the day - keeping my hands busy while I watched my latest binge on Netflix. 

Another addictive activity - I loved the twining and I love the tree making and I love the final trees.  They filled me with joy and happiness - while I worked on them.

 

That led to scrappy cards.  These were way too much fun. I had a packet of blank cards and envelopes from many years ago. I used what I had.  It was interesting to sew on paper - and so much easier than actual quilting. I will play more with this medium.

 

Those inspired Gift Tags. Smaller and I had to cut the paper etc. I kept them all trees. I didn't want to put too much time into these - this close to the show.

I would love to play more with fabric, inks and even paints on cards - no time now - but this has fueled a new avenue to explore.

I inherited a boat load of old jewelry and so I began to recycle it.  What fun this was. I found out I am pretty much a bohemian sorta girl.  I loved the imperfection of it all.  I got a few made for the show - but will continue to explore this after as well. 

 

And, those led to Fiber Beads.  Oh My Gosh who knew there was even such a thing. In researching if you will - what to do with old jewelry I happened upon the fiber bead.

Again lots left to explore. An endless road of possibilities.  This new art also filled me up with new energy, ideas and joy.  

 

In the midst of my own art journey my daughter came home - she wanted to do projects while here - one was to play with clay. What fun we had.

My girls did a much better job than I - handling the clay. But, I was still joyful in what I had made.  So these too will be part of my display at the show.

So, I have expanded my art - I have tried new things and had a ton of fun playing.  

 

Now the business side of the art is here. Pricing and anticipation of showing what you made.

A part of my soul is in each piece or for sure a my signature expression.

 

I am now tasked with pricing what I created.

Putting a value on it.  

There is a place where it honors the art, me and the customer.

 

To all the artists who are in the show - this last week as you sit surrounded by your art - you look outward now to how others will receive it.  You start looking more critical or at least I do.   This is the hardest part of being an artist, show yourself in public.

 

In this process the head takes over from the playful confident artist.

This is where the judgement comes from - and the self-conscious part.

If you give it free will, the head will convince you you are worthless - and so is your art.

I am thinking that doing art allows me to live away from my head and all its rubbish.

I also know that the energy I experienced while doing my art  - it is what is in my art - not the false words of my head.

 

So, I just wanted to put this out there, for I know I am not alone.

To all the artists that show and sell art - you are badass for taking what you created in private and put it on display for all to see.  

 

What I love is to see new art, to witness creativity in action.  I LOVE art, the artists and the shows.  

A friend reminded me, that by being in a show, it makes you more creative. I believe this to be true.  Without a show on the horizon - I don't believe I would have played so much.

 

See my play on display on November 12 from 10am until 4pm at the Houghton High School - Keweenaw Art Affair.   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Truth of What Is.

Niceness stays quiet.

Kindness speaks up.

Niceness is toxic.

Kindness is healing.

Niceness lies to keep the peace.

Kindness knows the only way to make peace is to tell the truth.

Niceness holds back.

Kindness moves forward with humility, gentleness and grace.

By Allison Vesterfelt.

 

 

I have been trying to articulate the vast differences of words that appear so similar.

Be kind or be nice - seems to have the same value - and yet they feel completely different.

What I needed the most back when I discovered my denial and all that it covered up - was for someone to speak up.

I needed kindness, not silence.

I needed truth and those willing to be with it.

To own it and hold it and regard it as a kindness to the legacy of our family.

 

What I believe is that I went from a nice girl, to a kind one. And it completely changed who I was and how my life looked and felt. And even IF I fit into my family or not.  Kindness didn't live there.

 

If we think of kindness as living your truth and niceness and denying it - you may understand this.

 

My mother would say, "If you don't have anything nice to say, say nothing."

At face value this sounds nice or even kind.

However, often this sentiment is what comes back at you when you speak a truth - that they don't want to hear.

 

Nice is often touted as being better than the truth.

 

Is there really something better than the truth of anything.

Are there truths you are better off not knowing?

 

One of my gravest errors was believing that everyone wants to be on the field of truth.

That no one would rather not know - than know.

 

I was wrong.

 

I was raised in an environment of niceness.

Especially against truths that were ugly and harmful and toxic to love.

As if niceness can change a truth.

 

What became real apparent was that I was worse for speaking the truth of abuse - in comparison to the ones actually committing the crimes.  I was seen as unkind at best. I was unkind - not that my father did unkind things. I broke the family's rule - I was willing to shatter the peace. I was unkind for living the consequences of truth.

 

The negative words and feelings towards me equal their aversion to the truth.

There is a founded fear of letting truth in - for it will undo all the lies.

One truth can begin to unravel a nice life.

 

At least this is true in my experience.

 

What was so shocking to me, is that many would speak the truth to me, but go on in niceness and say nothing, change nothing in their relationships. Just overlook and be silent about a truth that would upend their world. They choose niceness. To me this is a common form of denial.

 

Being where I am now, I am appalled at how many folks chose to live a 'nice' life rather than a truthful one in kindness.

 

What kindness feels like in comparison to being nice is shocking at first, but very empowering.

Nice is such a victim stance - being silent or speaking lies for peace.

 

While I may appear unkind and even evoke feelings of unkindness -  in my heart of hearts, I know that it truly is healing.

 

I do move forward with humility gentleness and grace.

I understand their kindness - even if I don't agree with it.

Living life hand and hand with all truths is not for the faint of heart.

 

What set me apart from my family - was my inability to be nice.

They needed nice to keep their family together.

I needed to be kind to me, my little girl and the girls(children) who followed in my footsteps.

I had learned the hard way that being nice didn't change anything.  Being nice just kept the toxic relationships going.

 

It is my hope that I am never nice.

 

May I always have the courage to see clearly into the truth of what is.

 

 

 

 

 

Express the Inexpressible.

This blog has been a space to put down my confusion to express the inexpressible.

 

I had to look up the word "inexpressible".

"(of a feeling) too strong to be described or conveyed in words."

"not capable of being expressed."

 

Perhaps I have troubles pinpointing the feelings to be expressed.

Because how do you express what empty feels like.

Or the content of hollow or nothing.

Yet full of every imaginable emotion.

The past is littered with volatile feelings and emotions.

It is like every emotion and then the vacuum of none.

Estrangement leaves a void that eclipse emotions.

Estrangement doesn't seem to have a feeling - just a desire for nothing.

 

So, with all that in mind.  I will try and explain an incident that happened tonight.

My friend and I drive up to our volunteer garden, El Camino and three kayaks - we slide into a parking spot and an old woman is up ahead in front of us - walking with a cane.  I feel her familiarity. Looking closer - I see my mother.

 

I sit in the car and watch - knowing she knows this car - or perhaps she has forgotten. 

I shut off the engine and tell my friend.  If my mother notices me/this car I will walk away.

I want zero interaction with her.

 

Walking slowly she approaches our garden, pauses for a beat or more - and then ambles off. 

 

This feeling - of having a mother - who you haven't seen in 9 years and haven't talked to in 17 - is inexpressible. 

It is unnatural.

What feelings are inside to be expressed - when what you want is space, distance, silence and no contact.

What you want is a permanent void.

But, you don't have that.

You have a life walking pausing being there.

 

This life, that gave you life - then gave you pain and did not notice - is in your world - unannounced.

One moment your world doesn't have her - and then she's there.

A ghost

A prick to the wound.

A reminder.

 

Slamming into each other are emotions and expressions.

She walks with a cane and denial.

I sit with reality and our history.

The years of healing, boundaries and absence has made me into a different person.

But she has missed all that.

To her, I would be the same; but just absent.

Not different.

 

What she would see and want to engage with is the old me.

The me who lived in denial. Her daughter.  She would want to be my mom.

That me has died.

 

The woman who sat in the El Camino - is aware now.

She knows, feels and has healed years of pains and sorrows.

 

The old woman with a cane - doesn't know my pain or my sorrows.

She didn't see me tonight and didn't see me years ago.

 

A ghost walked by our garden tonight.

A critical part of my history and source of much heartbreaking emotions.

She was unaware I was so close. 

Maybe I am the ghost.

 

I don't often wonder what she thinks or even if she thinks of me.

What would she do with a girl like me - unruly, strong, empowered, brave, badass, boundary setting lady.

She was haughty the last time we spoke.

Imagine, haughty towards a daughter who was abused by her husband.

Haughty is a good word.

 

Here is what that means. "arrogantly superior and disdainful."

 

The crazy makings of trying to articulate this - is the lack of accountability on her part. The lack of utter and overwhelming grief - that she hurt so many.  Instead she comes 'home' to her family.  Comes back to the scene of the crimes.  Comes back like there is no past history of horrible memories.  To her she is coming home to beauty.

 

This lack of remorse or even knowing what she participated in to her own children leaves me breathless and with zero desire to even entertain one minute of conversation.

 

I don't know what is normal for an estranged daughter who sees her mother.

But my reaction was to let the ladies know - I would walk away.

 

At times like these this bugs me too. I am unable to have a normal or regular reaction when I see my mother. 

I am placed in an awkward pose.

Inside of me isn't a warm exciting longing loving feeling.

Inside of me feels like victim who sees their perpetrator.

I want distance and I don't want them to see me.

I don't want further pokes into my wound.

I want to protect my inner love and peace and joy.

I want to walk my joy away.

 

I did still have a good night.

We tended the garden.

We floated on the water.

I won't lie - thoughts came and went and I was distracted - jarred from seeing her.

I wonder at times why the universe plops her into my world.

What am I to learn.

Imagine the precision of timing it takes to have us in the same space at the exact moment of time.

Especially when we can go years without a sighting.

I did see her once years ago in my mail jeep - passing like ships in the night - I didn't slow down.

 

Anyway. I feel better having played with words trying to express the inexpressible.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Commitment to myself

"If abandonment is the core wound

the disconnection from mother

the loss of wholeness

then the most potent of medicine 

is the ancient commitment

to never abandon

yourself

to discover wholeness in the whole-mess

to be a loving mother

to your insides

to hold the broken bits 

in warm open awareness

and to illuminate the sore places

with the light

of love."  Jeff Foster.

 

So much is being said in the words above that resonate with me and my journey.

How I was abandoned with my wounds - unattended - and how I had to hold my broken bits with warm open awareness.  Seriously. 

I recall feeling the task was too large. To ask a broken down person to heal thy self if you will - felt insane.

 

To illuminate the sore places is heart wrenching and yet hold them to the light with love. To love the sadness and empty hole where a loving parent should be.

 

Often I hear that abused children lose their innocence - they don't.

They lose the parent who leaves us unattended.

We lose the parent who hurts us.

We don't lose our innocence, we are innocent.

We are abandoned but still innocent.

We can even be broken and innocent.

The ones who lose their innocence IS the perpetrator. They no longer are innocent parents. That is theirs to carry. When they harmed us or left us unattended, they abandoned us.

I am not sure I can articulate the way a parent abandons us as they abuse. For they no longer are our parents. We are left without parents.  A true loving parent will not abuse. A true loving parent walks away from those who abuse their child. 

It seems utterly insane that this even happens.

Yet, so many children, adult children, experience being left alone far too early.

To not have the comfort of knowing someone is there for you.

 

What is so tragic are the many children who are left alone with huge wounds in dysfunctional homes, who have no one that sees them or hears them. That alone feeling can only be healed when we step in and mother ourselves.

We truly can be the mother we never had.

 

I had to learn how to mother.

Learn how to be strong and set boundaries while broken.

 

I had an image of me as a young girl and she lived in me. At 46, I began making choices that would honor her and respect her and her brokenness.  Even broken I was a good mother to me.

 

As the years have passed, I am in awe of what I achieved - maintaining a strong commitment to myself - even when challenged by my family of origin - or more abandoned by them.

Which many of them would argue against.

 

Yet, as a brother or sister - If you stood with the parents - you abandoned me.

The same many would claim that it was I who abandoned my family for I am estranged.

That it is I who walked away.

 

As an estranged child it does appear at first glance that it was I who choose to leave.

Many never consider the reasons I am no longer part of the family.

Or more - see the commitment to my self and what I needed to heal.

All they may see is family - and love it and all its brokenness.

Neglecting the pieces that make up a family - each person.

 

I love the words and the sentiments they hold - for they bring hope and healing and more self -love.

 

Often we want to love only the good parts of us - and seldom is it talked about how we actually need to shine light and loving kindness on the pieces that hurt us.

 

This is one of my greatest achievements - my commitment to myself.

 

 

 

Out of My Mind

I was asked to write an article for this paper.

I have never written formally before.

I have written a million or more words in my journals and on my blogs, but nothing formal.

 

It took many first starts to find my tone.  It is the same tone I use on my blog.

The tone is me.  

Just speaking from this moment in time and my experiences.

 

It is an interesting question on what Health and Happiness means to you.

How does it sit in your world - how do you tend it?

 

I have a clear moment in time where I woke up from a brainwashed system both in my family and in religion.  My mind had been securely closed off - and I wasn't aware.

 

For true health and happiness, I believe you need an open mind.  A mind that is healthy, and able to challenge itself. In yoga they speak about bringing the mind back to the body - and to me that is the hardest thing to do - to be present in this moment of time - and not have a mind running amuck on endless fruitless tracks. 

 

A quiet mind.  A mind that I can use and not have it use me. This quiet open mind has allowed me to live in peace, love and joy. To me, that is true health and happiness.

 

My mind was a complete and utter mess.  It had so many wires crossed and was filled with lies and blank spaces. And, it had been living my life unchallenged. It never occurred to me that its contents were untruths. 

A friend asked me, how was it possible to live in denial.

Like, how can you not know.

 

It is the oddest thing to not know you don't know.

 

I think, I thought denial was, you knew and choose not to believe.

Instead you don't know and you don't choose not to know.  Something in your brain doesn't allow information in that will oppose what it believes in.

 

It is frightening to know that your brain can filter reality to keep its story alive.

 

For the first 46 years of my life I lived a fairytale - reality wasn't allowed in.

 

It isn't as rare as many may think.

In my experience, I have encountered many who live under the control of their minds.  Childhood beliefs and religious standards become their own rulers.  Rulers as in kings.  It dominates and steers their lives.

 

I used to think faith was a kind master.  Now, I am not so sure.

 

A strong faith is often a mind that has been warped - and a body controlled.

 

I am not certain whether my spiritual abuse came before or after my sexual abuse. But, the two together formed an ironclad bond in my mind.  It kept me from Me.

 

The mind disowned my body and its truths. And, the mind turned a blind eye to reality and what was happening. I get it. I was too young to know what was going on and it shielded me with blankness.

Yet it left me not knowing what I needed to know.  

 

It is hard for many folks to understand what the mind does with abuse.

To me the longest affects of abuse is the damaged mind.  The mind that believes in untruths.

This sets you up to live life in a very confused way.

 

Where reality skips by and untruths live as if they were true.

There is a weird place you can literally live your whole life, untouched by reality.

Seriously.

 

I did it for 46 years.  

 

Where you don't have the ability or space to question your thoughts and challenge your beliefs to go back and delve into systems you were raised in - to look at a wider deeper lens into your own life.

To see see things as they are, not as your mind believes they are.

Because I came from a religion that set itself up like a cult, where sameness was needed. Where rules and sins were in place to keep order and fear of hell made following the rules imperative. I see so many people lost in their minds and they don't even know it. Just as I was.

 

Health and happiness is when you can break free of the mind and see things as they are.

I feel so secure with reality and living what is.

My body feels peace in reality.

I often wonder when there is so much anxiety if it isn't grounded in a mind out of touch with reality.

A mind that was created for a reason and then lost touch with the ground.

 

It is scary to me to see so many lost in their beliefs.

 

It was interesting to me as I was waking up from the brainwashing, how the lies of the mind felt in the body, compared to the truth of reality.  Bit by bit, I would question my mind and its lies.  Learning more and more how wiley it was.

 

Unraveling years of denial and blind faith.

What I know to be true for me, is happiness and health truly come when I live outside of my mind - when I am able to be here now, and accept what reality is serving in this moment of time.  Allowing life to be as it is, like nature.  

I am one with nature and the nature of even being me.  My mind is now used to witness reality instead of erasing what is. I am happily out of my mind.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Enriched My Life Beautifully.

Ten years ago when I co-founded WIND, I saw myself as a leader and envisioned the kind of woman it would serve.  Sitting here today, it is I who have benefitted the most by WIND.  Instead of being the teacher - if you will - I was the student.

 

WIND has given me so much over the years, from friendship to adventures and art in between. 

It is hard to imagine my life now without the connections I have made and the different activities I now enjoy.  Let alone to how much I have grown in confidence and become a much more well rounded person.

 

WIND itself isn't the magic. The magic comes when we gather, we share, we learn, we dare, we try, we fail, we succeed and we reach new heights etc. Each time we are adding a new facet to who we are. It has enriched me on so many levels. Like adding color to a black and white routine life.

 

It has been a women's club and ladies night out each week. We have been more active through the Covid years and I hope we can soon return to the artful part of WIND. 

 

The art encourages our imaginations and the physical moves our bodies - both challenging us to new levels.

 

There certainly have been Wednesdays where I am tired and wanted to just stay home - but have gone and returned home renewed.  The very thing I knew could happen - does.  I wanted to help women fill up - to gain new skills and learn and grow - and I have.

 

I guess what I am here to report is my vision has worked on me.  It has helped me as I grew in a new direction. It has helped define my life in ways that I wouldn't have imagined.   Just learning new things and incorporating them into my life.  

 

The fullness of my world has been improved over the last 10 years.  

Bit by bit.

Friendship by Friendship.

Activity by activity.

 

I now have so much more in my life; compared to the early days.  

Women In New Directions - I am one and it has helped me define my direction and what I want to spend my time doing - even who I am.

 

The intention of WIND was to help ladies who found themselves in a new direction. Help them traverse new territory and perhaps even redefine them.  Help them feel less alone on a new journey.  What I didn't know is that I would end up helping me the most.

 

My heart and soul will always hold dearly to all that WIND has done and will continue to do.  

Each week, I arrive. 

I have set aside Wednesdays evenings for me.  

One night a week - for the past 6 years - (the first 4 years was just two Wednesdays a month) and little by little I have changed.

Often we hold change in a negative way and that somehow staying the same is a good thing.

But, life and living stuff always change.  

 

I think becoming friendly with change is helpful in life.  

The more bending we are the less stress we have in our lives.

 

Embracing our lives as they change and as we change is not often easy - but once you let go of the old you - a new you can emerge.

 

There are so many pieces of the new me that came by showing up most Wednesdays. By trying new things and saying Yes way more often than sometimes comfortable.  The experiences were so enriching even if I failed.  

I am humbled and proud of what WIND has done over these many Wednesdays.  I am in awe of so many of the woman I have come to know and love - and in all the ways they have gracefully accepted changes in their lives.  

We are a tribe.

We are badass.

We are colorful and delightful and fun.

We are like living works of art - WIND added to tapestry we call self.

 

Thanks - a deep heartfelt thanks to so many who have attended WIND!

It is my hope that it too has changed you in a positive way.

May WIND continue on for years to come!  

In some ways, it feels like we are just getting started.

 

Thank you ladies of WIND - You have enriched my life beautifully.

 Art - at River Camp

 

I live in peace

Ten years ago today, I was the Keynote Speaker at Dial Help's Gala held at Michigan Tech. My Storyline quilts were also on display. I was going public in a fancy way.

 

I remember the feelings of shame/anxiety and angst that collided with strength, empowerment and courage. I felt fear and bravely went ahead anyway. I also was excited to show my quilts - my journey in fabric. The beautiful colors, expressions and healing they held.

A friend said, it was my coming out.

 

In a way, it was me introducing me to the world - the me free from the cloud of denial. Yet she was fairly new to herself - I can see now - 10 years later.

 

While I was in the healing process - and had uncovered and lay bare so much of my wound - I hadn't the time for re-growth. I was still pretty raw and yet I stood up and shared a part of the victim's journey.

The main idea was to be the voice I had longed for, and to speak about what is most often kept silent.

 

Having my quilts present with me, softened and made more palatable my words.

 

Speaking truthfully about the reality of having a pedophile for a father and a mother who knew and allowed it to continue for generations - and how it sets you up in reality - was my tone for the talk.

 

What is so hard for others to understand is how at 46 I suddenly knew what I didn't know before. How denial is just that denial. 

 

When you are raised in a false landscape, you believe it to be your truth. You are not given both sides to debate with.  It is very difficult for my mind to understand the depth and darkness of denial - let alone explain it.  The sheer will of the mind is against you.

What I know to be true, is that there are many souls who live in the land of denial. They believe in its false truths as if they were true.  They are lost among the false realities and are unaware.

Many people believe that denial is a thing you contemplate and then execute. When in fact it happens prior to thought. 

Or more, there is no other choice available.

Until there is.

You don't know what you don't know, until you know.

 

My years of living in denial feel like a separate life - and I died in that one at 46.

 

This second life I am living is so drastically different, I am a new me.

 

The me I am today, even 10 years after the Gala is so much more at peace, in love and with joy - it is beyond what my imagination could imagine.

 

I know that when I began walking out of denial - the future was a ghost on the horizon of 'someday'.

I lived for this moment in time. I took one step at a time hoping I could change the legacy of my family.

I wasn't following a pathway that held a specific destination or place marked "healed" or "whole" or even happy.  All I knew for sure, is that I couldn't repeat what I had lived through.  I wasn't going to be my mother whose blindness and ability to live well in denial cost so many little ones their innocence.

I had to try and walk different. Live different and make choices that cost me my family of origin.

I had to.

 

I had to try. 

 

I didn't once again know what I didn't know. 

I was beginning a journey with a new self into a foreign land of truths and mental awareness. 

And, I was taking my family with me - whether they knew it or not - we'd all experience the effects of my choices.  It wasn't easy for them - or for any one of us.  Being different isn't an easy role to live out. In dysfunctional families it often means estrangement. 

 

We have to make the choices that separate us from the patterns and often that means ending relationships.  Anyone who sided with the pedophile was automatically distanced from.  There was no other way.

There isn't a spot in a relationship that will tolerate child abuse - and family love.

You simply cannot have both.

You get to pick one.

 

What I am most proud of is my ability to stay the course - losing so many along the way.

The relationship deaths were and are, real deaths. 

We ceased to exist for each other.

 

The reason abuse continues on for generations is the inability to sever ties with family.

Those who can, are becoming more and more common.  I do know others now who have left their families for the same reasons. Whereas ten years ago, I knew no one - only a few authors.

 

Looking backwards over the years, I know it was hard and I am not sure where I got my inner determination and grit to stick it out. To walk away from a large family - but I did.

 

I am hopeful as I watch the new generation of my family tree - move through life - they do now have both sides I didn't have. They have me speaking truthfully and acting out that truth, as I stay way from family functions - they are spared denial.

 

Even if, or maybe especially if the reality is harsh and brutal and abuse of children happens - I will speak of it. I will do and say and be the one to says out loud - what needs to be said.

The difference truth would have made to my childhood and the childhood of my sisters and our friends is quite shocking.  So many are now lost to themselves, their own truths and self-love, self-empowerment and a life free of denial.

 

I think the biggest or greatest loss is the loss of self.  

Denying our own truths, our hurts, our fears...and a clear mind.

A mind that can hold even the most shocking of truths.

Yet, often our denial begins with abuse and spares us the harsh reality we live in.

So, while we live in the harsh reality, our minds transpose a nicer overlay of loving kindness.

 

What I am most grateful for is being able to see - even if at first I saw too much - and that I had the ability to speak about what I saw and how it impacted my world.  How freeing it was to be able to walk hand and hand with the truth.  The more I shared and the more I wrote and posted, the more I defined me and began to build me.

 

Ten years and counting from the gala - 17 years and counting waking up from denial.  I love who I am becoming.

 

If my legacy is to give other little girls the chance to know themselves and be themselves and live their truths - I live in peace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Days for Joy

Growing up in a large family and being the oldest of 14 - there was much opportunity to pick up the slack.

Balls were dropped, neglect organically happened due to the sheer numbers.  I was like a sponge - soaking up more and more responsibility.  Lots of what I put myself in charge of, was not mine to carry.

I was trying to rebalance a world that was tipped out of control.

 

It feels like I have been caring for kids since I was a kid. 

 

Or more, being responsible for others responsibilities - and what is more true - I lost view of my own responsibilities.

 

I am responsible for what I take on.

 

I am also responsible for what I don't share - of hogging the responsibilities.

 

In childhood, there was no option, if I didn't step up the balls would have laid on the floor - balls of humanity - a child's need.  The absence of caring adults left me feeing alone, overwhelmed and unseen myself.  But I had to put my needs aside for the critical needs of babies/children.

 

My generation of grandmothers seem to be doing lots of grandchildren watching. Whether it is full-time or part-time. I don't recall my mother's generation doing this. It was often, 18 and out, and once the home was empty of children, they were Scott free.

 

I don't know what has changed - perhaps it is the women - but often we become the secondary caregiver to our grandchild.

 

I almost believe because many of us are still quite capable and are young grandparents - if not by age; but by energy.  We can fill the gaps quite easily.

 

I also know what it feels like to have the weight of responsibility and not having someone to hand it off to, being the responsible one.  It can suck the fun out of your life.

 

Raising children is a serious business and one that requires responsible folks who care. Almost impossible for one to handle alone.  Which I know is why so many of us grandparents step in.  We do it to ease the burden and to hopefully bring support to both the single parent and child.

However, we cannot lose sight of our own lives.

The needs and responsibilities of a child can easily block out our own needs.

 

What I am learning is to ask for help. 

This is new.

For in my childhood home, there was no one to ask - it was overburdened with need and not enough caregivers.

 

What is also challenging, is I am asking for more free time.

Time to do what I love to do.

Asking for space to enjoy life in ways that brings my life - more balance of work and play.

 

Just knowing I can ask, eases the burden of responsibility.  My job is to ask.

To feel that playing in my life is worthy of an ask.

 

I am so grateful that I have a partner who will share responsibility.

I have a backup.

 

My heart aches for those who don't.

And, my heart goes out to the many grandmothers who are out here filling in gaps.  I know it is much harder to do on so many levels. 

I am hopeful that our sacrifices are not for naught. That both our children and their children will live in a kinder world. Where their experiences will be of generational care. Where they feel the love and care from generations above them.

 

In my childhood - grandparents were company. They came over for parties and were treated or handled with care. They were old and not able to do chores or help out - they needed help.

I feel that we are a new generation of grandparents.

I know some badass grandmothers.

The ladies I know are actively enjoying the outdoors.

We have many toys and enjoy doing things together.

We are trying to fit in our grandmother roles with our adventures.

 

I believe we are the new role models where you can still have a life.

Where you can ask for time off to do the things you enjoy.

To be helpful - but not to get lost in responsibility.

 

When my overwhelming feelings come - it is when I lose my life.

My heartbreaks for me as a child. Where my childhood fun was so often neglected - due to being responsible.  

 

Now I am learning that the child will not suffer if I play.

The child will be more than okay.  

There is another adult who cares.

I love that I can play and that it is okay.

I am responsible for the joy I bring to my life.

And, I am responsible for when my life becomes unbalanced.

There are moments to be responsible for others and then, moments to be responsible for self.

 

We are the lucky grandparent generation - for we are able to do so many things with our grandchildren - so many adventures and showing them that being old is fun.  We can even make the caring days - fun days. 

To all the badass grandmothers out there who are going beyond - make sure to ask for days for joy!