IMPERFECT Lady

I love you today.

Today is also our 35th Wedding Anniversary.  

 

I don't even know where to begin or how to encapsulate our 35 years.

The girl I was when we met is so far from who I am today, and yet my husband loved both of them.

 

Marriage has changed for me in these past many years.

Or how I see marriage differently.

 

I think I thought in the early years that marriage came before us.

That in order to have a good marriage, you focused on that.

 

What I have come to learn is that the marriage is only as good as the individuals who are in it.

And, it has to have two willing partners.

 

Also marriage can either be a prison or open space without limits - the couple decides this or maybe more true, how you feel about yourself matters the most.

If you are secure in who you are and allow each other to be themselves, there is boundless freedom to be.

 

About 17 years ago when my world fell apart, our marriage lay on the floor.  I couldn't attend to it - and me.

And, I didn't know who I was going to be when all the dust cleared - or who I would love.

So, we began saying "I love you today", it seemed most honest.  Our marriage or our lives became present. We didn't worry about the future - just now.  And in doing so, we focused on our individual truths and the marriage followed.

I am not sure I am articulating the fluidness of our space together and the comfort it brings to not have to measure up or keep the same.  The space and organic flow allows for changes and truth. 

 

All the old standards of marriage and its religious constraints no longer exist.

What is in its place are two people who love life, being themselves and with each other. 

35 years later and I love us more.

I love our love.

I love and know who I am - which makes it easier to love.

 

What I love about my husband is he allowed me to breakdown and fall apart and rebuild myself in ways that were strikingly different than who I was before.  He made room for the new me and even more importantly allowed the old me to die.

I am quite certain that our marriage would have failed - if there were constraints put upon me.

If he needed me to be the old me - the marriage would have died - and his love would have been conditional.

Unconditional means - No Conditions.

 

The best marriages allow you to be yourself and to change when change is required.

And, we had also gave each other permission to walk away. IF and When we felt we didn't love each other. It would not mean that either of us was wrong or bad - but that our love changed.  What we wanted most is for each of us to be free, to love, or not love, and to go or to stay. 

 

35 years and counting...I love you today.

 

Happy Badass Women's Day

Mother's Day could be women's day - a day where we celebrate the women in our lives that have enriched us, accepted us, honored us, empowered us, loved us, and encouraged us to be more of who we were born to be.  

A day to look back at all the wonderful kind loving women who have stepped in and gave us what we didn't get from our own mothers.  

I have had women who have shown me examples of what a loving means.

Women who displayed boundaries.

Women embraced truths

Women who loved themselves deeply.

Ladies who lived colorful expressive artful lives.

Badass women whose lives are filled with adventures.

These ladies each carry a snippet of Mom for me.

 

The ones who I could share my life trials with and who understood it wasn't the end and offered words of value in hopeless seeming situations.

Those who accepted the transformation of Me - not only accepted; but cheered me on.

And many who have re-introduced me to the outdoors.

 

I am so grateful to so many badass wise women who today - I celebrate.

I love that I have mom energy from so many different women.

I feel I am in a family of female energy that is changing legacies and defining new patterns and leaving in their wake, hope.

And love.

And self acceptance, awareness and confidence in being you.

 

It has taken women from many walks of life and ages to restore me - to shine me up and dust off the brokenness.

I feel a heartwarming melt for you all.

Mother's Day for me will be Women's Day.

Women who live their lives being true to who they are, who are wise and adventurous.  Whose lives may have sucked a time or two - who have found themselves on their knees in grief - but rose to live a life worth celebrating - those who have redefined themselves to fit into their new normal. I honor you today.

I love your examples of living life - regardless of the struggles you have had to overcome - you continue to shine forth and love, live, laugh and find joy.  

Life isn't easy and the older we get the more we realize all the hurtful sorrows do fade or they are surrounded by little moments of good life.  

Happy Women's Day - or maybe Happy Badass Women's Day!

 

 

 

You Will Always Belong

I am reading about Belonging in Brene Brown's Book "Atlas of the Heart - Mapping Meaningful Connections."

"We have to belong to ourselves as much as we need to belong to others. Any belonging that asks us to betray ourselves is not true belonging."

"True belonging is the spiritual practice of believing in and belonging to yourself so deeply that you can share your most authentic self with the world and find sacredness in both being a part of something and standing alone in the wilderness. True belonging doesn't require you to change who you are; it requires you to be who you are."

"We can never truly belong if we are betraying ourselves, our ideals or our values in the process. That is why it's a mistake to think that belong is passive and simply about joining or "going along" with others. It is not. Belonging is a practice that requires us to be vulnerable, get uncomfortable, and learn how to be present with people without sacrificing who we are. When we sacrifice who we are, we not only feel separate from others, but we even feel disconnected from ourselves."

"Because we can feel belonging only if we have the courage to share our most authentic selves with people, our sense of belonging can never be greater that our level of self-acceptance."

 

What I love most about Belonging, is that you can only belong if you are authentic. 

And the level in which you feel deep belonging is as deep as your own self-acceptance.

 

In her book she writes about the difference between "Belonging and Fitting in"

"Belonging is being accepted for you - Fitting in is being accepted for being like everyone else.

If I get to be me, I belong. If I have to be like you, I fit in.

Belonging is being somewhere you want to be, and they want you. Fitting in is being somewhere where you want to be, but they don't care one way or the other.

Not belonging at school is really hard. But it is nothing compared to what it feels like when you don't belong at home. "

 

I even looked up Self- acceptance to see if I understood that correctly.

"Self-acceptance is defined as “an individual's acceptance of all of their attributes, positive or negative"

 

When I look back at my life and where I am today, I can see how I didn't belong but fit in.

And, there were certain understandings that we all accepted in order to fit in.

 

The longing to belong was the thirst of my childhood.

When perhaps it was me seeking to accept me wholly.

To even know me completely.

 

What is sad to me, is that there are so many of us out there that don't belong.

Because we will not leave ourselves behind in order to do so.

 

When you feel that your whole self is not embraced and accepted - then we tend to back away.

 

The cult-like religions like the FALC - often want you to fit in - and when you don't you feel the shunning.

I had to look up shunning.

"Persistently avoid, ignore, or reject (someone or something) through antipathy or caution."

 

They tend to avoid and ignore those who don't fit in.

 

I don't recall feeling the deep set feelings of belonging.

I myself had very little self-acceptance. I had church acceptance IF I followed their rules.

 

What I know now is any group that doesn't allow you to be you, is not one that sees you.

Even in families - or perhaps especially in families.

She writes about her children and how she wants them to feel.

"As a parent, my goal is to help my children believe in, and belong to themselves, and to know that, no matter what, they always belong at home. That we see them and love them for who they are. The pressure to fit in is real and unrelenting, but if we can create a sense of inextricable connection, it's a fierce protector as they navigate belonging. Be here.Be you. Belong.

 

I will make a quilt with this last three lines. This is my mantra.

That is the space I want to hold for everyone.

As long as you are real, authentic and being you - you will always belong.

 

 

 

Live Without Shame.

 

I have listened to this podcast a few times and appreciate hearing other families talk about how their personalities were formed in survival and how that impacts their lives when they are older.

What I loved the most is how to stop shame.

That in order to end the cloud of shame - normalizing is the fix.

 

I have been talking about this - repeatedly to different folks in conversations.

How IF everyone spoke about the 'imperfections' in their lives - we'd all feel more normal.

We tend to hide things we feel 'ashamed' about.

 

I had to look up the definition of shame.

"a painful feeling of humiliation or distress caused by the consciousness of wrong or foolish behavior."

 

Wrong or foolish behavior.

 

What is the right and sensible behavior in responding to dysfunction, abuse etc.

 

We are not taught what is a normal response and yet we are expected to act normal in an abnormal environment.

 

This looks like living your untruth.

We can't act or respond in truth - we have to live as if everyone is fine - when everyone is so not fine.

 

This edict isn't negotiable.

We are born into a family of pretenders and believe and trust the lie.

 

The feelings of being shameful - are subconscious and maybe not.

It seems like I knew something was off, but didn't know it wasn't me.

I thought I was off.

I was not normal.

I couldn't love or feel closeness.

 

The part in the podcast where Brene speaks of not being part of the family struck home to me.

She was the protector, she was the one who took care of her siblings. She wasn't a sibling.

I too played that role.

I wasn't the parent and I wasn't the child - I was acting as the man in between and so responsible I couldn't let my hair down to have and be fun.

 

I didn't know then that this wasn't normal or that it was normal for a older child to step out of being a sibling to try and help.

 

Yet how much help can you actually do, when the parents are the ones harming your family?

 

My mother would say I was wise beyond my years - or so responsible - and what I wanted most was for her to be wise, for her to be responsible, and let me be a kid.

 

I was born into a family of shame - where the behaviors were wrong.

I wasn't wrong.

I was wronged.

I had nothing to be ashamed of.

 

Recently or I should say Presently - I have my art and my words hanging out in public.  Many have commented on my ability to share all that I do.  

And the main reason is I no longer feel shame.

I no longer feel deeply that what I am doing is wrong.

I do feel that a wrong has happened; but not by me.

 

And, I also feel it is extremely helpful for me to share my experience without shame.

For that will open the space up for another to do the same.

We need to normalize speaking up and sharing.

Normalize even the struggles of doing so.

That it is possible to find and live your truth and be in joy.

 

I love sharing my art, but my real passion is sharing my story - to normalize it.

The stigma of abuse has caused enough angst and heartache to last many generations.

The hardest thing to undo is the lies about yourself.

 

We tend to believe we are not normal after abuse - instead of that abuser not being normal.

When families are silent about the abusers, and make them 'normal' and hide their abusive behaviors and tendencies, the child then feels they are not normal.

And, they have no place to respond or be responsible in how they and their bodies want to respond.

Especially if the abuser is family.

 

There is simply no place for you to bring your truths in a family circle who is pretending the abuser is still a father and husband.  You then have to act/pretend all is well. And we are made to feel shame IF we choose to act in a right way and not uphold the wrong doing as normal.

 

I am not sure I am articulating this correctly.

But, my mind is clear in that when a child's wounds of abuse are not seen and heard - and the abuser is unaddressed and allowed free rein - we are made to feel we are shameful and wrong - not that our family home has parents doing wrong.

 

In Alice Miller's books she was right about how it is crucial in seeing our parents in the reality of what who they are - in order for us to heal our childhood wounds.

She isn't doing this to put parents down - but to raise children up.

 

Whether you agree or not agree about who my parents are and how 'good' they are or that they did their 'best'.  What matters most is how their lives made us feel about ourselves. Whether we were allowed to have a childhood with someone who was responsible to keep us safe and make us feel love.

 

What I know, in my heart of hearts is that the shame is theirs to bare.

The children were innocent when they came into their world.

And, I myself was not responsible to save them.

I was a child - yet made to not be a sibling.

I felt responsible; but not in control.

 

Normalizing that it is normal coming from whence I came.

 

My focus has been on reclaiming the little girl who could have been.

In being with me.

Being me.

Loving me and life.

Normalizing this journey so others can live without shame.

 

What I love about the clothesline quilts are how they seem to neutralize the stigma of airing your dirty laundry.  How my storyline quilts are out on display - but you feel the beauty in my journey - as well as the effects from abuse.  More clothesline quilts to come...

 

 

 

 

The Right Direction

I looked back in my blog and the first time these Story Line Quilts were displayed was July 2012 at the Strawberry Festival Quilt show- almost 10 years ago.

There is a difference in who I was back then, compared to who I am today.

I was more vulnerable back then.

My new life was just 7 years old.

I had been processing, healing, dealing and feeling the truth of so much dysfunction - unraveling and dissecting and discovering - I was freshly exposed.

I had been blogging for 3 years - yet that didn't feel as public as hanging my Art Therapy Quilts in public.

And, it isn't the quilts.  It is the story that rides with them. Or even more, the reaction of folks seeing them.

I was afraid of the backlash.

 

Which I believe is all victims. We hold our silence in fear of what others will say and do.

 

In reading my blog from July 2012 -I wrote about my friend's responses - and how touched they were with the quilts.  Women who have walked with me, cheering me on, who have listened and read my blog - were still moved emotionally by the quilts.

There is something profound in how these quilts seemed to hold emotions, expressions and energy of Me. It is like a part of me resides in each quilt.

Even in their beauty, sorrow and sadness is felt. The challenge of my journey.

 

So, as I look ahead to the Artist Reception - and being with others as they are with my quilts - I believe I will be in a much better place.  

In the 10 years that passed - I have added so much to my life.

Imagine WIND was born that summer too.

There are so many women who I now call Friend, who came to me through WIND.

A community of beautiful, strong, courageous souls who understand that life can take a new direction, whose hearts know tragedy and pain - and yet they live life with open hearts - open to adventure and a new direction.

Within the community of WIND, I have grown both inwardly and outwardly in confidence in the adventures we have shared.

 

There is more distance between where I am today and the deep wound. And, I have more confidence in who I am and what I can do - and even more what I can survive. And, how these shows are not hurtful for me - but have given me so much in return.

 

In the past few weeks I was feeling the weight of being out front.  Of not having a good role model as a mother - to follow.  That in every curve of the road, I have to 'figure' it out. I am having to make the first steps - consciously.  There isn't a true path forward that leads to a loving, happy family. I have to be the one I want to follow - and I am winging it.  I don't know for sure what the lifetime outcome will be - until I can look in the rearview mirror or others can.

 

There are days I just want to glide.

To coast along without a care - behind a loving pattern.

 

My Storyline isn't a follow-line.

 

What I understand, and often feel tired and overwhelmed with, is that I am continually breaking trail. There is no one who will do this for me.  The women who came before me in my family are creating the old pattern where abuse is tolerated, kept silent and often supported subconsciously.

In order to be have a new pattern, I have to make it.  

My story line of quilts shows the woman growing in her self-confidence and worth.

That is the pattern I am building. I am continually growing.

A work in progress.

Still.

 

I am not sure when the gliding comes or if I would even really enjoy it.

 

What I know is that I am at peace with who I am and see the positive outcome from so many tough choices I had to make along the way.  

I like the view looking back at my storyline.

Even if I can't see the finish line - I am going in the right direction.

 

Off to Show My Soul

My quilts are rolled up and loaded into the car - their labels have been printed - they are all set to be put on display.

I was chosen by the Peter White Library Arts Committee to show my art in their Huron Mountain Club Gallery on the first floor at the Library.

They will be there until May 20th.

April is Sexual Assault Awareness month, and I am honored to have my Art hanging during this month to help bring awareness. I am hopeful they will bring hope and inspiration to others who also have been victims of abuse.

May is Mental Health Awareness month.  By sharing my art therapy quilts, they show others they are not alone.  

 

I believe it was 8 years ago when they were at the Dial Help Gala at Michigan Tech, and I once again feel the excitement and vulnerability.  I am thrilled to have this opportunity and at the same time - shy.

(I looked back in my blog and the first outing for these quilts was for the 2012 Strawberry Festival Quilt Show - almost a decade ago.)

 

Sharing my Art Therapy quilts is to share parts of my journey that holds much stigma.

Being able to walk without fear into the Huron Mountain Gallery and shake out each quilt and put it under the spotlight - is equal to walking in naked.

Yet I told a friend the other day, that vulnerability is courage.

It is true.

You gotta be a badass to display details others keep secret.

 

What I know for sure is that the more of us who show our imperfections, the easier it is for others to deal with theirs.  For so long the goal of life it seemed was to be perfect.  Allowing for imperfections feels more real to me.

I am not interested in perfection.

Even in my quilts and art.

I quilt by feelings.

I live by feelings.

I make mistakes and errors - both in life and art.

That is the way.

 

So, if you are in the Marquette area and are interested in Art, Art Therapy, and my journey - stop in the Peter White Library.   They are also going to have many of the books that helped me on my journey on display in the gallery or nearby.  

If you do, drop me a note.

Off to show my soul.

 

 

My Rearview Mirror

So today began the task of writing labels for My Storyline quilts.  I have misplaced my book - the one I had made in 2012 -however, I can go online and look at it.

I have three different versions of what the quilt represents.

The book is the oldest version and it is quite remarkable.

I then have the words that hung with the quilts at Copper Country Mental Health.

Then I found 3 pages with short descriptions of each quilt.

 

Now, I am wondering if I do a fourth, or chose from all three, and have a combination with the hanging quilts.

 

I wonder if it is best to update and look at the quilt from this moment in time - or stick to the version from ten years ago.

 

These quilts were created by a woman who had very little understanding of herself, the human journey and her experiences in it.  I am once again blown away by my daring to create given my state of being.

I was pushing back boundaries and overstepping lines - going against the grain - even in quilting.

 

It is like I am seeing hand-me-downs from my old self.

I see so much in each quilt and it brings me back to that time.

How I loved what I was doing with my quilting and how odd it all is - even today.

They are therapy pieces or scraps from my journal.

I can't wait to see them hanging together once again in a new venue.

 

Now, if I can only find the words or voice I want to use as I write about them.

And, a part of me feels the angst of 'airing my dirty laundry' again.

Another part is excited to give voice to the silence that echoes so loudly - still today.

 

Many voices speak in these quilts and they are all Me.

Sitting here today - the artist feels so much more secure, alive, aware, and self-accepting.

Looking in my rearview mirror.

 

Comfortable in a Very Uncomfortable World.

I am reading "Atlas of the Heart" by Brené Brown. 

 

She writes

"Our anxiety often leads to one of two coping mechanisms: worry or avoidance. Unfortunately, neither of these two coping strategies is very effective.

Worry and anxiety go together, but worry is not an emotion; it's the thinking part of anxiety. Worry is described as a chain of negative thoughts about bad things that might happen in the future.

What really got me about the worry research is that those of us with the tendency to worry believe it is helpful for coping (it is not), believe it is uncontrollable (which means we don't try to stop worrying), and try to suppress worry thoughts (which actually strengthens and reinforces worry). I'm not suggesting that we worry about worry, but it is helpful to recognize that worrying is not a helpful coping mechanism, that we absolutely can learn how to control it, rather than suppressing worry, we need to dig into and address the emotion driving the thinking.

Avoidance, the second copings strategy for anxiety, is not showing up and often spending a lot of energy zigzagging around and away from that thing that already feels like it's consuming us. And avoidance isn't benign. It can hurt us, hurt other people and lead to increased and mounting anxiety. In her book The Dance of Fear, Dr. Harriet Lerner writes, "It is not fear that stops you from doing the brave and true thing in your daily life. Rather, the problem is avoidance. You want to feel comfortable, so you avoid doing or saying the thing that will evoke fear and other difficult emotions.  Avoidance will make you feel less vulnerable in the short run, but will never make you less afraid."

 

Okay, here is what I didn't know - yet knew - worry and avoidance are not effective.  I didn't know that worry was the thinking part of anxiety. But it makes total sense. Our minds go on a wild negative journey and keep us from feeling our emotions.  I didn't know that either.  I was kept from my own emotions by worry. 

And we use avoidance - in order to stay comfortable.  I so get this. This avoidance kept me from living my life as me. From feeling my emotions, from really being in my body.

I think, I thought anxiety was nervousness or unsureness - but instead it is the mechanism used to keep us from facing our truths.  

And this - "Avoidance will make you feel less vulnerable in the short run, but will never make you less afraid."  How counterintuitive is this - we supposedly avoid to feel less afraid - yet it doesn't work.

I do know for certain my whole state of being was drastically altered when I began walking forward into very tough and scary truths and faced my life, my family head on. It was like blowing through all the worry gates and anxiety barriers.

What I didn't know at the time was that I was walking towards feeling less afraid.

 

Brené goes on.

 

"The entire premise of this book is that language has the power to define our experiences, and there's no better example of this than anxiety and excitement.

Anxiety and excitement feel the same, but how we interpret and label them and determine how we experience them.

Even though excitement is described as an energized state of enthusiasm leading up to or during an enjoyable activity, it doesn't always feel great. We can get the same "coming out of our skin" feeling that we experience when we're feeling anxious. Similar sensations are labeled "anxiety" when we perceive them negatively and "excitement" when we perceive them positively. One important strategy when we're in these feelings is total a deep breath and try to determine whether we're feeling anxiety or excitement. Researchers found that labeling the emotion as excitement seems to hinge on interpreting the bodily sensations as positive. The labels are important because they help us know what to do next."

 

 

I do recall hearing this before that anxiety and excitement feel the same.

We do have to beware how we label what we are feeling.

And for those of us coming from traumatic backgrounds, especially careful.

Often our paths into new experiences feel like anxiety - but what if instead we are excited to be learning and growing.  Feeling of excitement often leads us into cool experiences.  Feelings of anxiety not so much.

 

I also believe, that if we have had tough conversations and faced difficult truths in our worlds, we can better discern what is anxiety and what is excitement.  For the only way anxiety needs to be in our worlds is because we have places and topics and discussions we don't want to face.

Once you faced your life with brutal honesty, there is really no need for anxiety; for anxiety is there to only keep you comfortable.

But it is a false sense of comfort. For there is a truth, or difficult conversation, or knowing, that lies right behind it. 

You are using anxiety to not face a truth.

And there is a real reason in your world to be in fear.

Something, someone isn't who you believe them to be.

This was true for me.

My whole world was upside down and backwards and I was living with anxiety to keep it all at bay.

Once I faced it all - the anxiety left me.

For it was only there to keep me comfortable in a very uncomfortable world.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sing Out Loud

Retirement or growing older, gives us the space to see ourselves and how we fit into our lives.

If you are lucky, by the time you retire, you have grown into a self that your soul feels at rest in.

 

What I am learning, is that there is a sweet spot - where you are not trying to do too much; but are not too lazy either.  Yet I love my lazy hours too.

 

I am into my second month of being retired. I luxuriate on the freedom of time.  I do also feel though the anxiety of wasting it, figuring out what to do, or rather how I spend it.

Just as we bank our finances - we make choices on how to spend them.

In retirement there is time; but the time is also our lives being drained.

The minutes and hours are our life, and we have now lived longer than we have to live.

 

What do I want to spend my time on?

And the time to do what you dreamed of, "when I retire" is now here.

"Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life.". Mary Oliver.

 

I feel the preciousness of health and life flowing away. 

I feel the anxiety of grasping on to this and then this.

Of making sure what I am doing will matter.

To me.

 

I am not sure doing art for art sake is for me.

Yet, I love it.

What part of me and my life is about art?

 

Living life and its purpose, seems to be front and center.

 

Yet what does living really mean?

More what is now my purpose of life.

Being retired isn't a purpose.

Doing art isn't a purpose on its own either.

Is there an intention of living that is enough.

To live.

 

Does there have to be an agenda, a meaning or purpose?

Is there a purpose of retirement?

It almost feels like I lived unintentionally my whole life.

Most of it surviving.

Or on someone else's purpose.

 

As a religious person in my younger years, you lived out the desires of the church and for an afterlife.

In recent years, I lived out the awakening from denial and exploring old beliefs.

The unraveling for sure was a purpose - to be free.

 

In the freedom years - now - now what?

What experiences do I want to experience?

What parts of life do I now want to explore?

 

You can get caught up in one day rolling into the next mindlessly and without your instruction or direction.

 

Coming from co-dependency, it feels like a sin to focus on just me.

To look at my life from my point of view.

 

Retirement allows you to look at your legacy and see if there are things you still would love to accomplish.

Places and experiences you feel drawn to.

Maybe I want this part of my life have more intention or rather my attention.

 

It feels like all of the excuses ran out.

There is now no reason not to do what you love to do, not to explore or experience new places and things.

 

What I also know, is that much of this has been off my radar.

I now need to start looking in the places I have ignored - to see what is out there waiting for me.

I think I thought, it would naturally come to me - I am now understanding, I need to be curious and searching, open to new ideas, and moving into places I have not been before.

 

Perhaps retirement can be an adventure, if you dare to engage with attention to the world around you.

Retirement can be soul full years.  Living life doing what makes your soul sing out loud.

 

Covering Up?

I think people think, that the hardest part of speaking up about sexual abuse is the speaking up. The harder part is not being believed.

My voice and my words appear powerless, and the benefit of the doubt goes to the pedophile or person doing red flag behaviors, and even to the silent ones who know.

And those who speak of it - somehow - are made to be the ones insane.

Our character, motives, opinions etc are questioned - not why the others are silent or the actions of the abuser.

 

My speaking up is worse than the actual person doing the abusing.  

I am seen as slandering the family. I am the one wrecking the image of the family.  Not the ones who are actually abusing children and the ones who are silent about it.  It is so backwards, it is insane. I am the problem, not that there is a problem.

 

This dance has been going on for generation upon generation.

The pedophiles do not act alone.

Those who are silent form an impenetrable wall around the abuser. 

They are silent to protect his innocence.

Silence is golden for the abuser, and dangerous for innocent children.

And, if you speak up about the abuse - people move away from you.

You become isolated - while the abuser is kept within the tight circle of family.

 

 

In order for abuse to continue it needs a few key participants.

Or maybe just one.

Silence.

 

What is the Ellie Wiesel's quote,

"The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing."

And, another one that is applicable.

"We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor; never the tormented."

 

In the dynamics of families who have abusers in the mix, everyone picks a side.

The only innocent bystander is a child - an innocent child who believes that the adults in her/his world will keep them safe. That they are safe with family.

 

You can either stand on the side of the abuser or his victims.

There is no in-between space to be.

You are either speaking out or being silent.

 

Silence is a crucial and key part of the dysfunctional family.

 

I have lived on both sides now.

And, I don't even know how to articulate the vast differences in both lands.

I have rightly been accused of being silent for 46 years.

I was part of the problem.

I denied my denial.

I denied my own abuse.

I had to look up denied. "State that one refuses to admit the truth or existence of"

Yes I refused to admit my own truths and the existence of abuse within our family.

 

Keeping up the image of our family being a good one, was hard.  Speaking about abuse is harder.

I was seen as a good daughter and sister in my silence.

And, the opposite for speaking out.

 

And, many would love to see me go silent again.

To stop talking.

Stop writing.

Stop being.

Just stop, so we can have our loving image of family.  

 

Will my silence make it so?

 

It is interesting the team of silence keepers compared to the tiny crew of those speaking up.

When they say silence is deafening, it truly is. It drowns out the screams of abuse.

 

I had thought that one person could matter. That one voice could break the trance of denial. That one eye who saw the truth, would be enough.  I was wrong.  I didn't calculate the strength of silence.  The sheer volume of those unspeaking.

 

The chorus of silence is overpowering -creating a false innocence. And the lone voices speaking up are seen to be insane, family haters, slanderers, folks who don't care....- feel free to toss in your own opinion of me.

 

Perhaps it is easier to disown me and my voice - than it is to disown their own family.

I had to look up "disown".

"Refuse to acknowledge or maintain any connection with."

 

I totally feel disowned - due to me speaking up.  And, it isn't me personally; but the truth I speak of.  They don't want to acknowledge it - so it is easier to refuse to acknowledge me. They want to maintain a connection with family and it is easier to disconnect from me.

 

In the past 17 years I have been speaking out, my biggest hurdle is the strong silent army of silence.

And, sadly they don't realize that their silence is the very thing that a child believes is free of danger.

The child believes that silence means nothing is there.

How could a child know that underneath the silence is an abuser.

They innately look up to adults and believe they have their best interests at heart.

The silence of the adults in my world  - allowed me to be abused by my father. 

The silence of the adults allowed many little girls to be abused.

The silence became my way of life too - until it wasn't.

 

My silence cost children their innocence.

My speaking up is trying to rectify that.

I was, and am damned on both sides now.

 

Standing up for abuse, I am finding, is endless.

You don't just get to speak up once.

Each time another generation comes along, so do new abusers.

That is the only logical way abuse flows from generation to generation.

There is through line.

An orchestrated dance of doing exactly what the generation before you did.

You will get the same results.

 

Abusing and silence are the dance partners for generational abuse. One simply wouldn't survive without the cloak of silence. 

You know what is weird - you would think in the war or battle against abuse, you would be battling the abusers.  Instead who your greatest opponents are, are the silent ones.

What is the silence covering up?