IMPERFECT Lady

You be You; honestly.

"Do you like these kind of quilts?" I heard a woman say to her friend - as they gazed at a wall where my art hung. "No" she replied.  And the first woman says, "Me neither, another thing we have in common."

 

What they didn't know is that I was the artist, the woman who was just arranging things in the Gift Shop.

 

They continued on browsing, visiting, commenting, and just being two women out and about.

 

As they near the door where I was working, we struck up a conversation - just the usual customer chatter - and the more you visit, the more curious or questions you ask, in the back and forth.

 

The first woman finally asks me, what sorta art I do.

 

With a smile on my face and a direct look towards her I say, "The quilts on the wall over there."

 

She knows immediately - that I know what she and her friend think of my art. They had given me their honest appraisal.

 

Now, that she knows I am here in living color - the Artist to the Art - she tries to backpedal.

In the backpedalling, she offers up, she is a retired Art Teacher.

She offers up a few more things - but to me the most honest was her first response I over heard.

 

It is funny how we want to soften up our honesty.

Even in our liking or not liking of Art.

 

Art is so personal and feeing invoking - that if it doesn't move you - it doesn't move.  No worries. 

 

I am way way okay with folks not enjoying my art.

I enjoy my art.

I enjoy the process.

I enjoy folks who love it enough to spend their hard earned money on it.

I enjoy folks who want to bring it into their homes.

And, I so understand those who feel differently.

 

I love different art and art that moves something in me. I love when I feel joy and good energy when I see art that has somehow infused feelings inside of it.

 

I think that there are levels of feelings in art.

Safe ones and then those who push you to feel more.

Even if it invokes negative ones. Your art moved them.

 

The art teacher did offer up to me - she understood the hours of time and effort I had taken me to do what I do.

I didn't probe their feelings as to why my art didn't move them. I just allowed them, with respect and kindness, to feel what they felt.

 

I would prefer honesty.

Always.

 

She honestly felt something about my art.  

I respect honest feelings.

 

Just as I am not for everyone, neither is my art.

I love a world of color and contrast and depth the shallows and I love differences.

I appreciate and love honesty above all.

I love who I am and the freedom it gives me - and everyone.

You be you; honestly.

 

 

 

 

 

You do not stand alone.

I stood up for a child.

My child.

My 4 children.

I stood for my siblings.

I stood for their kids.

I stood for the little girl inside of me.

I stood for children everywhere who have been waiting for someone to stand and object.

For someone to see the monsters in their lives.

For someone to hear their voices.

For one ear and one eye show them they are not alone.

 

I stood alone.

I stood shaking

I stood not knowing.

I stood.

 

What does this look like in reality?

What does it take to put a child first?

What does first really really mean?

 

I know I am triggered and reacting to the ways some are 'showing' they care for a child.

 

Here is the deal.

I am a daughter who nobody stood for.

I am a member of a church that didn't stand.

The children in my family and neighborhood and church - had no one stand for us.

 

And, here is another deal.

I stood - when I became aware of sexual abuse within my childhood home.

I stood shaking in horror and disbelief. 

I stood against my father.

I stood against my mother.

I stood against the church who blessed his sins away.

I stood against the ministers who knew and blessed him too.

I stood against the neighbors who knew and kept their kids a way.

I stood against my siblings who supported a father in various ways.

I stood against my siblings who supported my mother.

I stood up and walked away.

I walked away from the excuses, the reasons, the wanting to be part of the church, the family....

You can't be for a child halfway.

This IS black and white.

 

You are either helping the perpetrator or not participating in it.

 

 

This is what standing for a child looks like.

You don't get to decide who you stand against.

You stand for the rights of a child.

You stand for the innocence of the child.

You stand for their mental health - for they think they are crazy and messed up - not that their family and church is.

 

I know I am not addressing the unborn child.

I am talking about how do you prioritize a child who is living - in your home - in your family - in your church. How are you showing them you stand against abuse and for a child?

 

Standing by a child isn't just words.

You can't stand for a child by boycotting companies that support a woman's choice.

You can't stand by a child - only IF it doesn't require you to lose your faith.

 

Here is another deal.

My mother has held on dearly to her faith  -

Dearly.

More dearly than how she held a child.

 

How do I know this.

I am her child.

While she quickly defended her faith and her husband.

She never not once defended me.

 

Standing for a child was not her way.

Standing for a child requires you to have nothing placed before them.

 

What I can't articulate enough is the cost of innocence and what that does to a child.

We grow up feeling we are not enough, we are not valuable etc.

We don't know what it feels like to have a warm soft feeling inside about who we are.

We have been man handled and treated with such disdain by ALL the adults who could have stopped it. So many knew/know and do nothing.

 

I stood and gave names to the Houghton County Detective.

But, what could he do.

I stood and spoke out loud about sexual abuse and estrangement.

I stood and more are now standing with me.

 

Yet, they are also ones who have left the church and often their families.

You don't get to stand for a child when it is convenient  - or comfortable or without a personal cost.

In fact you may lose everything to save one child.

 

You have to put your own life aside - for the child has to come first.

My life as I knew it - shattered.

I would never be the same - thank God.

 

It was and has been my greatest achievement to have stood up against abuse and stood with the child.

 

Again I get it - I am talking about children who are already born. Living - and the ones I am talking about are the ones who had no voice.  

Similar to the unborn the faithful women are talking about.

 

Perhaps it is much much easier to stand for an unborn child - unknown - detached from your own life and the legacy of church and family - than it would be to literally change the patterns within your own faith community and family of origin.

 

My old church the First Apostolic Lutheran Church and the offshoots of it - and the lineage pretty much - all share one common theme. Sexual abuse of its youngest members.  And, if the women are not willing and able to be up in arms about them.  There is now way in hell I can see them standing in line to parent the children that may now be born.

 

In life we can know how things will turn out by past behaviors.

For past behaviors are predictors of the future.

 

I am the oldest girl and my abuse happened oh 55 years or so ago.

I stood up and walked out about 17 plus years ago.

As I sit here today, very little has changed.

 

Abuse still happens.

Silence still echoes.

Support for the perpetrator still happens.

Children are not even close to being first.

 

I often wonder how heaven will be for these faithful women. How they will be able to enjoy paradise knowing the cost of getting there was borne by the children. 

 

I no longer believe that heaven is when we die.

And, I know hell does exist.

But it is here already.

 

I had to look up Faith. For I was wondering what would shatter theirs.

"complete trust or confidence in someone or something."

Since I was them - what I know is that we wholeheartedly believe what we believe, even if what we believe is wrong.  

My faith shattered when I was able to see a truth I hadn't seen.

 

It was my innocence.

When someone saw the monster I felt my father to be. I was set free.

 

Which is why I keep writing - when I feel there is a gap in the dialogue - when I feel this voice needs to be spoken.

 

What I know for sure is that if we can stop the cycles of abuse, if each family can start flipping the patterns, we will have less abuse, more love and awareness. 

The blind faithful will not be the change we need in the world.

We need women who will stand with the children; let's start with the ones who are already born.

 

I stand with those who are already standing.

Who have stood and walked the walk.

May this trend keep moving and growing.

 

In these moments where women feel helpless - you are not.

We need awareness, kindness, compassion, empathy. We need to hold the world in balance.

We need more love, joy and peace.

We can be parent we wish we had.

We can be the adult who knows and stands up.

 

I stand with those who stood up in their own lives. I know the cost.

We are badass, strong, resilient, resourceful, courageous, and loving.

 

I heard on a podcast that humanity always bends towards kindness - the arch as seen in hindsight.

I have to believe this is true.

We are part of those pulling things back towards kindness.

You know who you are.

 

The counter measure toward injustice will be doing the opposite.

Pull hard to sway humanity back into balance.

 

I send loving kindness to those faith full women who know not what they do.

And I send love and strength to those who are already standing.

You do not stand alone.

 

 

When I saw this picture it seemed to fit.

 

 

Their Own Child

How many people are aware of things they are wrong about? Most of us were not taught discernment or have the ability to change our minds/beliefs.  

 

I was raised in a black and white world. I was taught that 'our' church is the only church going to heaven. I was taught that everyone outside of the church was evil.  I was programmed to see the world with a myopic lens.  Very very narrow and completely and utterly wrong.

 

It was embarrassing and mind blowing and brilliantly thrilling to see how wrong I was.

 

I am not sure I can articulate the mind I had and how I saw the world. How I saw a father instead of a pedophile, a mother instead of an accomplice, a church of high morals and values instead of a cult that covered up generation upon generation of sexual abuse, physical abuse, and blessed away the truths.

 

Not only was I not in the 'right' church, I wasn't even in my right mind.  I had been completely brainwashed.

Why I am writing about this is there are so many 'christian' folks who believe they are dead to right on so many issues that are anything but black and white. They believe that they can see the world and the people in it through the correct lens.

 

But, their moral high ground - is not filled with morality integrity compassion or love.

I would have sworn years ago that my mother was a woman of substance, that she would not have tolerated any evil doings.  For the love of God, she didn't allow television, earrings and make-up, swearing, lying and cheating - when we were growing up. She didn't believe in birth control or divorce or stepping out of her faith. The list of sins are long and she abided by them.  She was a christian. She was a member of the First Apostolic Lutheran Church. She belonged and was accepted and she viewed the outside world as worldly, evil and any number of negative adjectives.   And YET.  She was married to a pedophile. Knew it. Covered it up. Helped him. 

 

There seems to be this really weird compartmentalizing that goes on. 

Where they have their faith.

The faith that is unshakable and blocks seeing any evil INSIDE of the religion. Inside of their homes. But the outside oh man the wrong doings they can see.  AND the judgement on those folks.  

They literally cannot see how backwards they see and how it has dire consequences for the innocent children in their charge.  

 

Many of the conservative christian women have given up the rights to their own bodies.

In some little ways and then in life altering ways. They are controlled and don't know it.

 

These closed minded folks believe THEY should be the ones deciding things.

Based on what???

Years and years of living in a small tight circle of likeminded folks - being controlled by the elders?

Who have sat in judgement and condemned those who live differently.

Folks who have not been able to see themselves from the outside looking in.

 

I only knew how backwards I was, when my world flipped upside right.

The world wasn't backwards, I WAS.

I cannot emphasize this enough. I WAS WRONG.  

 

 

What I know to be most true is the feelings I had towards myself and others while IN the church and the how my feelings change after leaving.

The night and day difference is mind shattering. Literally. 

 

While they may feel love, compassion, joy and peace IS in the conservative church and that forgiveness of sins IS the only way to heaven and being in the one right and true church, it is all fear.

Fear of the outside.

Fear of sins.

Fear of the body and it's connection to the devil (we were told)

Fear of hell

Fear of not following, conforming, not being part of.

The list of fears are endless.

 

There are grown ass adults who won't leave - due to the shunning.  They are not staying in because of LOVE, they are in the church out of fear of finding out there is no love when you leave.

If these religions were based on love.  

Love is freedom.

Period.  

They would not want to be in charge of making choices for anyone. Period.

 

Love doesn't have conditions.

Love honors truths.

Love doesn't control.

Love allows others to be who they were born to be.

Love lets each person walk their own walk - knowing we don't know what is in their hearts.

Love doesn't take their power away. 

Love empowers.

 

 

The only church I have found that can embrace my wide open heart and mind is nature.

 

When my world was falling a part. I no longer fit into my family of origin and the old church members began to shun me. I was fully accepted and embraced by the sunshine, the earth, the trees; nature.

My nature matched it.

 

My imperfections were perfect.

 

What I want women to know is your choices is yours.

Your journey is yours.

Your heart knows what it knows.

 

Empowered women, empower women.

 

If this reversal shows anything, it will show the narrow cold hearts of so many christians.  It is through narrow eyes and fear full hearts they see the world.

 

My question is, who is on the right side of this? Who has the most open mind and heart? Who walks with compassion and will hold up these women who find themselves in circumstances that few will know unless they walked there.

 

I don't believe folks can make laws/rules etc until they have walked in those shoes.

 

I know many conservative faithful women are standing in righteous contempt and believe to the depth of their souls they get it and are voting for a life.

 

I am also quite sure there are leagues of women who have blessed away sins of sexual abuse of a child - and think they are child advocates. Really.  

I know from my experiences, women of my old church who will stand against abortion; but cannot, will not, stand against the men who are hurting children. They can't stand for the children in the congregation - let alone an unknown, unborn child.

 

I have spoken to many over the years who know someone in their family is committing sexual assault on children - but the only thing they get from our conversations, in the end - is that I am trying to get them to leave the church, to put down their faith and they won't.  

I am not.

I am trying to get them to see that a child's innocence may be worth more than their faith. They disagree. The conversations stop.

They will not leave the church. 

 

How can they stand for up for a child. AND, one that is outside of their church?

Come on.  We are all soiled evil unbelievers -and I am worse I left. 

I know this is off the subject. But, what I want to share is how backwards their minds, hearts and beliefs are.  AND, these are the ones who are saying they stand for a child.

No they don't.

They stand for their faith. Period.

It only sounds christian like to stand for a child.

But, if you won't stand for yours, how will you stand for one outside of your faith.

 

I know this is a long and rambling post.

But I have no faith in the women of faith.

The women who put their faith before anything. Anything even their own child.

 

 

Presence of Art

Yesterday I was part of Art Week in Marquette, and it was about demonstrating your art - and I misunderstood and yet I overachieved.

I brought way way too much art compared to the other artists.

We were a small group.

It is a new part of Art Week.

There even was a painting class going on.

There were 4 trees and a lamppost that held the clothesline.  The committee envisioned my art in trees along the harbor to bring attention to this space. I believe I achieved that.

Folks came from the end of the harbor, saying they had to come and see what this was about.

It truly was a Pop Up art show in Lower Harbor.  Where folks happen upon art in an unexpected way.

I received so many wonderful compliments and brought giggles and joy.  A woman just kept saying, these make me so happy!!!  It felt good to hear others feel the good energy, joy and humor in my art.  The joy I have playing with fabric is clearly understood by those who were drawn to the quilts flapping in the breeze along the harbor.

Part of being an artist is to make others feel something.

I love that my ladies ignite good feelings.

And, I did demonstrate - some of what I do, by machine quilting.  It was so nice to be outside sewing. The lighting was perfect, the temperatures amazing - and only a biting fly or two near the end. 

It was fun to see the interest of young girls and them sharing with me what they have made.

One quilter was so happy that Quilting was being represented in Art Week.

So, I represented Fiber Arts - I achieved that.

Yesterday was a great reminder that being an artist isn't just about selling or the monetary value of our product. I felt the interest and curiosity others had. I was sharing a process and involving them in my art.

It wasn't about me - it was about my art.

My art has more value than its value.

I hope that a few seeds were planted, that someone felt it was possible to play with fabrics and to toss aside patterns and do some free form sewing.

My daughter came with me - and we had a very nice afternoon by the water.  It was a relaxing show for her. I so appreciate her efforts in helping me set up and take down shows, not to mention handling sales.

I am adding this last picture, even though the blog space may contort its clarity.  For some reason some pictures don't load correctly.

I love this, the lamppost, the water, the bench, the folks and my quilts.

 

All in all, it was a great day.  I came and represented quilters and artists. I brought what I do and shared a part of the creation process.  I made a few new friends and introduced my art to more people.  

Success is in the feelings.

It was a gorgeous day in the harbor and we were there for 6.5 hours. In the shade, surrounded by quilts on the line. Boats floating by, bikers biking by and folks walking and having picnics and Artists doing their art.

Perfection.

Art Shows without selling, seem to be the most organic. And, as someone commented, more intimate. We had time to chat and exchange ideas. Time to visit and share our humanity. I felt like I was making so many new friends.

 

I am glad I had this experience.

To feel and value my art on a different level. 

 

Don't get me wrong, I love when folks buy my art. I love that value too. I love when someone loves it enough to part with their hard earned money. I love being able to support my art with my art. 

And yet, it was good to take money off the table and just be with the process and presence of art.

 

 

 

 

Serious Artist.

 

Being an artist is a weird thing.  

Selling what you play with seems often weirder.  

 

Now that I am retired, I was feeling like I had to become more 'serious' about being an artist.

Like creating more, showing more, selling more, thinking more, doing more, being more....

I don't even know how to be an artist. I just know how to be me.

And, it seems impossible to be serious in creating art.

When the serious tones entered into my art - it felt heavy and a duty and responsible - kinda grown up feeling.

Being a serious artist was not fun.

 

When I was working, Art was just a side hustle.  A thing I did on Sundays.

Or I would sneak it in before work.  

 

I am thinking I have to keep my Art playful and free and a fun thing I do now and again.

It has to be fun and something I do on the side of life. But, not life.

Sorta like sneaking out of life to play like a kid.

Or skipping the seriousness of life and do art.

 

Tomorrow I will be doing a pop up art display in the Lower Harbor in Marquette as part of Art Week. (3pm until 6pm).  A perfect short show.

 

I was kinda stressing when I was trying to figure out what this display show thing would look like.

Until I remember doing pop up art shows with a friend along Lake Superior.

We just added our art to the trees.

 

That is exactly what I will do in the Lower Harbor.

And, I have permission to drape my quilts on branches of trees.  I am bringing a clothes line in case we 

can go from tree to tree.

 

The part I love the most about doing art is the unexpected, the surprise and delight of what emerges as I play.  Same too will be for the Popup Show.

 

And, I am thinking that there isn't much about life that is serious serious.

Especially once retired.

 

What I am going to strive for is less and less serious and more playtimes.

 

Thank God I am not a serious Artist.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.