IMPERFECT Lady

Circle of Women Relatives

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

 

It is all curious.

 

Curious we are sisters.

 

Living worlds apart.

 

Very close today.

 

Completely different.

 

Other relatives swam - I didn't recognize them.

 

A beautiful beach afternoon - overcast with memories.

 

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

There is much unknown.

Her path and mine.

 

I don't know hers.

She can't know mine.

 

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

 

Estranged.

 

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

 

I am curious - but not really wanting to engage.

 

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

 

The pleasant niceties lasted a minute or two.

 

I wonder what propelled her to me.

 

Being kind?

We both brought family with us to the lake.

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

 

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

 

Comparing - maybe our lives.

I would have questions - how would she answer.

Who is she now?

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

 

I wonder what she saw as she looked at me?

 

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

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

Grateful for the separation.

Hand stitching on a quilt.

Sun warm on my body.

Waves in my ear.

My heart at peace with my choice.

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

And yet it would be horrifying.

 

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

 

Perhaps if we were alone.

 

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

 

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

More, I wonder what they have been told. 

 

I am the oldest girl in this family of women.

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

They have always known me as the odd man out.

The old aunt who doesn't come around.

 

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

 

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

 

Sitting on the beach today two sides were there.

We both stood on different sides. 

Between us years of silence.

 

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

 

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

The girls who walked away.

 

Girls who found their self-worth.

 

Girls who left trying to end the cycle of abuse.

 

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

 

Girls who left family - to save family.

 

 

I see the relative girls and I wonder.

Wonder what has been communicated and what stays silent.

Wonder if I spoke - would I be heard.

 

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

I can't know how the women relatives sleep.

 

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

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

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

Being different today feels like a fun piece of art.

A freedom of expression.

Perhaps like an eccentric aunt.

 

An odd caricature in the circle of women relatives.

 

Perceive

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

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

 

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

What makes a person good or evil?

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

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

 

How bad am I?

 

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

Are we as good as our worst behavior or action?

Is there a spectrum of good and evil?

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

Especially folks who are behaving poorly.

 

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

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

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

 

What does that mean?

 

Is it possible to not sit on a side?

Can you flow detached - and is that being neutral?

 

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

Where is it and how is this achieved?

 

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

 

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

 

I get this.

I am not expecting him to follow my lead.

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

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

 

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

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

I like the fact that beholders have to pay attention.

I am a beholder - now.  

It cost me to much to not pay attention.

 

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

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

 

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

 

This part can really get my mind going.

What is kindness?

I believe kindness is often misdiagnosed.

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

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

 

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

 

I am not sure that is what kindness does.

To me, kindness stands and faces the truth.

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

 

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

Even hear.

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

I am learning life is all about what you perceive. 

 

Perceive

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

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

 

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

What makes a person good or evil?

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

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

 

How bad am I?

 

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

Are we as good as our worst behavior or action?

Is there a spectrum of good and evil?

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

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

Nothing to be ashamed of.

 

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

 

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

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

Especially folks who are behaving poorly.

 

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

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

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

 

What does that mean?

 

Is it possible to not sit on a side?

Can you flow detached - and is that being neutral?

 

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

Where is it and how is this achieved?

 

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

 

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

 

I get this.

I am not expecting him to follow my lead.

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

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

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

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

 

I like the fact that beholders have to pay attention.

I am a beholder - now.  

It cost me too much to not pay attention.

 

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

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

 

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

 

This part can really get my mind going.

What is kindness?

I believe kindness is often misdiagnosed.

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

 

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

 

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

 

I am not sure that is what kindness does.

To me, kindness stands and faces the truth.

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

 

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

Even hear.

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

I am learning life is all about what you perceive. 

 

Our Legacy

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

 

My husband didn't have the easiest of roads.

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

Love is so much harder when things go sideways.

 

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

 

He did not put any rules upon me.

 

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

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

He loved my wounds.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

This.

 

This is what I celebrate in great fathers.

Fathers who love their wives.

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

 

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

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

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

 

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

 

Unconditional love - no rules - freedom to be love.

 

He has a happy Father's Day every day.  

He makes being a father look easy.

Being a grandpa a piece of cake.

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

 

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

 

This love.

 

Is the love that is our legacy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Branch of the Family Tree

Family has been on my mind lately.  Perhaps it is family reunions, family trips - and now Father's Day.  

There are two opposing threads that are tangled in my mind.

Family and Estrangement.

They don't coexist together. Like water and oil they don't mix - yet they roll around in my mind.  The desire and longing - with the opposing feelings of wanting distance.

 

I can't think of family - without thinking of me being on the outside. And how the family circle continues to turn - appearing unscathed.

 

I almost feel like I was unaware of the path I was taking and what it really really really meant.  That standing up and against sexual abuse within the family meant - being on the outside - losing family members. 

I don't believe I would have ever dreamed this was possible. I would lose family.

 

What else I hadn't counted on - was that most of my family would respond differently than I.

 

I would never have dreamed - we'd all face the same reality and walk completely different with it - based on how we were raised - I would have thought we'd respond the same. 

Just as we sorta lived the same. 

And, for the most part they did respond the same - except me.

 

There is one brother who is an anomaly - he walked for awhile on my path and then turned around and headed back.  This is partly what stirs my mind and thoughts.

Who was he all along?

Who was I talking to?

What was and are his truths.

How can he fit in both camps - when there is no common denominator between these two paths?

An outlier among outliers.

 

It is so interesting during crisis, we see parts of our families characters in a whole new light.  We perhaps get to know them for the first time.

 

Until we are put the test - our whole character is not revealed. I met myself for the first time - it broke my denial and showed me who was - and more it challenged me to dare stare at reality and than act accordingly.

 

It appeared to me - the choices were clear - stand with abuse or stand against it.  And I believe they stood with family or against family.  Which is different - they separated the abuse from the family.

I could not do that.  I wasn't able to separate my father from his abusive behaviors.

To me, each person came with their actions before their title - mom, dad, sibling.

 

It appears I was affected differently by the realization my father was a pedophile - I chose to stand against abuse. Even when family was entangled.  I see it as it is more important - not less. 

I am grateful I am on this path - it just comes with strange and complex musings.

 

 

In estrangement we have family that are strangers.

We have memories with strangers.

Family is a thing of the past.

 

I have a family on my branch of the tree - but the feelings of being part of where I came from now seems foreign to me - it has been so long.

My memories of family are tainted by my denial and the abuse.  It isn't even a normal family.  But, I felt that I belonged. I was part of - there was a connection.

Perhaps another mind game. For in the end the strength of my relationships were very weak. Broken with ease.

That too is shocking - in how quickly my family relationships crumbled - without a fight.

They'd say I didn't fight.

I'd say they didn't fight.

It was like our relationship was a tiny string not worth fighting for.

 

So as we sit at the eve of Father's Day - I have nothing when I search for father feelings. It was like I thought I had a dad, but it was just a mask hiding what was really beneath.

There are no holidays for masks.

 

It is almost as if, all I got left with was a pile of masks. 

Family relationships now appear fake - no substance to them, nothing worth fighting for.

I know there is a little girl inside of me - wishing it was different.

Wishing for the masks - yet knowing they are not real.

 

Estrangement is an odd place to live in. You long for what is not there. What was never there. 

 

What I also know, is that grief of losing your family origin - isn't made up for with having your own family.  It is a loss.  And in my case a huge loss - there are 14 of us plus parents.   And the extended families that flow from each - and each again.  The older I get the bigger the family grows - more strangers called family.

 

Yet sitting here. I am grateful.

I am at peace.

While my mind chews - and spins.  Not as often as before - but it does come back.  Again when family holidays present themselves.  We all automatically go to our family, our dad.... back to the complicated mess.

 

I can turn and refocus. And celebrate the real men who are fathers. Who love, care, an protect their child. Men worth celebrating and honoring.

If you have/had a loving father - I wonder how that feels in your heart?

To look back fondly on your history....

 

It is like I am afloat - looking toward the future - the past was too fake to keep.

I am grateful to witness my husband as a kind loving dad and grandpa.

My son-in-law a kind and loving dad.

It isn't the same as looking back longingly over years worth of history of loving a dad - 

But I can celebrate fathers on my branch of the family tree 

 

Our Family Legacy.

 

I didn't fully understand the trauma response, until I witnessed the opposite of it.  

When I was a mother of young children, I didn't even have this language or the awareness that what I was doing had a name. And more, that it was possible to course correct.

 

Actually I didn't even know I was traumatized by having been sexually abused - and this crippled me to responding in healthy ways.

When a child of mine was out of control - I would rise higher. Speak louder - okay yell. 

I fought to gain control by becoming bigger, louder, more violent than the out of control child. Fighting fire with a larger fire.

 

This wasn't unusual behavior - I had witnessed my mother's rages - or her stone cold silences - both trauma responses.

Mothering with trauma responding - leaves a child without the loving kindness of a mother.

 

This is where the lack of love and warmness enters into my relationship with my mother.

She wasn't capable of giving loving responses.

 

And I mirrored her.

 

It wasn't until I broke free of my denial and addressed and dealt with my childhood wounds and mothered myself with loving responses - could I then feel and give love to my children.

 

The difference between a loving response and a trauma response is like breathing and not breathing. 

 

One the child feels seen and heard - and safe.  

 

I am not even sure I can correctly articulate the feelings of the opposite - even though I lived it as a child and also handed it out as a mother.

 

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

 

I was unaware that I was unloving.

 

I know this sounds insane.

 

It wasn't until I loved myself - could I love my child - and know what love is.

 

I loved my wounded self.

This alone trumped the trauma response.

 

Or maybe it ended it.

 

Maybe you can't have a trauma response IF you love yourself.

 

I witnessed my daughter respond as a loving mom - not with the trauma response.

It was the opposite way from my old mothering ways.  I recognized her kindness - and how kind it was for her child.

 

This.

This is the legacy I was striving to change.

 

It wasn't easy for her - she is my child - she didn't experience this as a child.  

She was breaking the cycle.

What a great gift she is giving her small child. 

 

My ultimate hope was that I could end the cycle of abuse - by changing my own responses so many years ago.  That if I could do different - then generations after me - would be spared.

 

Choosing love to respond isn't always easy.  Often it is the harder choice.  The one that takes most effort and requires hard work.  

 

Whether trauma responds or love responds - both will have consequences - but only one will have positive influences upon the child.

 

Trauma responses wound a child.

 

I knew that my behaviors, my awareness - and even my denial and trauma responses - critically affected my children.  Once I became aware - and broke free of denial - all my choices were made with them in mind.

 

Once I saw - I couldn't unsee.

 

Each decision I made either would influence my legacy positively or negatively.  The generations behind me would reap what I sowed.

 

Seeing my daughter mother differently - shows the pattern changing.

It both was both exhilarating and sorrowful.

Knowing she had to also change the pattern in her world.

 

Perhaps the pattern I set in place - was that it was possible.

My legacy is that we can change the patterns we were born into.

All my sorrows and pain of being estranged has not all been for naught.

Seeing the generation below me have awareness and mother with love - was my end game.

My heart weeps knowing what was possible for me - is possible for generations after.

There is nothing sweeter than seeing the patterns changing into loving kindness.

The difference for a child - is knowing love.

 

The trauma response will still arise in me - but I now also have the choice of a loving response.  And, it is typically the harder choice to take.

Loving requires doing what honors you and the other - and truth.

 

I am just so grateful we have both choices alive in our family legacy.

I Hold You in My Heart

I watched Michele Obama being interviewed about her latest book "The Light We Carry" with Oprah and they talked about Michele's friends.  The ones she calls her Kitchen Table.

 

The Kitchen Table has a relaxed image - one where we don't have to put on aires. We can be ourselves in this group.  In fact, we feel at home with them and our truth is honored.

 

These friends are found along our journey of life.  We carry them with us, as we grow, evolve and face some of life's darkest moments and celebrate with us our achievements and joys.

 

As I sit here today, I am reminded of the girls who have been with me.

Watched me grow and change and lead a life that some can't understand.

 

Not all my friends have continued on with me. Some found my table to hard to sit at - my truths too upsetting to their beliefs.  My voice spoke of things they need kept silent. 

 

There have been times in my life my table was crowded - and other times many empty chairs. 

 

I have a friend from my middle school days - we had years of silence and now we are reconnected.  We both had life experiences that changed us - and yet we still fit together. I treasure our friendship and how she holds so much of my history and embraces my new self.  A friendship that can hold changes feels good to me.

 

When my kids were little, another mom with young kids and I connected. She wasn't from the church I was in at the time. We felt at home with each other - we clicked.   When she moved away, we lost touch for awhile - and now when life throws us a curve ball - the other catches it. She gets me and has loved me unconditionally and I her.

 

I found a friend at one of my jobs who was the best thing that came from working there.  A sister friend is how she feels.  We can share our lives with each other and there is no shame or critical eye. Just an open space to sort out life.  We too had moments in life where our lives were busy and perhaps we didn't need the counseling space - and then other times we talked daily.

 

I have found friends during their time of need and I felt my history of loss would be helpful - and over time we have bonded deeply.  Sisters who have shared darkness and found hope. Sisters who travel down pathways each never saw coming. We have deep heart connections.  And, we walked each other towards the light - found hope in the hopeless and joy we didn't think possible. We have witnessed each others growth and success of thriving after heartache.

 

I love that some of my Kitchen Table friends have encouraged me to be an adventure girl- I have wonderful women who enjoy the outside. These ladies have grown me. I am different with a garage full of gear that I use in different seasons.  Some are badass and make me feel kinda badass myself. Being outside and challenging myself has helped my self-esteem.

 

I have artist friends who are great cheerleaders and sounding blocks. Some have been with me from my very early years.  Sharing your art is sharing your soul.  These are brave vulnerable souls.  

 

I look back at some of the friends I had from the church - wistfully.  We shared the common belief system - and were comrades of sorts - with similar foes.  I have lost some that still hurt my heart - our common ground slipped away.

 

At one time, I thought wrongly - that I didn't need new friends - that I was too old to start making new ones.  

 

What a mistake that would have been.  I continue to meet women who I click with and we are in the early stages of friendship.  We can't know where we go, what we do and how long we share our lives together.

The best part about my kitchen table - we can laugh, cry and be silly. We can share our hopes, our dreams and our deepest fears. We can work out life's difficult questions and debate our differences.  

The differences in my friends help me to see life from so many aspects. Views I couldn't have reached on my own.

 

Being away from my family of origin left me with quite a hole.  These friendship over the past few decades have filled so much emptiness. They opened their arms and hearts to me.

 

One of my oldest friends recently told me that families are not as advertised.

I sat with that awhile and found she was on to something.

 

Friendships and who sits at the Kitchen Table with us is so much different. We decide who is worthy of our time and truths - who come in carrying the fullness of who they are.

My Kitchen Table is much more welcoming as I age - or maybe because I am religionless - but I love the beauty of uniqueness - I love strength of character; I love characters!  

My Kitchen Table has empty chairs and is ever expanding in size - I look forward to the new ones I have yet to meet.

And my kitchen door works both ways. I do understand how some had to leave and more could do so in the future. I part in peace.  I know we lasted our season and reason. Not all are meant to be life long friends.

 

I love my Kitchen Table friends for being who they are, and for making me a better Me. My heart is full when I think of you all.

I hold you in my heart.

Dance Party!

What you don't know.

Yesterday a woman who had great influence in my life turned 90.  I did not celebrate.

This woman began programming me as a young child.

Both in religious ways and codependent dysfunctional ways.

She created the daughter she needed and I dutifully followed her lead.

 

As a child I looked up to her and I believed she was a woman of substance and had high morals and good values. I believed she stood against things that were wrong.

 

I grew up to imitate her.

 

Looking back on it now - I was her - in that my life was dictated by a strict religion and my body was owned by the church. My mind was controlled by its programming and my spirit or soul lived silently in the shadows.

 

Nineteen years ago I woke up to a reality that was nothing like our minds believed.

She wasn't of woman of substance of high morals and values and neither was I.

 

Reality was her husband was a pedophile and had abused me and many others. She knew and forgave him of his sins.

My reality held a father who abused me.

My reality was my mother lacked morals and values - she didn't stand up for the child.

 

Somehow reality leaked into my mind - while hers remained untouched.

 

This break in my mind caused us to be on opposite sides. I never found a spot where we could stand and see somewhat eye to eye.  Her mental mind and my open one had nothing in common.

 

Her remaining in the program or mental mind a few steps removed from reality - allowed me to see who I had been  - how it is to be in denial.

I had someone to look at to see how mental my mind was.

Once I knew my mind couldn't be trusted, I began challenging it on every level.

And reality became my new religion. I trusted what was.

 

There was a space between my mental mind and me.

That space grew each time I challenged the mind and found it lacking truth and matching reality.

 

Unless you have been brainwashed and then regained your faculties, you will not understand.

 

The contrasts between living a life as a member of strict religious cult and being free- is quite vast. There are no common denominators. No space where we could share overlapping realities.

 

She had a husband.

I had a pedophile.

 

She had a religion with morals and values.

I had a religion who blessed pedophiles of their sins.

 

She lived as a programmed mind.

I was working to free myself from mine.

 

I began making new choices and trying to rectify the past. More, doing today what I wasn't able to do as a child. Standing up and against abuse.

Regardless who I had to stand up against. 

And making choices with different consequences.

Losing much of what I had - in order to give my children a chance at a different legacy.

 

Nineteen years ago was our last conversation in person. The last time I was in a face to face conversation. 

 

I didn't see a woman there that inspired me.

There was no heart connection.

No warm feelings.

 

Even worse than empty.

She was a mental mind with a body.

 

Blind to reality.

Blind to me.

 

She can only see me when I am compliant with the program.

I know the strength of her mind and I fear its ruthlessness.

 

So what do I do on her birthday. 

A day others celebrate.

Mostly it reminds me of her - and all I lost.

These old family milestones - bring into my reality - the longings for family.

 

Being estranged complicates grief and even the normal family joys.

I am part of - yet apart from.

 

I have a history that is mostly lies.

My fondest memories are tarnished.

I long for the family my mental mind created.

Yet knowing it doesn't exist.

 

She's 90 now.

I didn't celebrate or acknowledge this day to her.

I wasn't even going to here on the blog.

Yet these thoughts and feelings bother me, until I write them out.

 

I am thinking this 90 milestone and the almost 20 years of estrangement has diminished my volume of hope.  

In my early years of being estranged and setting boundaries - a part of me believed that there was hope, that if I could leave the programmed mind, so too could others. 

 

The hope is barely a flicker now - just a spark that ignites for a bit.

 

While many take for granted the family that stands behind them - the familiar shared experiences and memories that create family.  I am very much aware of its absence.

 

This.

 

This is why so many others don't walk way from abusive families. The loneliness and heartache you feel - even if the families you love were all in your mind. They were family.

 

It does feel like a phantom arm - a part of me - that isn't there.

 

My healing and focus began with being authentic and truthful with myself and reality. I began from where I woke up.  Intensely looking at my life, my choices, what my voice was used for, who I stood with and why, or who I stood against and why, what were my morals and values, where they truthful, what is love, what is not love, what brings me joy, what do I feel, what do I not feel - an endless searching for answers.  Answers that became the new me.

The task seemed endless and overwhelming.

To take a mental mind and use it to challenge itself and make choices outside of the program.

 

And in doing so, you go against family.

 

She is 90 and I am 64 - her child.

The child who has nothing to do with her.

 

Not even on her 90th birthday.

 

Some will see me as the bad person here.

Some will celebrate her.

 

I stood by the truth of our estrangement and honored it by doing nothing.

Again.

 

 

This is our relationship now - Estranged - no connection between mother and child.

 

The feelings of being lovingly cared for by a parent feels alien.  

A feeling I have never felt.

 

You cannot celebrate what you don't know.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Back Home

We had been to the Badlands when our kids were little. We both remember them climbing over these ball like formations. We never did see what we remembered. The new rules prohibit wandering off the trails.

There were a few small hikes/trails to see a better view.

We saw big horn sheep, mule deer, prairie dogs and buffalo here.

And more snow.

Enough snow to show some cool contrasts.

What a wonder nature is.

These trees are Juniper Trees.  The birds eat the berries and drop their seeds and are responsible for planting more trees in these canyons.

I LOVE the fragrance from these Juniper tree.  Arches National Park also had the Juniper trees.

My new favorite.

These are the berries.

I was happy going on all the short little hikes to look over the canyons.  

Most of the National parks had really nice trails.

I didn't notice these signs until my husband pointed them. Often I would go on the trail and he would read the signs - about the history etc.

I love that these guys were just enjoying the sun and relaxing in it.

Beauty in their ragged uniqueness.

And I loved these bare wild trees.  My husband thought they were dead. I hope they sprout leaves this summer. I have no idea what sorta trees they are - but they had character.

Mule deer not caring about the vehicles that drive slowly by.

 

This was our last spot of interest. After this there were many miles of fields - mostly free of snow. We didn't hit snow on the side of the road until Minneapolis.  And of course more trees the further north you go.

We did 5 national parks, a couple of state parks and 6 states.  Next time I will research the area we are heading to a little better.  Find out fun places of interests and see when they open.  

All in all we had a wonderful time and it was good to step out of "waiting for spring". 

We returned to Spring in full download.

While it is good to go, it is always wonderful to be back home. 

 

 

Miles Closer to home.

We traveled down so many beautiful roads and loved seeing what was around each bend.

By the time we made it home, we had traveled almost 5,000 miles.  That seems unreal to me.  And, I didn't drive once.  My husband prefers to drive and I navigate with an old fashion road atlas on my lap. 

We also use the phone and car navigation.  I can't imagine now how we did it with just road maps.  But we like to have the atlas with us to see what is in the area etc.

We spotted wild life right away - as we started down Needles Highway.  As you can see there was snow there too - and the road was closed 6 miles from the fun part - where there are tunnels.  

Lots of cars were driving around - and we all would have liked to have the road open. I believe it was weeks away from being open.  

However the wildlife loop was open so we drove around.

Still the Jackasses mooching from cars.

Just fun to see different animals.

"Custer State Park in the beautiful Black Hills of western South Dakota is full of lush forests, quiet and serene meadows, and majestic mountains. This 71,000-acre state park is also home to over a thousand bison—one of the world's largest publicly owned bison herds."

From here we headed towards the badlands - and miles closer to home.