IMPERFECT Lady

Carry in your soul.

We sang last night.

In an end of life home.

Where their options seem to be running out.

A woman there, was shiny.

With a hat of color and lights.

A smile that was huge.

Eyes that danced with delight.

Personality bright.

Alive.

And she had our Tune.

She sang with us - until her air ran out and she needed to return to her room.

She sang the verses she knew and hummed the rest.

She had spirit.

We didn't know each other, but we joined in the spirit of song.

Memories

Childhood

Christmas

We didn't carry tunes very well, but we did carry joy, love, and peace.

We carried caring.

It didn't matter, that we were a small out of tune, didn't know the words, choir.

What mattered is we arrived.

We sang.

 

When we arrived, our group had shrunk, what was to have been six, was down to three and a little.

We thought, well we can sing a few and call it a night.

But, the folks were waiting.

Eagerly 

For carolers.

Us.

Some, who weren't as bright as our Tuner, sang along, moving their lips, or tapping their foot.  Or, watched.  A gentleman wanted his picture taken with us too, he asked, "Can I be in the picture too."

We sang out of tune, we sang from our hearts, we sang to give the christmas spirit.

In a place, where death lives close.

And, we found life.

joy

happiness

peace

Perhaps when the options run out, you are left with the elements of life that are most meaningful.

Your spirit.

As I looked upon our short time with our Tuner, I want to be her.

I want to wear a hat of lights and color and sing the verses I can and hum the rest.

I want to live lively to the end.

I want to join the group who's singing.

I want to sing, until I run out of breath!

I love this group of carolers!

It is not how you sing, it is what you carry in your soul.

 

 

 

Here

I am 14 going on 60.

On December 4, 2004 I woke up and it began a journey of becoming Me.

When looking upon the two very different lives I have lived, I can hardly see the one who lived the longest.  The latest me, is much clearer and I feel so much more connected to her.

She is very much self made.

Whereas the early version was created by survival, cult-like religion and beliefs about herself and the world that were very limiting and small.

I have judged both of them, by how they were treated by my family of origin.

I judged the latest Me, by how my brother walked away.

Perhaps not the woman herself, but her actions.

Was it all a waste?

Have I wasted a lifetime, when in the end, relationships end?

 

Rob Bell, in his latest podcast spoke about waste.

That we tend to see the worthiness of something, IF we get the outcome we intended.

Like, I would be a worthy daughter, and sister, IF my family treated me as such.

Instead of sitting with what I gave.

Was what I gave a waste?

Did I give something that was wasteful?

 

My recollection of my giving, was most often the best of me.

I gave to fill lacks.

I gave until there was no more to give.

Often, I gave too much, cared too much, loved too much.

But, is that a waste?

 

I gave of my art, I gave of my time, I gave of my wisdom, my experience, my truths, my intimate emotions, my integrity, when I found it myself.

How can these be wasteful things?

I used to say, I wish I had been an asshole, that I hadn't cared so much, and given so much, that in the end, it didn't matter. In the end, I was left without a family. That I was left with a broken heart and a confused mind. 

I too, believed, that If I gave I would receive.

Something of worth equal to what I had given.

When I am left standing alone outside of my family, I judged me by their actions.

I wasn't worthy, I hadn't given the right stuff, the right way, at the right time. It was all a wasted effort.

They get to be the defining factor of whether I am a waste or not.

It is hard not to feel wasteful when you are tossed aside, in a moment, after all you have given, it seems such a careless ending.

How can you be so casually tossed aside, IF you were worth more.

 

There are two sides of the estrangement.

What I gave and how they valued it and me.

 

I used to value how they seen me. I used feel more loving and kinder depending upon how they treated me.

 

Now, I see clearly, what I gave of me, is what matters.

I didn't withhold.

I didn't water down my caring.

I didn't give waste.

I wasn't a waste.

 

It wasn't all for naught.

What I gave was sacred, the essence of me.

And, you can't waste being yourself.

 

They can value it or not, and that doesn't change who I am.

This is another huge vein into my self esteem, that I have unplugged or cleared up.

 

My value comes from knowing what I give.

 

Another part of Rob's podcast spoke about "here".  When you are confused by how others react or respond, and when you feel the injustice of it all, "Here." Give it to the universe to hold.

Here, I give you my relationships that ended so abruptly, or simply faded away.

Many due to my changing. 

Here.

You hold them.

I can't know why or how or whatever.

Most often, I am left with silence, space and rejection.

Here.

I know what I gave, and it wasn't a waste.

Here

You carry their response, I will carry what I gave.

Here

 

 

 

 

 

In Reality

Can you describe your life in one sentence, or are you a paragraph?  I heard this on a podcast, Soul Series. It is an interesting thought. What sentence are you living? What is the content of your life?

My sentence structure, would consist of awareness, free empowerment, change, legacy, love of self, art, women...  I will have to work on seeing how I can fit how I exist into a sentence.

 

Another thought from a podcast was, "People are not bad, Beliefs are."

Just sit with that thought.

 

My life changed, when I changed my beliefs.

I was seen differently, and I seen the world differently, when I changed what I believed.

When I left my religion, it was all in my head. I no longer believed as they all believed. The old beliefs were now unbelievable to me.

When I left my family, it was all done in my head, I no longer believed as they did.

I wasn't bad, but my new beliefs were not accepted.

Nor, could I relate to the old beliefs anymore. We were no longer able to relate to each other. I wonder if that is the real meaning of relationship; the ability to relate to each other.

 

One day, a brother changed his mind about me.

The relationship ended.

He has a new belief about me.

All it takes for a relationship to end, is for one person to change their minds.

Beliefs can make me a good person or a bad person and it has nothing to do with me.

 

We are not born with a set of beliefs, we are taught a set of beliefs.

How our parents believe, influence how they raise us.

What their belief system was, became ours.

It isn't so much who your parents are, but rather how they believed, that grew your mind or stunted it.

 

How we are treated, affects what we believe about ourselves.

If we are treated badly, we often have a lower sense of self -worth.

 

There really are good and bad beliefs, much more than good and bad people.

Our physical bodies are not what is bad, but rather the beliefs in our head.

 "When I believe my thoughts, I suffer." Byron Katie

 

My life became more peaceful when I understood, that most often there is a belief system behind people.  

A system that is leading them, often blindly, to do what they do.

Isn't it Jesus who said, "Forgive them, they know not what they do."?

 

I was led by a belief system for 46 years, without awareness, that I didn't make a conscious choice. My life wasn't mine to lead. It's whole content was driven by beliefs I was taught. 

Fear kept me from even thinking about thinking of anything outside the system. 

My future when I died demanded my compliance to the belief.

And, my knowing I'd be shunned if I dared.

The beliefs, were just the religious ones.  

 

The dysfunctional abusive family beliefs were a whole different string.

They were all designed to deflect reality and make the individual disappear or at very least become irrelevant.

Beliefs that dovetailed with the church, "honor thy mother and thy father" no matter what.

Beliefs that created, voiceless, choice-less, unseen, children that did not matter.

 

It was earth shattering and mind blowing, when I awoke and challenged a mind full of beliefs that were not copacetic with reality.

The beliefs in my head, had literally kept me from being in reality, seeing it, knowing it and believing it. I lived a few feet from my real world, in a land where reality wasn't present.

Beliefs are bad, not people.

I wasn't born narrow minded, I was taught to be.

I wasn't born with negative beliefs about others, I was taught to believe I was better.

I wasn't born believing in hell, or heaven, I was taught about it.

 

Beliefs are given to us, as much as vegetables and milk, and they create a human being who lives peacefully and respectfully or one who is judging and righteously removing equality from others.

My whiteness came with a busload of beliefs that made so many others less than.

My "faith" and its beliefs, had me on the road to heaven, while others were headed to hell.

 

Beliefs matter in times of peace and in times of war.

What you believe matters more than what you do.

Perhaps my sentence is...

"She no longer believed, and from there lived a life of freedom and peaceful love with her self and the rest of the world, in reality."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love and respect.

It has been many years now since I gathered with extended family on my side for the Holidays. 

Years of re-creating a new normal if you will. Striving to put forth a pattern.

Yet, it will take generations before it is complete.  It isn't to be done in my lifetime.

I often feel undone.

Incomplete.

Unsuccessful.

And my goal is.

It is not going to take shape until long after I am gone. And, perhaps my life will not even make sense until generations later.

Often, it barely makes sense to me. All I know, is that something within me is ironclad in feeling, that in order to change the legacy of abuse, I must do things differently.

 

It is like I had to create a new life detached from the family.

Which means, you are separated purposefully.

The purpose being, to choose what sort of family behavior will make up our family.

What are the key components that will allow each being to feel loved, safe and acknowledged.

How will our relationships will weave together, to create an atmosphere of peace, love and acceptance?

What is, or is not, acceptable behavior with each other.

What are we willing to overlook and look around, is there anything, we can't afford not to see and know.

 

Coming from a family where denial was the overlay, I am now seeking to live in transparency.  

Daring to voice the uncomfortable.

Being vulnerable and willing to lose it all, in order to preserve what is real.

Setting the tone of full disclosure of who I am and accepting where I have come from, and how I am learning to live life free from denying Me, in all my forms.

Family legacies are not changed in one lifetime.

It will take generations repeating what I have started.

Or not.

I can only live my life with the truest intentions to eradicate the behavior that supports abuse.

Zero tolerance has been my intentions.

 

It is hard to change from tolerance to intolerance. 

Hard to build boundaries where prior it was free range.

Difficult to be a different you.

 

Lonely too.

 

I often wonder about my path, my lot in life. How it is a privilege and a burden.

 

The distance between my old self and new is now nearing 15 years.

 

That is a long time to be separated and creating a new lifestyle and yet it is very young in the legacy of generations that make up a family.

When I split from the family tree, it was as if I was a seedling starting a new tree.

What I miss is the past matriarchs who would have set the tone for me.

I am singing a song I am making up as I go along.

Music from my heart and soul.

Feeling as I go.

 

My family tree and its traditions love uniqueness, open communication, respect, love that is free, being you and curiosity of life.

It is a work in progress, we don't know how this pattern will design itself.

I am following its lead.

 

I feel ghosts of the old pattern at times, and often get nostalgia for what I thought it was, and sometimes get weary of the solitary feeling of being the trail blazer. While at the same time, feel inspired and grateful for being on my journey of change.

Yet, I know it would be harder to be on the old path for sure. 

For once you know, you can't unknown, you can only pretend to pretend that you didn't see.

 

Thanksgiving to me is to be grateful for the new pattern that is slowly emerging.

I see it in my granddaughter, she gets two generations before her.

Women who are guiding her, by walking in ways of integrity and loving kindness.

I am at peace in knowing my separation from family will matter in the lives of generations beneath me.

The pain and suffering I endured will not be for naught. It will stop the self destroying abuse that was my legacy.  And, give to my grandchildren and their children a pattern that will spread love and kindness.

Love that is free and truthful, real and vulnerable.

We all get to be completely ourselves, a pattern of free expressions and love of self.

On Thanksgiving, I give thanks for walking with people I love and respect.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Without you in it.

In life there are people whose path we cross, that are bright spots.  Whose energy, humor, respect, and friendship add joy to your life.

We didn't see each other often, but when we did, it was always a fun connection.

We met through my speaking out, and Art.

I entered into his space, the helping community.

Unsure, nervous and yet bold.

I had words to say and art to share.

He listened, understood, admired and reached out.

We collaborated, and my Story Line quilts were hung up at Copper Country Mental Health; and still hang there today, about 4 years later.

He got me and my art.

And, I felt seen and heard by him.

He came to most of my speaking events.

He was there when others were not.

It was always so comforting to see his smiling face in the audience.

His kind approval mattered.

He would say he had the honor of being my biggest fan.

It was a mutual club, for I was his too.

We connected over family that were distant to each of us.

He just got it, for it was his experience too.

Our common ground, and mutual love and respect was a comfort for each of us.

I really cannot believe he's gone.

How can this be possible?

When I think of a kind gentle loving funny soul, I think of him.

I am forever grateful to have shared moments on our journeys together.

I don't know where you go when your body passes.

But, wherever you are, I hope you have all the love you gave.

Know that you made a difference in my life.

 

You gave me courage and friendship when I needed them both.

You helped me grow, by seeing a bigger potential than I saw within.

I loved your utter confidence in being simply you.

A you that was you, always.

I will miss you Joseph Freed.

My forever friend.

My buddy.

Oh, Joe.

My world is sadder without you in it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Easy Road

Passive Aggressive behavior was one of the ways I was raised to respond. Instead of facing anything directly, you use a non-verbal reaction that shows your silent disapproval aggressively.  

When someone does this, even today, I am flung backwards into my early years and feel resentment that lingers for days.

And, oddly - I use passive aggressive behavior back. 

My words are silently held in my head - where I have multiple debates that are never spoken out loud.

In the past week this happened. 

One being the discussion about Dr. Ford and the Judge, and then someone turning up the music to drown out the discussion - without using her words.

A double slam.

Is how it felt.

Shutting down the topic, and using a passive aggressive behavior.

And, I was amazed and a little amused - at first.

But, then a weird thing happened - I turned back to my childhood responses.

I followed the silent debate.

And, adhered to miming our feelings.

Instead of speaking about them.

I was silent

She was too loud.

Conversation adverted.

After sitting with the overview, for a few days, I saw how someone can choose not to listen, how you truly have to have a safe and open environment to have a healthy conversation.

Two people caring enough to listen.

That even if one party is open to sharing all kinds of topics, the other person can shut it down.

I was shocked most about being brought back to childhood.

To be almost 60 and feeling like a 'bad' child.

The brushing off of my words felt so disrespectful.

Just how you block your ears and sing or holler as to not hear the other person.

To spare yourself from hearing that which you don't want to hear.

 

I wondered whose lesson this was, and what could I learn?

First it showed me the application of passive aggressive behavior.

How closed it is and almost violent to our feelings.

And, non-evolving.

 

What I learned was how you can literally see a closed ear by how someone behaves.

That words don't have to be explicit.

And, how that makes you feel.

Cast aside as if you didn't matter.

Not you or your thoughts.

 

This one sided selfishly arrogant relationship is familiar to me.

I was raised by a parent who used this behavior to control us.

And, I can see how it works, but how limiting it is.

 

This encounter brought me back to how I used to be.  How I would seethe in silence for days to show my anger. How I would use non-verble messages to portray my feelings.

I didn't have words.

More, I didn't have a secure and trusting understanding of who I was.

 

I was the silent victim - whose words were drowned out.

 

I now see how this worked so well for my mother, and later me.

 

 

Passive aggressive behavior is - I had to look up the real meaning to see if at the end of this rant, I had it correct according to the dictionary.

"Passive–aggressive behavior is characterized by indirect resistance to the demands of others."

and, this

"A Mayo Clinic specialist explains the signs of this indirect way of expressing negative feelings."

and,

"Upbringing: Some suggest that passive-aggressive behavior may stem from being raised in an environment where the direct expression of emotions was discouraged or not allowed. People may feel that they cannot express their real feelings more openly, so they may instead find ways to passively channel their anger or frustration."

and this,

"Taking the easy road: Being assertive and emotionally open is not always easy. When standing up for yourself is difficult or even scary, passive-aggression might seem like an easier way to deal with your emotions without having to confront the source of your anger."

 

All apply to how I was raised. And, why I too chose the path of passive aggressive.

This encounter this week has taught me the code of my childhood.

I can totally see why this was needed in a home with abuse.

"People may feel that they cannot express their real feelings more openly, so they may instead find ways to passively channel their anger or frustration."

This line is particularly poignant to me.  For without your real feelings, can you be real?

I know that this is so true. We do become passive aggressive IF we can't express our real feelings openly.

My intention is to now live fully expressing my feelings. 

And, will have to learn how to do so more effectively with passive aggressive people.

How interesting it is, that taking the "easy road" is to be passive aggressive. For, it truly is harder to be emotionally open and assertive. And, being passive aggressive, You don't have to confront the source of your anger. Which to me is the most meaningful tool used in abusive homes.

Expressing your emotions and sitting with the source of your anger isn't the easy road.

 

 

 

A joyful ride

Sometimes it feels like we are walking in circles, not getting anywhere, either personally or collectively. However, each of us carry a part of the evolution of humanity. We can only push back, IF there is something to push against.

Is it possible, that the struggle to find balance IS what pushes us forward.

Could there be any evolution if we began balanced?

There are times, I would love to insert new knowledge into people - but would be horrified, if that happened to me.

I believe, that each of us are changing and evolving, learning and growing at a pace that suits our souls.

After pondering who we can sort out the truth, I saw this article today.

This Article Won't Change Your Mind

What I love is how this article rings true in my experience.

And, a phrase I love the believe is  "A mind convinced against its will is of the same opinion still."

In life we will all have moments and choices of whether to believe something or not.  It doesn't matter which way you ultimately chose, for you will live with the choice you make.

Your mind will find peace or not, with how you chose to take in new knowledge.

It will either support your beliefs or challenge them. And, then you can either keep your beliefs, or change your mind.

I also, agree that no one but you can change your mind.

This is an inside job and done on your time line.

Nothing we can say, nor any proof to the contrary will change your mind.

I LOVE THIS.

It totally frees us all up to play! 

We are not hear to teach or work to change anyone's mind.

I know, that most often I write to understand my self and my thoughts and even to challenge my beliefs. I write to find peace in my own mind.

In the writing out our fears, angers, frustrations etc, allows the mind to wrestle with what it believes it knows to be true.

Oprah was on to something, when her TV show was about getting what she called Ah Ha's.  Where someone came on and made her look at life differently.

I love this too.

I seek books, podcasts and people who will show me a new view.

Living open to new possibilities.

Mostly, I LOVE that I am free to be Me.  It isn't my job to change your mind.

You and your mind are a team that live together. 

I hope it is a joyful ride.

 

Columbus day is a perfect example of something having two sides - ask the Indigenous people what they think of this day? I like that my phone calendar has both of them listed.

I listened to Krista Tippett's podcast "On Being" with Layli Long Soldier -

On Being Podcast with Layli Long Soldier

History has two sides.

How can it not?

We see and feel life from our side of each experience.

And, we also see history, from the side we were taught.

If there is a war, there will be two sides of the war. And your 'rightness' will be on the side you are on.

We look at our childhoods from our vantage point - our parents traveled through our years differently.

I know my experience, and I recognize that others will have their own perceptions of the world.

Again, this was never been more clear, than speaking out about abuse. Not all can see from your vantage point, but that doesn't negate it. 

What I believe is happening now, is that the silent side is now speaking.

Not just with the latest victim to speak out, but that there is a wave going through our society, where each time a victim speaks, it encourages another to break their silence.

So, we now have two sides of the same history.

Because the sides don't often match, does it mean that one is more true than the other?

And, is it most true if only one side shares their view?

If the silent remain silent, does that effect history?

I was so naive that I didn't even question what we were taught in school about history. We were taught our side of history, the white american side.

Maybe had I attended college, I would be wiser about the history of the world.

In the history of my family, up and until I was 46 years old, I had not heard about sexual abuse. 

This is not unusual. 

This doesn't mean it didn't happen, it just means that the victims were silent.

The #Metoo movement is the side of our history many would rather have silenced.

My history lessons in school about Columbus, didn't mention the view of the native americans. Ever.

It felt kind - leaving that point out.

In order for humanity to evolve, we need all the voices to be heard.

We cannot change what we do not acknowledge.

Today, I celebrate the voices of the Indigenous - who challenge history's account of Columbus Day.

 

 

 

Truth held with Respect.

As a woman, a woman who has survived sexual abuse, I am left wondering how to fit reality into my future. The reality of Dr. Ford's words and how the response was so ineffective.

What does this say to women who speak up?

We have had the rare opportunity on a large stage to see how victims are treated. What is expected from them and how some will treat her.

Society seems to be split in half about whose side they feel drawn to.

And, there doesn't appear to be a middle ground.

In the land of she said, he said, we pick the side that feels right to us.

I can't know what the he said side feels like.

I am not drawn to his words.

Hers, had echoes of mine.

Is it because I was abused too?

How do we find a reasonable response to an unreasonable outcome?

How do I accept that this sort of treatment goes on, on a larger stage, with supposedly intelligent folks?

That women are still not heard for the truth they carry. That many still fear the "false reporting" as if it was the majority.

Women who dare to unload their burden of abuse, certainly don't need to be dragged down the road that Dr. Ford traveled.

What I do know, is that that road makes you a badass, if you can survive and rise above the folks who are looking to dismiss and make you feel your truth is worthless.

I thought, that my family, the religion I belonged to, were too dysfunctional to be aware of how truth felt. 

And, to be fair, they seen the truth, but responded in different ways. In ways that preserved the life they had, the faith they had, the reality they loved and controlled.

It makes me wonder about the people in Dr. Ford's case.

How is it possible for a judge to not recognize her truth or even his?

Is truth black and white in reality?

Is it either the truth or it is not.

How simple is all of this, really?

While it appears to be complicated, where folks will rush to the reputation and side of the alleged abuser, and put up guards against 'false' reporting, is it really simple.

Who makes it complicated?

And, who strives for the simple clear way.

What is the responsibility of the folks on the sidelines?

In my experience, when I woke up to the fact of my abuse, it sure would have been nice to have folks who could clearly show you the way. Here is the reality of the land, here is the truth and here is the untruth.

What I found instead, were many people who were living life, with many more shades of grey than black and white. Whose lives were littered with the untruths of their life.

This may seem odd.

But, think about it.

How many people do you know, who are not happy in their lives, but act like they are?

Who may not like their family, but spend time with them?

Or, married folks who are not living married lives.

And, this isn't just true for people, but also institutions.

Like my old church.

How many churches are living the truth of their faith, or actually, how many of their church members, live lives of their faith?

In the case of the Catholic church, lies are falling from the priests like rain showers.

So, when a victim speaks up, who are the honest ones who will hear?

Are there not many more folks living lies, who don't even recognize the truth or are too afraid of what your truth will mean to their lives?

Doesn't it kinda makes sense, that those living lies, are afraid of their own truths being found out? They are defensive of the facade, for they themselves live behind one?

What I know to be true, in my experience, is that my truth wasn't well received.

In fact, it was easier to put space between them and myself.

There were a variety of reasons to do so.

Often, silence took its place.

Distance.

And, in the beginning I took it personal.

I was extremely sensitive to how others treated me.

That I was somehow to blame.

If only I had been kinder with my truth, perhaps more gentle and articulate. If only I had tried harder to be clearer and maybe less traumatized. Less mental after discovering my life was completely upside down from the truth of what was.

What I have learned is that it wasn't me, my words, my evidence - or the lack thereof, etc etc.  It wasn't about me.

Each person gets to decide how they will respond when a victim speaks.

We all have free will as to which side we side up to.

What my mind didn't expect was to see such appalling treatment done to a victim who had the courage to speak her truth. I know, there will be some who want to sit in the false reporting, but I am going to go with her.

I can no more explain the other side today, than I could years ago with my father.

Something inside of me, is drawn to her.

And, not the judge.

I am wondering, if the same can be true for them?

Perhaps they too can't help it.

It isn't a choice for them, any more than it is a choice for me.

It isn't about the mind at all, but the subconscious feelings.

Is it fear?

Fear of the truth, or fear of false reporting?

Interesting.

I am not moving in fear.

I am moving towards an empowered woman.

Courage.

Bravery.

Vulnerable.

I am not sure I move because of fear anymore.

I use to.

I was fear driven.

Fear of not being liked, going to heaven, sinning, of not being a good daughter, a good sister, a friend.

Now, I strive to just be me.

And listen to my body, my gut, my feelings.

I can't know why others move differently.

I try to keep my reality free of pretend things.

Inside as well as outside.

I can no longer pretend to pretend to pretend.

If it doesn't feel right, it can't be part of my world, nor can I support it.

It may be age, but mostly, it is once I embraced my whole truth, the good, the bad and the very ugly, I can't abide by less.

I accept what is, even if in doing so, my whole world falls apart.

I feel that Dr. Ford, is just another thing to add to my reality. The juxtaposition between her truth and the outcome she had to face. She is the very example of why the percentage of false reporting. Who would willingly sign up for the treatment she has received?

While my mind is more at rest now, knowing that we live in a world where many live a few steps from their truth, it will look messy. It will act messy. And, we can't expect truth from many who live lives of untruth.

It is my hope that truth wins, only but 100% of the time.

And, if my truth is wrong, I will surely know.

I live my life seeking the truth, no matter how it appears. And, I ask for the truth to be shown to me, always.

Today in my art, I was drawn to black and white.  I wanted simplicity in my backgrounds.

The movement is bright - it's hope.

Hope that one day, victims will be well received and their truth held with respect.

 

I Believe Her

This past week, I listened and watched Dr. Christine Blasey Ford speak.  I admire the courage it took to speak.  As she said, she was the one lone voice against many.

I was surprised by my response to her speaking.

It brought back my own memories of speaking against the common view.

I then watched a Facebook video of Martha Beck, where she spoke about "Sanctuary Trauma".  Where you are speaking about your trauma and you are doubted and made to feel shame and even thought a liar.

This is where I connected to Dr Ford.

I could feel the terrifying place she stood, speaking her truth, and having to deal with many who would doubt her story.

I am not sure I can once again articulate what this feels like.

To say words that others don't want to hear. And, instead of feeling their own disappointment, make you feel less for speaking it.

The trauma of sexual abuse changes who you are and then, when you are brave enough to speak of it, we are then made to feel less than for doing so. Not brave, but they have other words for us.  Other feelings. You are not embraced and cared for, you are made to feel shame for speaking out.

It is to show your deepest wound and they barely cast a sideways glance and move on as if it isn't even there.

I love that Martha Beck too was triggered and unable to watch much of it. For it shows I am not the mental one.

I love that I now have a term to use and understand what this feeling is. 

Sanctuary Trauma. 

Instead of the sanctuary of understanding, our sanctuary place is one of trauma.

The worst part of being abused by a family member, is that the family then turns on you for speaking out.

In the beginning, I was hollered at, and ridiculed when sharing my truth. Sanctuary Trauma.

I felt like a scared rabbit and recall not knowing who was friend or foe.

I was being traumatized for speaking out.

Unless and until, you have the courage to speak out of your own sexual abuse, naming the perpetrator, and doing so with those who like/love him, will you understand this.

The volume of doubt and anger that is directed at you is mind blowing.

We did nothing to warrant this anger, we are merely the messengers, sharing another view of those you like/love.

We did not do the crime.

We are reporting the crime and are victims of the person you like/love.

And, we then are traumatized by you, because you can't bear the truth.

Here that.

You traumatize the messenger for giving you a truth you can't bear to hear.

It will not change the truth.

Just as the judge will not become a gentleman, anymore than my perpetrator return to being just a kind dad.

And, beating me up with words, doubts and coldness will not make it so.

The Sanctuary Trauma is why I felt so jittery for her and it brought me back to my early days.

She was in the midst of sanctuary trauma as we all watched.

To speak up knowing you will be doubted, shamed and made to feel a liar IS why so few sexual assault victims come forth.  It is the fear and knowing of sanctuary trauma we don't want to endure.

To be re-victimized for sharing our original assault.

We blame the victim for the words she is sharing about someone we like/love.

Instead of looking at our own disappointment, feeling the relationship shatter, it is much easier to cast us aside as liars.

Looking at the arena that Dr. Ford is in, she is having volumes of people NOT want their person be wrong and they themselves be lacking, it is much easier to poke holes in her story than to see the wrong in themselves.

Who wants to be wrong?

Who is brave enough to admit it?

They would rather traumatize a woman they don't know or like as much, to keep their own version of the truth. To keep their agenda going in the direction that makes them most comfortable.

What I learned the most with my own sanctuary trauma is that very few want to embrace the truth. Most want their version of life to continue on, minus the truth of what is.

And, I know now, the words said to me, were words they really meant for themselves.

I thank her for showing humanity what courage is, and that no matter how you articulate the words, if they are words they don't want to hear, they will turn on you.

Victims know this.

This is the huge wall we are asked to climb, while being hit from all sides for speaking out.

Most, will not offer a word against the smallest of things.  Fear disagreement.

Won't even utter a word against the majority on small things.

Sanctuary trauma is perhaps the toughest arena to be in.

You are knowingly speaking out against their opinion of someone that is important to them. You are casting the shadow upon their otherwise good character.

But really?

Is it possible to be a good man and an abuser?

In 14 years, I have never been able to find the common denominator between father and pedophile. 

Is it possible to have a good supreme court judge who assaults women???

It just doesn't go together.

I believe her.

Because I know the cost for her speaking up. It is a personal cost. A very vulnerable cost. 

I believe her.