IMPERFECT Lady

Riding on Scary Tires.

Being a Mail Lady you need a car underneath you that will complete the route and make the ride enjoyable at the same time.

 

Yesterday my ‘new’ mail car ended the day on only half of its power; my mechanic husband said it was only running on half of its cylinders.

 

It had trouble standing idle, but did fairly well going down the highway.  There is a definite problem that he will work on today.

 

My Caddy mail car has bald tires, but out of the two seems to be the better bet.  It runs fine, has an awesome satellite radio, and who really knows how many miles are left on the tires!

 

If we could combine the best of the two we would have one awesome mail car!  

 

All any of us can do is just head out and see what happens along the way.  No point getting all worked up about it, the tires will either make it or not. 

 

There really isn’t a third option today, for the tires will be replaced next Tuesday and not a moment sooner.  The sparkplugs or coil or some such thing will be replaced later today, life just goes along in a sequence that we don’t design.

 

Perfect for Happy Halloween, riding on scary tires!

 

 

Peace is our birthright.

There is a dueling going on, two sides meeting each other in conflict.

 

I feel my brother’s great resistance to stepping into a new arena, one that should strengthen his speaking abilities and make him more comfortable with himself.

 

I am not suggesting, (and in fact this wasn’t my idea in the first place but his to join Toastmasters,) that he join a group that will take away his self esteem, to tear down and rip apart who he is, but you would think so.

 

It is not a group that weakens your sense of self, but instead empowers your abilities to think on your feet.

 

Now here is what is even a more odd, he already can speak well on his feet, he gives speeches in his work to small groups of 20 or so, and he is a salesman doing an awesome job.

 

So, I am surprised as he is, that Toastmasters brought up this fear.

 

I read their intent, and it is to make you a better communicator and leader.

 

My brother already leads his own branch office, and he as I said can communicate well, so perhaps this isn’t what he needs. 

 

His work is his area of expertise, and perhaps what they are asking is for you to be your self, an area that is right now under construction for him.

 

He can no longer define himself from a past that has just been revealed as trauma filled, and he isn’t fully whole, so he is in the land between, where he is still discovering who he is.

 

I bet if he went in there as a half built man he would blow them away with his insights. 

 

It is not up to me to strong-arm him into going, I am just so puzzled as to his resistance.

 

When we talked last he said that he would prefer to go back to some of his unsavory past places than to attempt entering into this environment.

 

To me this is a trigger talking that wants to stay the same.

 

How often is it that abused women go back to the man who harms her, she feels safer with a fear she knows, than with a new fear.

 

I am wondering if this is the same with him!

 

He may be at another cross roads a fork in the road where he has to again decide which road to take.

 

We have to let go of who we are to become who we want to be….I believe Einstein said.

 

It is harder to let go than it is to grab on.

 

Letting go of an old fear definition is like parting with a limb.

It is who we are.

 

I suggested to him to walk backwards into places he ‘used to feel comfortable in’ and explore what was really going on there.

 

What he did and what was done to him.

 

When I really had to look closely at what my parents did to me, and then what I allowed to be done to me, I was able to see where I had it all wrong.

 

So maybe Toastmasters is not where he will find his answers, instead if he goes back to the places that are not good, but he felt good at, he can see what is upside down.

 

This is not an easy task to readjust your readings on fear, or to readjust your readings on love.

 

For what we love we should fear and what we fear we should love.

 

Toastmasters is only half of the problem, the other half, the opposite is where he may find the key.

 

He lost himself back there, he sold himself back there, he allowed others to victimize him self back there, maybe the answer is to see yourself being less then who you are.

 

I was mortified and horrified in my lack of caring for me, the ways that I never saw me in the picture.  I am wondering if he would see the same.

 

See your self without your self.

How often are we silent for the other?

How often do we do this or that for the other?

To see your self whoring your self for others pleasure is an awful thing to see.  I have said that I was a whore for love and peace, and I still stand by that today.

 

I allowed myself to be less for the peace and love from others.

 

No more.

 

May he find the place that steals him, may he find the leak in his life where he loses his sense of self, where his power drips away.

 

It is just one more hole in a damaged psyche that is seeking repairs.  The fear is a signal that something has power over you. 

 

As Bikram says, “If anyone can steal your peace, you are the loser.”

 

Peace is our birthright.

Control of our Selves.

FEAR;

-feeling of anxiety: an unpleasant feeling of anxiety or apprehension caused by the presence or anticipation of danger.- frightening thought: an idea, thought, or other entity that causes feelings of fear- reverence: respect or awe for somebody or something.

TERROR;

 

the use of violence and threats to intimidate or coerce, esp. for political purposes.
2. the state of fear and submission produced by terrorism or terrorization.
3. a terroristic method of governing or of resisting a government

 

My brother and I had a discussion on whether he should have to do something that he fears or is the fear a way of telling him, not to continue.

 

There seems to be two kinds of fears, one where there is danger and the other that has you feeling as if danger is present.

 

I remember reading Fear is False Events Appearing Real.

 

How do you know if your body’s signaling a false event or a real threat?  Is it possible that our bodies are protecting us falsely?

 

Are there fears that you should not attempt to conquer and are there fears that keep you feeling less empowered and they should be faced, and how can you discern what is what?

 

Feelings of terror seem to be fear and submission or being coerced to do something you don’t want to do.

 

That is interesting, being forced to do something you don’t want to do.

 

Isn’t that the nuts and bolts of being abused, especially sexually?  Would it then make sense that our ‘terror’ button has been activated at a very young age? 

 

Now even as a big adult, when we get into situations we can’t control, we feel the imbalance and fear arises, and our terror button goes into overdrive.

 

Due to the fact of undeniable trauma in early childhood we have an unreasonable relationship with fear and terror.  We bring into each new experience the unfounded terror or maybe misplaced fear.

 

What is unfounded terror? What is misplaced fear?

Or maybe what is more real is that our perceptions have us believing we will lose our power and control.

 

It is very terrifying to be placed in a spot where you have no power.

 

What does that mean to be powerless?  Does that mean controlling others and all situations?  Is that possible?

 

What is the difference between surrender and submission?

 

Submission; The act of submitting to the power of another.

 

Surrender; To give up in favor of another. 3. To give up or give back (something that has been granted): surrender a contractual right. 4. To give up or abandon: surrender all hope. 5. To give over or resign (oneself) to something, as to an emotion: surrendered himself to grief.

 

It seems that submission is giving your power to another.

Surrender is to give up in favor of another, to surrender all hope stands out to me.   What comes to mind is Martha Beck’s quote, “Forgiveness is accepting that the past will not change.”

 

I surrendered to the past, I did not become submissive and a let the past have power over me.

 

There seems to be a fear and terror that rules my brother, that stands in front of realities that appear harmless, yet to him feel harmful.

 

How can you correct or right yourself if you have terror of ‘normal’ things and then not fear what most do?

 

Is it possible to be a victim with power?

That seems like an oxymoron.

 

Either you have power or you become victim to situations that you fear.

 

What came to mind is how women become prostitutes.  It seems that we will control ourselves to be controlled.

 

Does that make sense to anyone but me?

 

It is like talking yourself into be powerless and being ok or powerful in the mode of powerless.

 

Do you all recall seeing the faces of the women in the Religious Cult, and how they stated, “we are free to leave, but we choose not to.”

 

Who but themselves believe that? 

 

I recall feeling so shaky and inept to take the wheel of my mind, to be the only one standing there making choices.  No one or nothing stood between my reality and me.

 

I had no rulebooks, and all past feelings were based upon a past that wasn’t grounded in normal, so I couldn’t even trust them!

 

What was bad in the past was now good and what was good was now bad!

 

Picture the ladies of the religious cult coming out in the world of so called sin and devil making.  How they feel ‘normal’ and even of purer status to be behind gates and subjected to being controlled.

 

Isn’t it a tragedy that we fear the fearless and can eat Sunday dinners with a pedophile and be able to swallow.

 

Our fear and terror button has a totally faulty sensor.

 

I don’t know how my brother can flip his switch to off in places that are not harmful and then readjust the switch for places that are.

 

How overwhelming it is to be so wrong in such a right situation.

 

Yet we were trained that way.  Imagine being trained backwards.  Just as the ladies in the cult believe that they are doing ‘god’s will’ when in fact they are playing with the devil himself.

 

The devil has his hands on the fear switch and is pushing it in places that he will lose control.

 

How could the Serial Pedophiles of the Cult Religions have control, if the gates were open wide, if the ladies could talk and share with other normal people of the world, or if the world could come in and see what is hidden behind the gates?

 

Are the gates to keep the ladies/girls in or the world out?

 

It was spoken often and suggested firmly that we curtail all relationships with folks outside of our religion. 

 

The devil was anyone outside of the religion.  Put the Fear Of God in us.  And isn’t that true?

 

We feared God, but were faithful to the devil himself.

 

Astounding to me even now.

 

All I can say to my brother is to continue to walk into ‘devil realities’ and look again with your own eyes, hear with your own ears, to experience life and readjust your fear switch.

 

It is broken and shattered and has been that way since you were four.

 

You be the one to reset it, you can now freely say what it is you fear, for the devil is controlling it now.

 

This is what happens when someone you love, trust and have faith in molests you, rapes you, and makes you be submissive to acts that are deviant.  You make real fear fearless and then take the fearless and make it fear.

 

When an ‘uncle’ sexually abuses you, you are set backwards in fear from hence forth.

 

You feel in control in uncontrollable places, having control in being a victim.

 

And fear more the power of being free.

 

Like the rats in the shock box, like the ladies behind the gates of the devil’s religion, more at home in places where real fear lives.

 

“You are more afraid of your brightness, than your darkness,” says Marianne Williamson.

 

It is like we were raised with the Devil and thought it was God, and we now have to totally flip every last thing around.

 

Our journey to heaven turns out to be one to hell.

 

It is like being kicked out of the compound and you now have to learn to live alone.

 

What is fear and what is love, what is normal and what is not normal, what is functional and what is not functional.

 

Little did we know that all our switches are not functioning?

 

That is what it means to be dysfunctional.

 

In order to become functional we will rewire our switch by walking fearlessly into normal situations, to have fear but go in anyway, to take back the control of our selves.

 

Happy Birthday Honey!

Nineteen years ago today my youngest daughter arrived on this planet, a small little body housing a great big soul.

 

What an honor to watch her grow up and express herself in so many ways. 

 

Sometimes we have stood face to face a battle of the wills, and other times we see eye to eye. 

 

I have seen her experience hurts and glow with pride, watched her take new steps with courage, sensed the will to overcome even life’s little potholes and molehills, as well as face strongly life’s big changes.

 

I love how she does herself so well, that it isn’t about falling down, how you don’t leave yourself lying there, instead brushing yourself off and you take off again.

 

I have seen her veer away from friends when they turned down pathways, she didn’t want to go, I watched her go alone until she happened upon a new friend to walk with.

 

It is like her destiny is already written, and she is merely following the inner compass of what is right and wrong for her.

 

She is filled to the brim being her self, and that is all I want for her today and always, is to continue doing/being and loving herself.

 

May that voice inside never be muffled or silenced, that you always have the courage to walk fearlessly going against peer pressure to be loving to your self.

 

I love you just as you are!  Happy Birthday Honey!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Speakers.

On Monday, with a car loaded down, I settled myself into the middle of the seat, and proceeded to plug in my flashing light, and I jostled a dime that rolled perfectly into the cigarette lighter, which responded with a crackling sound.

 

The sound rang familiar, and I immediately knew that I had blown a fuse.

 

This one little fuse, also controlled my radio, and while I could dare drive without a flashing orange light, I didn’t want to be in a silent car.

 

I turned up the volume on the radio, praying that it wasn’t so, but all that came forth was white vacant noise, a loud sound of nothing.

 

Imagine the speakers still work, but they are standing separated from the instrument that uses them, a mouth with static and no words, or maybe no mind to form the words.

 

What occurred to me is that the radio is like the mind/ thoughts, the speakers like the mouth spilling forth what ever we tune in to.

 

I didn’t just miss the noise; I missed the message, the insightful thought provoking talk that I usually listen to.  I missed the delightful music I hear when I select a certain channel.

 

So I spent 5 hours in a car with a silent radio, although for the first few miles I was speaking in utter disbelief that I had to go all day without tantalizing information and that I was to just simply ride along with the sounds of the car.

 

It took a while to for me to realize no one was going to entertain me on this ride that I had to entertain myself.

 

I became familiar with the sounds of the car, and near the end of the route, the wheels began making a squeaking sound, which then turned into a grinding sound, the sound of break pads wearing out.

 

I brought home this car with troubles, and yesterday took out the ‘backup mail car’, which I am so grateful we now own, for I had to work again.

 

This time all the features of the car worked, but the radio wasn’t hooked into the wide assortment of channels that satellite radio has.

 

There is a difference between local radio and what is offered on the satellite. Some choices are better and others are much worse.

 

You get to decide what it is you will listen to.

 

I have had the wonderful opportunity to tune into the Oprah and Friends channel, where she had wonderful authors and doctors on that delve into subjects I love learning about.

 

She now has mostly herself and past TV shows and a smaller variety of others, but still I always hear something that I hadn’t heard before.

 

Deepak Chopra has a show on Saturdays, and he interviews people and shares noted doctors and scientist, authors etc, all pondering life.  Here too I am always hearing a new prospective, or at least thought provoking words, that keep me excited as I ride along.

 

Who knew that my learning could stop on a dime!  That this one little dime could stop the flow of information to me!

 

I learned that our bodies are much like radios, our mouths like speakers, and I am not sure who decides what comes out of our mouths. 

 

Can we exercise our minds, stretch them into new areas and become more like a satellite radio?

 

Maybe by asking the questions, “Who am I and what is my purpose?” or by simply being willing to ask questions, to observe and view life from a new point of view, we can change the amount of channels we have.

 

Perhaps we can look at our thoughts like different channels, how we can focus on the negative or we can focus on a better channel, or let it play out like a bad song. 

 

How interesting to learn that we have voices/speakers, that we also have either a limited radio, or one that has volumes of interests, and that we are the ones with our hands on the knobs selecting what we want to hear/speak.

 

Imagine our mouths are speakers, we can either shout, or say wise things, curse or saying loving words, give direction or scream orders, sing wonderful songs or lament at life’s drama, oh the power of our mouths.

 

What I do know is that some people are locked into a very narrow station, with limiting beliefs and thoughts, so you will not hear variety coming forth from their speakers. 

 

People are not so easily controlled as radios, and so far I haven’t seen an ‘off’ button. 

 

What radio station are you hearing?  What is coming from your speakers?

 

I love that I am the one who controls my speakers!

 

 

My psyche was all wrong.

  

What is the meaning of the word psyche?

 

psyche /psy·che/ (si´ke)

 

1. the human faculty for thought, judgment, and emotion; the mental life, including both conscious and unconscious processes; the mind in its totality

distinguished from the body.

 

2. the soul or self.psy´chic
psy·che(s k) n. The mind functioning as the center of thought, emotion, and behavior and consciously or unconsciously mediating the body's responses to the social and physical environment.

 

If I am reading this right, we have a body, then we have a psyche body that makes up our thoughts, judgments and emotions, our mental life, including the conscious, and unconscious.  And this mind body or psyche body mediates our body’s response to the social and physical environment.

 

The mind body, what our minds have learned and are comprised of, which is why my brother feels that his psyche is so mixed up at times.

 

If I am understanding this correctly, then in the case of being raised by dysfunctional parents we then get a dysfunctional psyche. 

 

This dysfunctional psyche is what we think from, judge from and our emotions are set from this point.

 

The psyche body is our mental us.  Our mental definitive description of us.

 

Just as you have a physical body type and shape, we have a psyche type and shape.

 

Our psyche then has to be the combination of thoughts, judgments and emotions we interpeted from our parents interactions and actions, we have mimicked their psyche.

 

To change your psyche is to change your thoughts, judgments and emotional reactions.

 

When I wrote a reply to my mother’s letter, it occurred to me that what she wants most, is for my emotional or my actions to be different with the incoming information.

 

It isn’t what we see that is the issue, but how we react, she wants me to have my old sense of psyche, to have dysfunctional responses, to not feel the correct emotion, to not scream, cry and shout. 

 

That is the twist, the backwards psyche we have developed.

 

We have been taught to respond differently.

We have been taught to think differently.

We were taught to develop this psyche that isn’t healthy.

 

My brother and I have been pushed back in our chairs in total bewilderment, angst and horror to see some of our beliefs, thoughts and just our overall mentalness.

 

To see first hand, to awaken to the shocking observation that our psyche is totally flipped around and backwards.

 

I had written Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor about her stroke of insight, and shared with her, mine.  What I related to her was that I had become aware of all the files that I had in my mind were totally screwed up.

 

Here is what that email said;

 

 

Dear Dr. Jill,

 

Thanks so much for sharing your experience.  What I want you to know, this book also helps others, even ones who have no physical brain issues.

 

When you discussed the two sides of the brain, and how each carries separate parts of how we experience our reality.  It explained to me, many things, that before I could not explain.

 

I am a survivor of incest and have memory loss, of the actual event.

 

Now, I know that in order to disassociate from those events, I made my files different from reality.

 

I am 49, and at 46, my niece was brave enough to speak up that her grandfather, my father, was molesting her.  It was then, that I had a stroke of insight.  My stroke of insight was that all my 'files' were wrong. Truth and reality shattered my world!

 

 Truth and reality, hard to believe that they could be harmful.

 

They were, to my left- brain.

It forced me into the right side.

It was the right side that brought me security and comfort, while I sorted out my life.

 

 Files with the labels, father, love, mother, and Normal, were all shattered. My whole world had been created with wrong information.

 

 I have in the past three years, walked through each file, and compare my old beliefs and knowing, with what is really reality.

 

It was like going to find myself, when I didn't know who I was, or even what I believed in.

 

 Your book, shared physical insights into what the brain is capable of doing.  I loved how you said the left side would take minimal information and create the most plausible truths.

 

 It can actually create whatever it wants to.... What it creates is a dysfunctional relation with reality.  Has you seeing what is not there, and not seeing what is.

 

Creates an untruthful place that allows you to be with people who are bad for you.  And sadly, it takes the good and turns it bad.

 

 I said that I found myself upside down and backwards, but for the first time felt right side up. For you see, I could not, as an adult get physically close to my father.  Something in me, kept me back.

 

My body feared him, but I had no words/pictures of why.

 Now, I know I was reading his energy.

 

The world was not upside down and backwards my left brain had created it that way. I lived in the left side, until Dec 4th, 2004, when truth exploded.

 

 The right side, reality and truth, led me out of a wilderness of dysfunction. My disassociation had kept me from me.

I have now found me, the Me that ran away when terror stepped into my world and stole my innocence and a normal view of reality.

 

 I am right side up, and my family is still upside down.  They are still lost on the left side, in files that are all wrong, compared to what is really happening.

 

 Thank you so much and again, you have no idea of how much you can help so many, whose files have been wrongly labeled depending upon the adults that raised them.

 

 My sister had aptly put it, "we were left alone in our minds, without adult supervision".....

 

She was right; we created the most plausible reason, with the least amount of information.  Children who have no idea what sex is, will do that. Sex with a father is way confusing to an adult, let alone to a child.

 

When you live on the left with files filled with information that is

 incorrect, you continue to live a life of abuse.

 For file labeled love, is full of abuse.

 File labeled security, is full of none secure places.

 

You book could shed light on why......and maybe teach others “not to trust “ the left side, like we do.

The left side is built upon the platform called home.

If your home is not in the truth, neither will your files be.

 

More and more mental diseases have to be from that basis.

Children grow up upside down and backwards, trying to fit into an right side up world.

 

When I began looking at my world, from the right side, and seeing what was really there, what I found, was a pedophile, a mental mother, siblings lost in dysfunctional lives, to me.  Me, who am I?  I had no idea. I found myself, a grown woman, with four children and a husband, living a life that had no basis in reality or truth.

 

It has taken three years, to walk out.

I am still a woman, with four children, and a husband.

All my relationships, have changed.

 Like you, I want to help others, shed some light.

 I too feel like I was conscious going through this.

Where as my siblings, were not.

All but one, have continued to be lost.

 

I know it as consciousness that saved me.

I had more awareness to correct the files.

 

Thanks for you time.....your book completed the puzzle, as to why and how I could not see, what was there!

 

Sincerely,

  

My stroke of insight was that my psyche was all wrong!

Dr. Jill signature on her email says,

 

*I must be willing to give up what I am in order to become what I will be.*

  ***Einstein***

 

 

 

 

 

 

Extra Ordinary

Elizabeth Lesser writes, “A good guide tries to get his or her personality out of the way. An inexperienced or self-interested guide does not.  A good guide is always turning the focus away from himself and back on the student or client, always reducing the work at hand to its most simple, personal, and intimate dimensions. Good guides are not miracle workers.  If they suggest that have special powers to heal you – or if the people around them prop them up as magicians – I would think twice about working with such teachers, counselors or therapists.  Oftentimes the most effective guides are what I call extra-ordinary people.  They are extraordinary healers because they are profoundly ordinary people who are comfortable with their humanness.  They are extra-ordinary.

 

 

Me

 

 

 

  

My daughter brings in the mail and drops it on my lap.  In the small stack is a manila envelope addressed to me, and of course the writing is recognizable, her scrawl immediately slings me into feeling that she is pleading or wanting something from me, ‘what now?’ I say, ‘what can she possibly want now?’

 

Dearest daughter,   10/19/09

 

I am consolidating my scrapbooks.  You were always the one interested in relatives.  That may have changed and that is fine.

 

These are yours to keep or throw away.  My memories are only mine.  No one can take those from me.  May you find acceptance and peace in the past.  What is – is, no amount of screaming, shouting, crying can change it.  I love you, always have and always will.  You are my beloved daughter I continue to pray you will come to accept me with all my faults and failures.

    Always and forever,

      Mom

 

Beneath her declaration of ‘love’ are old photos from my father’s family, his parent’s death certificate, their wedding certificate, just photos of relatives from long long ago. 

 

Only one picture pops out, it happens to be the first one and has a little green post it note.  “Family, only Edna is missing,”

Dated January 1957.

 

I didn’t even know I had an “Auntie” Edna, until a few years ago.  She was never brought up, it just never came up that my mother had a sister that she lost contact with.

 

Isn’t it strange how history repeats itself? 

Maybe by scrawling a little green note that she is missing, she is included.

 

How I would love to know her story, to know the reasons she left and perhaps of all of us I know.

 

My mother’s letter wants me to accept without screaming, crying and shouting what is.  To silently accept it, perhaps put a smile on my face and be a good girl!  Accept rape with dignity.  Accept being molested by my father with grace.

 

And that I am to accept her failures and faults, like accepting a body part.  That she has issues, but she doesn’t have to change them, but I have to just accept that, she prays for my acceptance, not for her the courage to change herself! 

 

Oh my God, I wonder what my letter of response would be?

 

Mommy Dearest,

 

What I want from you is for you to kick and scream and shout and cry when you see me.  I want you to see the past and feel the past and live with the pains and hurts and bruises and silence and all the goodness that I was forced to do while I was wounded inside. 

 

I want you to react when you see a child of yours wounded.  I don’t want you to turn away, to make excuses or forgive the man that did this.  I want you to make a scene, to shout it to the heavens a little soul is wounded!

       

    Wounded, always and forever,

        ME

 

 

Not a Drop Less.

My brother suggested since I used the term dad or father, that there was a part of me that still held out hope, or was in denial.

 

He may be right; the little girl in me is waiting for her father, waiting maybe for him to see what he left behind. 

 

A little girl waits, wanting to be special, to be held and protected, there is a part of me that wants a loving dad, a trusting dad, a faithful dad, one that will do anything for his family, a dad like my girls have.

 

I will not settle for a half dad, a partial or absent dad, I am not in denial as to who he is; I may be in denial that there is no hope.

 

It is a teeny tiny little spark, held way deep inside, one that you dare not even look at very often, for the smallness of it is so frail, it could easily disappear. 

 

When I watch my girls with their dad, the jostling for his attention, the flirting that goes on, the way he balances his love to each, taking time with each, the joy that fills him up when he sees them, the way he takes care of them, how he sees them always as ‘his little girls,’ reminds me this is possible.

 

He is not extraordinary, just simply extra ordinary as he interacts with them.  He treats them as individuals, enjoys teasing them, teaching them, guiding them, and allowing them to make their own choices. 

 

He is himself with them, he treats them like equals and lots of the time he slips down to their level and joins them there to play.

 

If I could pick a father it would be him, and I guess I did, I gave my girls what I didn’t have. 

 

My little girl within is so happy for my daughters, and sure I would be a liar if I didn’t wish to be them, even for one small moment, to have what they have, but it is not to be.

 

In order to be a mother you have to put your own little girl aside and mother your children.

 

It is really hard to do if your little girl never had a chance to be a little girl to someone.  It is like skipping a step.

 

“Wise beyond her years” and “She is such a little mother,” were terms used to describe me, I never had a chance to be a little girl, for my parents were Adult Children.

 

I guess the little girl is waiting for her parents to grow up, wake up and realize that this is not a rehearsal this is real life.  Waiting for them to see me as a little girl, their little girl, a little girl who is wounded by them.

 

Unless and Until they see the wounded little girl, nothing has changed.  They didn’t see me then and they don’t see me today.

 

How would it be to know for sure, to have the door of dreams slammed shut tightly?  To have them held prisoner behind there?  To know without a doubt, they will never see me?

 

I will not be the one to lock that door, nor can I be the one to open it.  That door will open only from their side. 

 

Children can’t make their parents parents.  It isn’t our job.  A child’s job is to be a child.  When you become a parent, you can no longer be a child.

 

It is then time to grow up and be the model they need, to grow up, and the only way you teach a child to grow up is be a grownup your self.

 

There is a duality in place within me for a part of me still longs to be the little girl I didn’t get to be.  Yet there is also a knowing, that as I play in life, as I find things I love to do, my little girl comes alive within me.  I am learning how to balance both being a mother and a little girl. 

 

It is not all or nothing, to pick just one this time.  If you are a parent you get to pick two.

 

I think both my parents are sitting and waiting for someone to come along and recognize their own wounded child.  And I am waiting for them to be done waiting. 

 

Little do they know that while their wounded child goes unattended, we, their children too go unattended, the cycle continues, we have to be the ones to stop it. 

 

To stop the waiting and start taking care of our selves.

 

To stop wanting someone to come in and fix the child within, we have to be the ones to do the work.

 

We are the ones to speak for her, stand tall for her, to walk a walk of honor for her; we have to be the ones we always dreamed about.

 

 

 

It is not an impossible dream, the dream is to one day grow up.

 

While I have been growing up and making tough parent choices, while I have been working really hard to see that my children have a mother that will do and say the strong things, I have also raised my little girl up to a standard that she expects the extra ordinary father.

 

She will not settle for ‘good enough’ she will not relax her inner self worth and allow another to bring her down.  I may have over shot the mark, but I now have grown into a higher standard.

 

I want my father to be the best father, not only for me, but also for himself.

 

I was a mother of lesser standards and I know the cost of that.  I know the pain my children suffered because I wasn’t a grown up, I wasn’t seeing the children, for I was too messed up.

 

I want for his kids the same that I want for my kids, I want for him what I want for myself.

 

I want him to be all that God intended him to be and not a drop less. 

 

(In Elizabeth Lesser’s book, “Broken Open” she writes about extra ordinary.  I love that term and it fits my husband.)

 

 

 

 

Uncontested.

My brother and I have been writing about our feelings or the lack thereof with our father, there is still something I am missing in our dialogue.

 

When I wrote the second time, I was addressing the fact that my brother was disappointed with the kind of father he had.

 

We also talked about my usage of the words dad and father when speaking about this man and it opened up another point. 

 

What is the meaning of dad and father?

 

Dad – an informal word for father.

 

Father - A male person whose sperm unites with an egg, resulting in the conception of a child. b. A man who adopts a child. c. A man who raises a child.

 

While reading them, the last part is where he failed; he didn’t raise us, he lowered us. 

 

My brother would like me to write the word dad (dad) to emphasize the lack of being one. Or perhaps use biological dad.

 

For the past 4 ½ years when I would speak of my father I would call him by his name, I could no longer referenced him with dad.

 

It would be nice if there was a new term for this, for a man who lowers his kids, who makes them less than who they are.

 

The word dad was like a swear word to me, like a mouth full of disappointment, and my tongue couldn’t form the word to slip it past my lips, it had broken my heart.

 

His formal name came easy, it ripped the title from his back.

 

It seems like a betrayal to yourself as a child, to use that name for someone who hasn’t acted like a dad, but rather used the dad term for priveledges of a sick disease.

 

In fact I had read somewhere that pedopiles who abuse their own children are seen as lazy, for they don’t even have the energy to leave their homes. 

 

You see some pedophiles don’t have home grown little girls, they have to construct elaborate ways to have the opportunity to be with little girls.

 

I guess that makes sense and it makes us seem like we were grown for a set purpose and then became residual garbage.  No wonder my brother feels so useless, he wasn’t even ‘special’ for a short period of time.

 

I felt this odd jealousy or a oneupmanship between my brother and I.

 

Is it better to feel used, abused and damaged or to never be seen at all?

 

About six years ago I read a book, “The Hidden Messages in Water,” by Masaru Emoto and here is a portion of what he says.

 

I have the impression that the act of looking at water crystals is an act of creating life.  This is because when you look at the crystals, the water changes its appearance moment by moment.  Your gaze has a special energy of its own, and while a gaze of good intentions will give courage an evil gaze will actually take it away.

 

A family that subscribed to our magazine conducted an interesting experiment.  They put rice in two glass jars and every day for a month said “Thank you” to one jar and “You Fool” to the other, and then they tracked how the rice changed over the period.  Even the children, when they got home from school, would speak these words to the jars of rice.

 

After a month, the rice that was told “Thank you” started to ferment, with a mellow smell like that of malt, while the rice that was exposed to “You Fool” rotted and turned black.

 

I wrote about this experiement in the book that I published, and as a result hundreds of families throughout Japan conducted this same experiement for themselves.  Everyone reported the same results.  One family tried a variation of the experiement: like the others they said “Thank you” to the first bottle of rice and “You fool” to the second bottle, and then they prepared a third bottle of rice that they simply ignored.

 

What do you think happened?  The rice that was ignored actually rotted before the rice that was exposed to ‘You fool.’  When others tried this same experiement, the results were again the same.  It seems that being ridiculed is actually not as damaging as being ignored.

 

To give your positive or negative attention to something is a way of giving energy.  The most damaging form of behavior is withholding your attention.

 

I think this experiement has the potential to teach us a very important lesson.  We must take care to give our children our attention, and to talk to them.  Speaking words of kindness and love should begin from the time of conception…..Masaru Emoto.

 

This book came to mind immediately and I recalled this experiment, but what I didn’t recall was the one jar of rice that was ignored.

 

So in the oneupmanship, my brother wins.  He rotted first.  I never knew that they hurt worse.  Wow.

 

Being abused you get attention, which is better than none at all.  I know this has to be why we feel guilty, for we wanted the attention so bad. 

 

Imagine what we do to just get attention, to just be seen, just so we are not ignored.

 

Neither one of us can call him dad, we both feel the title doesn’t fit, I just wish there were a title that did.

 

What do you call a man like our father?

What term can possibly fit that?

Estranged father?

Ex-Father?

 

I looked up divorce from father, and while glancing at the different sentences, one word caught my eye.  Uncontested.

 

What I feel most is that he didn’t contest his worthiness as father, he didn’t protest at all, how sad to find not one place where we could call you dad.

 

The scales tipped uncontested.