IMPERFECT Lady

Happy Birthday Honey!

Twenty-two years ago today, I became a mom for the first time. 

 

You know how it is when you do something for the first time, how you pretty much learn as you go, and if you do it again, you feel more at ease and even improve in some areas, well this little girl had to be the first for everything and I used her to hone my skills, by trial and error.

 

She is tentative by nature, and it really pushed her out beyond her comfort zone for each accomplishment.  She is much better being able to see the lay of the land, and to test the waters by watching first.

 

Yet she took a deep breath and jumped in.  The first one to ride a bus, to go to school, to live in a dorm, to drive a car, the list goes on and on.  The rest just followed her lead.

 

What a great leader she is, for she did what was required and did it well. 

 

Once she understood that she was the one, that no one could do her life for her, she would do the task at hand, no matter if she felt out of her comfort zone. 

 

That comfort zone is a place that can trap you and stunt your growth, and even when I knew it shook up her whole insides, I was forever behind her to move to the next level.

 

It wasn’t that she didn’t know what her next move was, she preferred the next move to come to her, and don’t we all.

 

I love how she shines with each accomplishment, how she is very diligent with her responsibilities, complaining is not her way.

 

We have always said that she is so young and innocent at heart, living in the world of wonder and delight.

 

Growing up or into a world infused with drudgery just doesn’t seem to happen, for her love of games, books, learning, etc keep life playful.

 

As another year of life completes itself, I wish you another, filled with joy, love and peace.

 

Thank you for always doing yourself regardless of your fears!

 

Happy Birthday Honey!

 

 

 

 

 

One Well Rounded Puppy Life.

We have a new puppy in our home.  We also have new parents in our home, new trainers etc. 

 

It is so interesting to see the different ways we all interact with this little puppy.

 

Two in here baby him, carry him around like he can’t walk, take naps with him, sneak him treats, giggle and laugh as he takes the upper hand misbehaving.

 

One wrestles on the floor, and almost acts like his species, tugging on socks, and rawhide, rolling around until one becomes tired, and it is usually the human.

 

My husband has had many dogs, and he seems the most natural with him.  He becomes a little boy again as he playfully teases him and loves to see his tentativeness with new strange noises.  Mostly loves the tail wagging greeting each time he sees him.

 

A few take him for walks, but underestimate his endurance, or maybe theirs.  He doesn’t feel confident enough to not walk between your legs, bumping into your ankles.  It is a big and unknown world out there.

 

In the house, they are interrupted as he is forever doing what puppies do. 

 

No more just lying around.  He is always into something; chewing a shoe, digging in the trash, a book, a magazine, a laptop cord, or doing his duty inside.

 

Lucky for us we have a relay team and we can pass him on to another person.  Imagine it takes 6 of us to keep up with one of him!

 

It is fun to watch how each interacts with him, how they slip him treats or think they found what he loves the most.  How he seems to know who he can do what with.

 

In the mornings, it is just he and I, and at first he thought I would be his playmate, but now he realizes that he and I spend quiet time.  He is lying on my feet as I type. 

 

I am the one who gets him up early for his morning potty break, I am the one for his breakfast, and we begin quietly.

 

As soon as one of the ‘spoiling giggling’ girls come by, he misbehaves, biting on their pant legs.  He is no dummy, he knows who he can do what with.

 

I watch them trying to get him to behave, they quickly learn stern is ok.  That it is up to them to make him stop, he will not on his own.

 

Puppies do not come filled with all the rules and correct behaviors; it is up to us to set the boundaries, to let him know what is acceptable and what is not. 

 

It is a huge world for him to learn, a vast amount of things to explore and taste and play with, he is brand new to this planet and to being a dog. 

 

We keep him safe, we allow him to grow, we build the dog of his dreams, introducing him to things he loves to do, neither of us are sure what those things are, yet.

 

It seems the kids are torn between having a dog and his chores, of being loved by him and annoyed by him, the two sides jostling around, as he is himself.

 

He is giving them a view of being responsible for another, for it is one thing to take care of yourself, but a whole new thing to teach another how to treat you.

 

They are seeing how kindness and spoiling will not beget good behavior.  How treats follow good behavior not proceed.

 

I love that they get to try their hands at parenting with this little puppy in our home with two more experienced teachers; we are like training wheels as they take a spin into parenthood.

 

I can see how beneficial it would be to have multi-generations in one home, how a young mother/father could learn from their parents on what to do and how.

 

We all will bring him a different view of life, from the rough and tumble, to the napping with treats, to just being quiet together, with the six of us he gets it all, one well rounded puppy life!

 

 

Let there be Peace in December

Yesterday on the radio I listened as Ed Bacon and Elizabeth Lesser spoke of the different types of Celebrations, mostly in December.

 

How December is seen as the dark night of the soul, when the days are so short and the nights long, and so many religions have a Spiritual Celebration in December.

 

It was very interesting to hear the different ways so many different religions are all celebrating the same thing.

 

Does it really matter what you call that Celebration Day, what traditions and rituals you use, if we are all focusing on Spirit.

 

What a great reminder, it isn’t about how we Celebrate the Spirit, but if we do.

 

They spoke of how Santa is an example of the unlimited Spirit, how it spreads love, joy and peace, how giving is where you will find Spirit.  

 

They spoke of there being no room for the Birth of Spirit, and how still today we become so busy doing, that we too forget to make room for our own Spirits.

 

It was an enlightening look at the approaching Celebration Season, and how we should honor all traditions and different cultures as they focus on Spirit.   There is only one spirit but a million ways we can be grateful.

 

If we let go of all the words that have been placed before the actual meaning, we will all agree, we are all trying to connect with the Spirit within us and to share Its meaning.

 

I received an email today that said someone is trying to take Christ out of Christmas.

 

It is like taking the Spirit out of you.  Is that possible? Can you remove the essence of your soul from you?

 

Is the Spirit a property to be owned by a select few?

It seems that there are mindsets that believe this, for isn’t that what most fight about.

 

My way is right, which makes your way wrong.

 

If we get lost in the way we celebrate, we lose sight of what we are celebrating.

 

I am not a learned person on all the different traditions, but what I do know is that they are all praising a Higher Power, a Spirit, and a Universe.

 

Does it matter if what name you call Spirit or what ways you use to connect?

 

I will look at this December with much different eyes watching how many folks Celebrate.

 

December is hope, that after the long night of the Soul a Light will appear and that we will find the Gifts in each lesson, how we can use the Spirit as the example of how to give endlessly with love, peace and joy, a reminder to leave room.

 

Let there be Peace in December.

 

 

Dance Like No One Is Watching....but you.

The let down feeling my sister left me with stayed with me awhile; the feeling that I was missing something important, and here is what I found.

 

I use to sell myself for love and peace; all my actions were for another’s feeling of love or to keep peace. 

 

It was like I would do tricks to gain their attention.

 

Isn’t that what they call the deed whores do?

 

What I think happens to me when another doesn’t like my latest tricks, when I can’t seem to gain their approval or feel their love, is that I feel it is something I am doing. In the past my behaviors I tolerated, to get the applause I so desperately needed.

 

I needed to feel accepted, for there was a running river of feeling less than inside of me. 

 

Of never feeling good enough, the masters needed me to perform to act a certain way, and then they would hand out my morsel of applause.

 

I endured the trick, to lap up their response.

 

Isn’t that interesting to know?

 

In the past I was like a circus animal doing tricks for applause, to now act in silence, it leaves a vacant spot where cheap applause used to be.

 

My sense of self, my own opinion, my self-love, self esteem, empowerment leave others hands still, the ‘atta girl’ is not spoken.

 

No wonder I am feeling out of sorts, like a dog doing tricks for its self, because I am.

 

I left the circus, I put down my costume, wiped the clown face off, and I now get to just be me.

 

When I perform tricks for just myself the cheering section is inside of me.

 

Isn’t it Gandhi who said, “You are the one you’re waiting for”?

 

While I was looking at their stilled hands, when I watched their mouths for certain cheers, I never once heard my self clap or shout great words of encouragement to me.

 

I was so concentrating on where I was going, that I didn’t stop to give myself applause for all that I have done.

 

I never clapped for myself that was always someone else’s job.  I never performed for my self I always acted for others.

 

How freeing to know that role is done, that I have successfully stopped the addiction to please.

 

It may take time to learn cheering routines, for it to be second nature, but to all those whose job it was to cheer me on, you are now set free.

 

I will cheer for me.

 

I will only do things that will make me cheer, make me shout and clap and feel excited.  I will never do things just for a cheer outside, for I will then become a performer for you.

 

When a sibling comes in, and wants my old performance, it takes strength to stand still to make no move, to disappoint them, to not join them in our old dance.

 

Like an old addiction they appear.

 

Yet I know that one sip, or one slip is all it may take to take me off this road.

 

What I want most is for them to join me here.

 

Free moving in a Self Loving dance.

 

Dance like no one is watching….but you.

 

 

 

I run, because you can't.

“There are only two mistakes one can make along the road to truth; not going all the way and not starting.”

             Buddha

 

I felt the loneliness today of my Aunt who ran away.  A woman I never met, yet I feel we are one.

 

I felt her sadness of being misunderstood and unknown, how her choice to save herself, sentenced her to a life alone outside of her family.

 

Ostracized for escaping, for saving ourselves, for walking free of abuse, we are not cheered, no clapping, instead we are jeered with sarcasm.

 

I never ever thought my harshest critics would be from my own family, they are forever punching the already weakened psyche.

 

The Little girl within feels so sad, empty of words to make them see. 

 

Today I wondered about my Aunt and her life, how she survived without contact from her family, yet like me the family she missed is the same one that brings her pain.

 

The intellectual part of me understands that the energy they bring me isn’t healthy, but my heart yearns for acceptance, for understanding and even empathy.

 

Like missing the stick that is poking you in the eye.

 

I have more empathy for folks who are set aside because of who they are, parts of themselves they cannot change.

 

Maybe because my Aunt disappeared and no one spoke her name that I want there to be words about me.

 

Perhaps this blog is a way that I too will not just simply disappear without a trace.

 

In the first few days of my father being accused of criminal sexual conduct, I wrote.

 

I wrote in disbelief, I wrote the words to anchor myself somewhere, to hold me in the sea of grief.

 

Writing is evidence of my journey.

 

I have kept all written communications from my family as evidence. I know that is an odd word to use. 

 

It was the evidence I needed to sort out which one of us was in reality and which one wasn’t.

 

My mental mind fought a long hard battle up against reality and in reality there are written words from a family who is not cheering me.

 

In as much as I want them to be cheering, what I needed more were their words of mental ness to shine the way out.

 

Maybe in the end their shouts of sarcasm are cheering me forward.

 

They are showing me there is nothing for me back there.

They were showing me how not to be.

Showing me how far I have come.

 

I feel the energy of my runaway aunt; she joins me in spirit as I run along, lending me her courage and strength.  I feel the spirit of many little girls whose time ran out, who were too empty to begin, I run for you. 

 

I run towards wholeness with truth at my side.

I feel you with me as I run.

 

The refrain “you are the wind beneath my wings” came to mind.

 

I am so grateful I was able to run away.

I am so not alone.

All little girls everywhere who suffered like I, I run for you.

I run, because you can’t.

 

My Mask was Insanity.

“The mask you show the world is nothing compared to who you are beneath.”

 

As I went to bed last night, I wondered about this blog, whether I had the right to publish everything that happens to me.

 

There are no names of my siblings or parents, just mine.

 

I am not certain what you are allowed to use when you write your biography, but what I have printed here are real actual words, not made up ones.  I quote them, but not their names.  To me that leaves them anonymous.

 

Confidentiality is a secret that is just between the two of you. 

Not to be made public or shared with a certain group, or a certain group keeps it confidential.

 

That word really bothers me, for mostly I have experienced the bad side of that, the lopsidedness of how it protects one individual and how the other person isn’t allowed to say the truth.

 

It becomes a vehicle where an unsavory individual gets to remain unmasked.

 

Confidentiality was used as a mask to hide behind with my parents in so many ways.  It was to their best interest that a certain group of kids remain in the dark.

 

Perhaps that is why full disclosure suits me now. 

 

My mother gave me my ‘inheritance’ check and said to keep it confidential.  Why?  Did the rest not receive theirs, were the amounts not equal?  It wasn’t for my good I remain silent; the check immediately became tainted and conditional.  She may have wanted me to feel special, but at what cost to the others? 

 

I think there are mutual places of confidentiality where intimacy, love and trust agree, where two people are both honored by it.

 

It is the darker side of confidentiality that bothers me. 

 

When they ask for my confidentiality, I become the keeper of their secrets, the strings that hold the mask in place; it becomes my job to make them into something that they are not.

 

Behind our agreed upon contract, they get to remain hidden, while I fearfully keep silent, knowing.

 

Knowing it is up to me to keep their façade alive.

 

I have the power to tear off the façade, to destroy the mask of nice, to expose the truth that lies beneath. 

 

Fear keeps you holding it in place.

 

Fear that you too are no longer who you say you are, for you are now an accomplice to the crime.

 

Who are you now and who are they really?

 

When I broke our sacred contract of confidentiality, I became the monster.  I was the one who dared speak of what lay beneath the mask of mom of dad.

 

I feel like I am a monster to my sister too.  I feel she wants me to hold her words as secrets, a special place between us, yet they fester there, they hurt me. 

 

How can her own words hurt her when they are aired?

Is that possible?

 

I am confused again.

 

That seems insane that your own words can come back and hurt you if they are not kept silent?

 

Can I really hold them away from you?

Will me keeping them silent have the power to protect you?

How does that work?

 

When your words leave you, they are intended for another, what are your intentions?

 

There seems to be an energy or intention that is attached to messages and words, a hidden desire, what is yours?

 

When you pop into my world after so many years of silence, it in intrigues me to know why?

 

When our family broke open we were pulling in opposite directions, while I was determined to keep them unmasked, you were diligent in holding the masks in place.

 

Where do we stand now?

 

No fancy words are needed our actions speak for us.

 

Perhaps this open forum isn’t for you and your words, I understand, but this space has brought me much peace and clarity, this place holds my sanity.

 

Its only requirement I wear no mask.

My mask was insanity.

 

It Helps to Write.

I hesitate to once again publish my sister’s response to me publishing the first message on this blog.

 

Yet I feel that full disclosure is the most honest thing to do.

Otherwise only my side is viewed. 

 

I hear her words and you should too.

 

I did go back and read more of your blog; saw what you did with my words. A dialog that began between just the two of us you felt the need to publish....is there power in that? What do you gain? It is precisely the game of words and poetry that I am uninterested in...remarkable the leap you made with my intentions. To assume there is anger, slamming and all the other creative verbage to describe my feelings towards you is genious! Vigilantly defend your stance, see hidden meaning in words, assume the motives of others and continue on your path to enlightenment-it is working for you, that is clear.

 

Here is my response;

 

There is no power publishing how low my family thinks of me. There are no winners in this. The sides are two sides of losing.

You either lose your self or your whole family.
Is that a choice you want to make?

What you call poetry and fancy words, they are words of my soul, of my pain, of my confusion, of me not wanting to play again with folks who are not interested.

I hear you state and make light of what is our tragic abuse.
How it is a 'sad little song'?

It has ripped apart the spirit of little girls, it has stolen innocence.

To not focus on the damage that 'sad little song' did, is to not see us.

To see the little girl.

I feel you are angry that I am focusing on the 'bad' stuff while you all would love me to say the nice things.

I am sorry, but the bad stuff has been stuffed aside for too long.

I published our messages, to sort out why I am seen so wrongly by you all.

It confuses me. Tell me what I did wrong.

My blog or whether I engage in a relationship with you is not a game, it is real.

Relationships to me are held in the highest esteem.
I need to know who I am 'playing' with. I no longer like things to be hidden, I like open dialogue.
Don't say things to me that I can't share.

Once your words leave you, they are mine and they were directed at me.

Would you temper your words if you knew they would be published?  Aren't your feelings your feelings whether they are public or private?

Our whole childhood was about 'secrets' and in those secrets pain lived.

Secrets that hurt little girls.
It is time for secrets to stop.

I am not grand standing on the blog, but simply using that as a way to sort out my confusion as I said before.

When you don't see the seriousness of the blog, you don't see the seriousness of our abuse and what damage it caused us in all areas of our world.

It is not just a small part of our world, there was no part of me that wasn't affected.

Our whole psyche was twisted up and made to be mental.

To call 'dad' a man who can rape his own daughter is beyond what my mind can hold. As a little girl we are severely affected. Our lives are changed forever.

You don't unring that bell.

 

My 'blindness' of that incident was from severe trauma, yet our neighbor girl remembered US being raped, we were there together. My body feared that man. My body held the memory. My body didn't lie.

I am working like hell to work my way into a normal life from that.

It is not fancy words, for none can pretty that up.

When you ask to be my friend, you are being a friend of a wounded girl.

I will not cover up my wound.

I am imperfect because I was raped as a child by my father.
I cannot call that man my dad, now that I know.

The stance that I defend so vigilantly is "I was abused".
I will never say otherwise.

It has made me be someone totally different than I would have been if this had not happened.

I will find that me I was suppose to be, the me beyond the wound.

Your words hurt, for you want to turn away from me.
Because I am wounded, because I won't pretend not to be.

I may publish this just so you know.....I am not sure.
That blog to me is a friend who will always listen, kindly.
It helps to write.

 

It Would Cost Me, Me.

Yesterday while riding along in my mail car, the thought kept floating through, “she loves what she is not interested in”, meaning my sister.

 

For if you look at the first part of the message, she is telling me what parts she and I do not agree with;

 

Oh my god too funny. Maybe it is just as simple as you are my sister...but then after looking at your "imperfect lady" blog...ok, not that interested...guess you want to replay that sad little tune to keep yourself connected to the sad horrible life that you were given and wow do you sound enlightened! Yet the people who truely know you and your "story" don't really see the example that you say you are. I think your lack of involvement speaks volumns in where you really are. Is is really easier to reinvent who you are to people that don't know you? Sorry but I am not buying the bullshit -you can peddle that to other "enlightened souls". I don't mind the fact that we don't agree but to throw out the entire family for not being on your "level" -just sad. I hope you change your mind and decide that the love of sisters and brothers who too have been through this aweful mess -yeah surprisingly I lived this too-is worth far more than the approval of strangers! Good luck with your life and I am happy to see that your children and even your husband seem to be aware that family doesn't just go away because it is uncomfortable to acknowledge.

The second part is telling me how she is different than I and how she loves me. 

 

Sorry that "imperfect lady" is going to be the legacy of your life. I just want to be a perfect me in this imperfect world. I have chosen to let god handle the punishment and moving on with forgiveness in my heart. My life is so much bigger than allowing for my parents to define the person I am. Sad that we can't just be sisters just because I love you. Always will. I miss the laughter that we all used to share. I am not interested in being in your club-there is enough misery and hardship in the world. I refuse to join it!
I truely wish you the best. If you decide you are interested in my plain old life and want to be a part of it, you will always be welcome. I love you-your sister

 

The two parts of the letter don’t match.

 

Do you love what you don’t like or are not interested in?

How can that be called love?

 

What is the opposite of not interested and loving something?

Isn’t that interested or not loving?

 

Can you see how twisted this is?

 

Would you call this a love message?

 

I asked her specifically to go and read about me and then to see if she really wanted to be my friend.

 

She did read and changed her mind.

 

I didn’t change my mind for I was suspicious.

 

I love what I am interested in and I would have to say that I don’t love what I am not interested in.

 

Does anyone but me see the juxtaposition she is in?

 

If this were from your sister would it feel like love?

 

Do I need to apologize when this doesn’t feel like love?

It feels like dislike.

 

When some one dislikes me or is not that interested, I do not seek to get closer to them.  I recognize that we are on two different paths.

 

I guess I could have pretended we were on the same page, but don’t you think she would have caught on when I didn’t partake in family functions? 

 

It is not that simple where we can ‘agree to disagree’ and isn’t that like pretending you agree?

 

To stand in a spot of pretend agreement, I am certain that’s what this means or maybe to pretend you are not alike anymore.

 

Her and I can agree to disagree in who our father is.

What does that mean?

 

Wouldn’t we be pretending to be okay with the other believing another way?

 

What is wrong with seeing/feeling/hearing the dislike and responding in kind?

 

Why is it not okay for ‘sisters’ who are different, not be together, IF there is no common ground for them to stand on.

 

Isn’t it more truthful and authentic of two women who look at each other and in total honesty see, ‘we don’t belong together’.

 

Somehow it is okay to divorce your spouse, but to divorce a family seems so wrong.

 

I walked with a friend the other day, and she coached a woman who was contemplating divorce, that if you are willing to have a relationship and live with the consequences of his drinking/running around etc, keep the man. 

 

Isn’t this the same for me?  I would have to put up with her putting me down to have a relationship.

 

Instead of being put down, I put her down.

I laid down the relationship of sister.

It would cost me too much.

It would cost me me.

What she and I call Love.

It is interesting the dialogue that ensues when I simply asked;

 

I am very interested in knowing why you requested me
on Facebook.

It has been a long while, and it puzzles me now.

I have a blog, and that will let you know if you really want to be my friend.

 

Am I not allowed to ask why?  And I truly was curious as to whether, given my thoughts, insights and views of my self and life, if would we match. 

 

I honor her response, I am happy she can define what she is interested in, and it isn’t me.

 

It seems lots will defend and fight for the ‘relationship of sisters’, while discounting the two individual girls.

 

We were both abused and raised in a dysfunctional home.

It creates a more tenuous thread between us.

 

By focusing on the relationship, the two girls disappear.

By focusing on the relationship, the abuse disappears.

 

If we took the ‘sister’ part out and just kept the relationship of two women, would you then be able to see how we may not match.

 

There are two ways to look at unconditional.

It can either be directed outside or it can be looked at from your inner view.

 

I do not have conditions that others need to change.

I have conditions that I need to change.

 

You can literally be who ever you desire, but then give me the chance to then decide If I want to be your friend.

 

I will not dictate or tell you what to do, you are free to be you.

But I am then allowing myself to move towards you or away.

 

I love that my sister can move away from me.

What bothers me most is that she can move towards the man who abused her. 

 

Can you see who she feels more comfortable with?

 

As a human being, do we want a victim to stay ‘friends’ with a  man who abused her.

 

I have stated that abuse from a father really crosses so many wires, for we learn to love those who hurt us and then move away from those who don’t.

 

I have not raise one hand to this sister, I have not sexually abused this sister, I have shouted at her trying to get her to see that the man she has sided with and called father is a pedophile.

 

Yet, in the end, I am the one she walks away from, I am the one she is ‘not that interested’ in.

 

Please don’t lose sight of the girls and of the abuse or even what she and I call love.

 

A letter to them.

Byron Katie has what she calls, A Judge Your Neighbor Worksheet. (Byron Katie,  thework.com )  And on that sheet you are to be as petty, and judgmental about someone who you feel causes you stressful thoughts.

 

While rereading the message my sister wrote, I told my brother that I feel once again all that hurtful energy is like a boomerang and it will go right back to her.

 

It reminded us of the ‘judge your neighbor worksheet’.

 

We then decided to replace all the you’s in her letter with I’s.

 

Any place where she was directing hurtful or seemingly hurtful energy to me, we turned it around.

 

Here is an example;

 

You want to replay that sad little tune to keep yourself connected to the sad horrible life that you were given and wow do you sound enlightened!

 

So, if you take the you and switch it with I, it will read as follows;

 

I want to replay that sad little tune to keep myself connected to the sad horrible life that I was given and wow do I sound enlightened.

 

And here is another; Yet the people who truly know you and your "story" don't really see the example that you say you are. I think your lack of involvement speaks volumes in where you really are.

 

Yet the people who truly know my ‘story’ and me don’t really see the example that I say that I am.  I think my lack of involvement speaks volumes in where I really am.

 

It is really easier to reinvent who you are to people that don't know you? Sorry but I am not buying the bullshit -you can peddle that to other "enlightened souls".

 

It is really easier to reinvent who I am to people that don’t know me.  Sorry but you are not buying the bullshit –I can peddle that to other ‘enlightened souls’.

 

Hateful or angry letters written to another really are about you.

 

Some may say that this is my way of making it better for me or that I am in denial of my interactions.

 

In the beginning when the energy systems seemed to be bringing me hate, anger or just plain unhappiness about my actions or the lack thereof, I stopped engaging or even sending anything back.

 

I simply didn’t have the energy to defend or try to change their minds.  And I guess so hurt that I couldn’t go in to that system trying to explain myself.

 

So, what I thought was to get other letters written in anger at me and see how they too flip back to the sender, how it shows more of who they are.

 

Ok, here is another letter that I never responded to.

 

“you decided WITHOUT talking or discussing anything that I was no longer ‘worthy’ of being your sister.

 

I decided WITHOUT talking or discussing anything that you were no longer ‘worthy of being my sister.  (Ouch.)

 

It is easy to LISTEN to and SPEAK to only those who reflect and confirm your beliefs.

 

It is easy to LISTEN to and SPEAK to only those who reflect and confirm my beliefs.

 

I think it is comical that you actually believe that your actions are perceived as rational and that those you INTEND to hurt are bothered by your bizarre behavior.

 

I think it is comical that I actually believe that my actions are perceived as rational and that those I INTEND to hurt are bothered by my bizarre behavior.

 

You NEVER faced him nor did you speak to him.

 

I NEVER faced him nor did I speak to him.

 

Where were you the day he faced the judge?  How dare you act hostile to any of us when you sit in your home and judge.

 

Where was I the day he faced the judge?  How dare I act hostile to any of you when I sit in my home and judge.

 

You stopped listening and reaching out when you couldn’t CONTROL the responses. You can die right and alone or you can decide that all of us are worth loving no matter what.

 

I stopped listening and reaching out when I couldn’t CONTROL the responses. I can die right and alone or I can decide that all of you are worth loving no matter what.

 

Isn’t it astounding to see the actual turn around that Byron Katie speaks about?

 

Of course my sisters would have to be willing to question their stressful thoughts about me in order to see that those thoughts are really about themselves.

 

I do have to do one more turn around on my mother’s latest letter.

 

“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 that.  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.”

 

My memories are only mine.  No one can take those from me.  May I find acceptance and peace in the past.  What is is. No amount of screaming, shouting, crying can change that.  I love me, always have and always will.  I am my beloved daughter, I continue to pray I will come to accept me with all my faults and failures.

 

Wow, isn’t it simply amazing in its tragedy?

 

The volume of the anger that is directed at me, I am the target, there is a bull’s-eye on my back okay, my heart and they are free to lob arrows of anger anytime they feel the impulse.

 

Confused people feel that by changing the actions of others ‘outside’ of them that then their lives will be better. 

 

If they can only manipulate us by screaming and belittling us, then their worlds would be better.  It is all about them.  It literally has nothing to do with me.

 

They are not caring one iota what I need, feel or want, who I am, sincerely ‘not interested.

 

Even though the letter was sent to me, it was a letter to them.