IMPERFECT Lady

Love wins...over different!

My mind has been spinning with the Ruling on Friday, that everyone is talking about.  How the Gays now have the same rights as the rest of us folks.  

What took awhile to bubble up to the surface is this isn't about the Gays at all.  

Anti-Gay laws weren't created by the Gay people.

Gays were not acting in a manner that justified their treatment.

They literally are doing what comes natural in love....for them. 

Their love looks different than other love.  

But, it is love.

Isn't it insane that at one time, like a week ago, there was a law that defined love?

And, even more insane, was that at one time, I too agreed with this law.

The strict religion I was raised in had a narrow view on love. 

Love was restricted to a man and a woman.

The religion felt they owned love...and if you didn't love like they loved, you were not equal; but less.

What I have also thought of during these past few days is that there is no way that loving Gay people can be a threat.  

A threat to what?

In my relationship with my husband, having loving Gay people marry will not lessen what we have.  I do not feel threatened or less because of the ruling.

In fact, oddly, I feel more ashamed.

Ashamed that I am part of the percentage of the population who have allowed them to be second class citizens.  I am part of the 'regular' love folks who have waltz on our merry way to marry.

Not only to marry but to have the rights to our partners health care and to be able to be there for medical emergencies....etc

I took for granted the rights they were denied...with their loving life partners.

I was part of the populations that denied them the rights.

Like it didn't matter...that much, cause it didn't affect me.  It was just the way it was.

I accepted where I was....as much as where they couldn't go.  Without thought or question...it just was.  And, without too much consideration on how it was to be them.

Mostly, in the debate, how often can you sit in the other chair?

Do you see what their side feels like?

When you are on the side that is oppressing...do you feel those who are oppressed?

I knew of their inequality, but I didn't feel I was part of their oppression, yet I was.

I was raised to see them differently.   

What also came to me is that my narrow mind is now wide open.  

I had liberated the Gays long before the ruling.  They were not as I was taught, but rather they were just like me.  Equal human beings...who loved.

How many of the conservative christian people have been taught like me....to see them as different.  NOT that they are different.

That is the difference.

We are taught to see wrongly and then call them wrong.

Love was never in the context of Gays when I was young.  It was as if their very nature was wrong, not even that they loved differently, but they were just wrongly put together.

Here is what I do believe is threatened and rightly so...(or its about time).

What is threatened is the lucidity of wrong thinking.

This wrong thinking has got to be exposed for what it is.

The narrow minded closed thinkers uncomfortable with differences people will feel the odd looks now. 

For they will become the minority of folks who believe that love can only be between a man and woman....and only they are entitled to benefits by their love union.

Perhaps the difference will now be between those who see love and not the gender of the lovers.

I know this will not come easy to folks who, like me have been taught to see them differently.  But, it is up to us...for it was us who made them different.

We have to be uncomfortable with different...until we expand and feel the space for all to enter in...in love.

What I want to impress upon those who have been labeled different.  You didn't attach the label, we did.

You are and have always been you.

We made you different...not you.

You naturally love how you love.

We have un-naturally created a world that rejects you.

For this, I am sorry.

I am sorry for agreeing to see you differently...and for not seeing love.

It is my hope, that IF my narrow minded thinking can widen....so too can the world.

I am proof it can be done.

Love wins...over different!

I can see there may be a series...."Love Wins!"

 

 

 

 

Once upon a time

What I have granted, due to my own need for freedom, is for others to be free. 

This sounds simple and even healthy, and more, very natural.

However, coming from dysfunctional homes where choice isn't an option....allowing choice is hard to navigate.  It isn't a learned behavior that I easily fell into.  I had to give up control to suite my needs and allow.

Simply allow another to pick and choose.

Everything then becomes fluid and out of control.  

What I believe we mostly are impressed upon is that family has the right to attend each and every function.  

They are indelible.  

And, WE don't have a choice there.

With this belief most major life celebrations come laced with emotional land minds.

The restrictive boundaries are broken down and all manner of dysfunction swirls around mixing with party decorations.

Each party and gathering doesn't have just joy and celebration; but the anxiety undertones of abuse.

I am not sure those who have been raised without choices, understands the stark difference between a party of kindness and one where all manner of behavior is welcomed in...hoping it doesn't display itself in public.

I can't even adequately articulate the festivities that have monsters hidden behind common faces of Relatives...and the energies of fear and anxiety they ignite.

Tranquility spiked with jolts of negative emotions.

I didn't know this, until I had a life celebration event where the guest list was void of undertones.

The unspoken or unseen differences that appear in party wear...were absent.

It seems even odd for me, that it has taken 56 years before I was able to have a life celebration without feeling PTSD throughout the whole party.

To me, this has to be the flavor of my childhood.

Where no matter the event, the undertow carried the energy feel for the party.

The cake and candles couldn't be festive enough to minimize or equalize the negative emotions and feelings of trauma...that was the steady background noise.

Part of me feels the sadness for the endless events that were overshadowed by the negative energies some guests carried with them; undoing the painstaking attention to the carefully planned details.  The party never had a chance to be just a party.

I also know, if you yourself haven't given yourself the luxury of freedom to choose guest, based up personal interaction of respect and commonality or friendship...you have never experienced a party as pure joy.

My body wasn't bracing, just enjoying.

This to me is the fallout from my walking away.

Where the pattern is literally felt to be different.

That there is opportunity for choices.

I know I can withstand and endure parties where the underlying feelings oppose the party theme.  But, what I really, really, really know now is the beauty of parties of love.

Where folks who arrive carry only love...and friendship.

Their energy matches the party scene... where love was put into the details.

What I also know to be true, is that these parties often were believed to be healers or fixers of broken family. That somehow if you had the right and perfect party, then the family would bond deeper etc.

And, what I now know, is that a family where there is no undertow....then, no undertow appears at the party.

It is just happy people celebrating with a party.  Period.

As Dr. Jill Bolte-Taylor said. "You are responsible for the energy you bring into the room."

And in this case, you are responsible for who you invite.

Isn't it funny, but we feel we must invite family, even if they bring in energy that will zap the party's good vibes.

I sat with feelings of complete awe and gratitude to be in a space where a party had center stage!  For even when silent the unspoken, unexpressed emotions would eclipse the joy.

I am always amazed in the ability of negative energies to steal the spotlight.

Which is why I have put up such high boundaries against it these past 10 years.

What a great pattern to hand down to my children.

The possibility for a new story to be written...."Once upon a time..."

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am Me.

What's remarkable, is the people we grow up to be, isn't often who we are...but rather who we had to be in order to survive, or for there to be some semblance of peace, and to be accepted.

Life molds and shapes us...but that doesn't mean it is us.

This may be kinda confusing, even to yourself.  If you have never sat and thought about who you are and why.

Why you are the way you are.

Survival skills are often masquerading as You.

They were set in place for you to cover up true emotions or feelings from showing.

Living a wholesome life, doesn't mean eating proper food or living correctly with the environment.  It means to be aligned with your heart and soul.  To feel connected to you.

Most cling to the self that was molded via their life experiences and not even realize there is a self beyond that.

The molded self makes you feel like you can't change....or the world will end.

You have lived so long for what the outside world needs, you have lost contact with who you are and what you would love....if no one cared.

We wait for permission to stop living as this molded self.

We wait for the outer world to release us from the mold they put us in.

It won't happen.

Do you ever stop to think about why you were set in a role and what it meant?

Those who will be affected the most NEEDED you to act a certain way for their benefit....usually a life that was presented to the world, to cover up a true mess.

We were molded for appearances.

And, when I smashed my mold....and let all the mess show, I was the one with negative traits and actions.  No one still wants to see the reality of what our survival selves had to cover up.

I threaten the perfect life...and family.

I am the ruiner.

What continues to blow my mind is how they are not particularly interested in me finding my whole self, my connection to my soul, my living authentically.  The individual successes matter not a wit, compared to the whole image of the family.

A family that retains the image EVEN after abuse comes in, time and time again.

Pose.

Be.

Smile.

Show that all is well with Thee.

This is the mold.

Not the truth beneath it.

We then grow up unable to show our truths.

We focus on the positive.

AND believe if we do, we will show a positive family.

We mostly see molded people...displaying a face to the world that has little to do with reality.

Those of us, who are reclaiming the face beneath the facade...are threats to the illusional life we were trained to present.

At 46 years old, when the truth shattered my mold.  I had not a clue who I was.

I lived so long pretending, I didn't know me.

Smile when you feel like shouting.

Go when you feel like staying.

Doing when you feel like not doing.

I didn't know how to literally match my actions to my feelings.

And, when I did, my family shattered...into pieces.

It didn't hold up to the sniff test.

All I was left with were facades....

They would not agree with me.  I get this too.

The molded and the unveiled have no language to meet on.

The voices and actions are unmatched.

Which is why so many dispute me.

They would.

No matter what they say, they can't shatter the real me.

I know me.

I love me.

I am me.

 

Another Part of Me!

In recovering from Sexual Abuse, we go back to our past to heal, feel, and to understand what we didn't see or record...We don't go back to "Fix" or "Change the Past".  It is a journey to reclaim our power and right our abused mind.

It is not wallowing in the past, in a wishful state or lamenting about things and wanting them different.  It is the complete opposite of what you may believe.

It is to go and revisit our past childhood wounds, but with an adult mind.

To feel the emotions that were beyond what a child could express.

Bringing words and wisdom...as well as eyes that now have the courage to see.

We are stripping our layers of denial and subterfuge...willing to walk naked in the truth, in order to reclaim our birthright; peace, love and joy!

It is messy and soul wrenching.

Tragically beautiful.

I do not know a more beautiful journey than to going back in time to restore my wounded child.

To hold her hand and open my heart to all her sorrow.

In denial I was a woman who did not have access to all the wild beats of my heart, nor was I connected to my authentic self.

The journey of time....the past 10 years and counting, have been the most beautiful and sorrowful, magical and synchronistic,  heartbreaking and heart healing, an incredible birthing of Me.

Words can't describe it adequately.

It is the complete opposite of what those who haven't journeyed here believe.

I am not sitting with the wounded one, "in hopes of a different childhood" or for that matter a different life.

I am sitting with her learn to be a different me.

The wounded self was a survival child, she and her body did what it had to do to survive an incestuous home.

Who we have become is a woman who will no longer set aside her truth for the comfort of others.

We, my child and I, walk together in search of aspects of myself that I gave away.

Bits and pieces of me that for a multitude of reasons...we weren't truthful about.

Not truthful to me....and not truthful with others.

Each reclaiming part has created a stronger more empowered self.

Ten years and counting to re-build and re-claim what was damaged.

I am willing to do another 10, if that's what it takes.

I am unwilling to leave any part of me behind.

I want to be fully myself.

The journey inward isn't all for naught.

It isn't to change things....it is to un-change.

It is to undo denial.

Undo the self that didn't see.

Undo the self that didn't hear.

Undo the self that didn't feel.

Undo the self that didn't express.

Undo the self that didn't speak.

It is to unlock and engage the child, who gets stuck and frozen with abuse...and slowly get her to say and do and feel and express...Her truth.

To take a child too afraid to talk about her abuse....and get her to share.

To take a child too afraid to feel the depths of sorrow....and let her feel.

It's a sacred journey of the soul.

It wasn't to change or fix the PAST, it is to change and fix Me.

I can feel.

I can see.

I can hear....all the truths of me.

I can feel the emotions of joy and sorrow, of terror and love, and I am willing to be with all of me.  I don't push away the dark emotions, for they are signals in my life. 

Without going back to my past...I would not have recovered Me.

I would still be that adult child too afraid to talk and share and feel All of Me.

By going back I unlocked myself to be myself.

I am free to be me.

To make different choices and have a new voice.

I went back to have a different future and to leave a different legacy.

My limb on the family tree appears different.

How grateful am I!

I am not airing the dirty laundry of the past...I am airing out the Art of Me.

Here I am...

On full display....the dark and the light.

There is no part of me, I am not willing to see.

Or feel 

or hear.

I am now and forever, willing to go back to my past to reclaim another part of me.  

 

 

 

Your Heart and Soul.

"One of the most courageous decisions you'll ever make is to finally let go of what is hurting your heart and soul"  Brigitte Nicole

I was stunned when I discovered that it appears that I am stuck, since I have written about sexual abuse for 10 years, that I have not moved on.  I have flopped around and wallowed or waded into the very center of being sexually abused by my father.  I have felt and prodded myself deeper and into each and every crevice of darkness and feelings of utter terror.  I have been excavating my wound for unexpressed emotions...and sought out thoughts that insulted my soul.  

I have bent and twisted myself while learning new ways to respond to life.  I have said words to family members that broke my heart, in order to change the inbred patterns of abuse.

I have lost family and friends to stand against abuse.

I have dissected my childhood religion and its practices and separated from that.

I died as one person and grieved her...as I struggled to find a new pathway that honored my soul...simultaneously.

The breath and depth of my accomplishments blow my mind and thrill my soul.

I walked away from family.

Just sit with that awhile, please!

I have disengaged from their lives in order to honor a truth I felt deep inside. I made a vow to myself to stand with my wounded child; and have never left her side.

EVEN when it meant I would be shunned and ridiculed and demeaned...when distanced and left alone with my pain.  Or worse when family added to it.

Try doing this...even once.

Perhaps this is my third deep wound.  And, I suppose I could drop "Perhaps".

My father abused me.

I told my mother and nothing happened.

I spoke the truth to my family and they turned away.

1, 2, 3....

My words, my feelings, my endless exploring and re-visiting the consequences of being abused...didn't interest them.  They 'moved on'.

Moved where?

They are still doing that which they were doing when the news hit...but, perhaps more of it.

Nothing changed. 

They still turn a blind eye and deaf ear to abuse.

Abuse that is Me.

Not abused, but abuse.

It is as if I am responsible for the abuse.

I can't think of another tragedy that would turn family against you.

This is where the deepest hurts live.

Where you are asked to let go of what hurts your heart and soul....and it is your heart and soul; family.

Leave them behind in order to save yourself.

And while you are trying to save yourself, the family will rip you apart.

I know, they say I am cold, bitter, and unforgiving. That I have wallowed in the past, refusing to let go.

Really?

Who let go?

Have you walked away from our parents....or have you stood by their side and spoken for them...even upon their death, what have you done?

How can being with them, be letting go and moving on.  No, you haven't budged...but have drawn closer.  

Oh, I guess you have let go.

You let go of me.

I felt it.

I felt each and every eye that turned away.

Every hand that let go.

Every voice that is silent.

My little girl inside has felt it all.  She has withstood the volume and depth of what she lost.  Those she cared for...in her time of need....were standing next to the ones who hurt her.  And, in turn that hurt....again.

I get it.

I also get...why you can't let go.

I used to be there too. Holding on to what, I then thought, was love.

Also, about forgiving and forgetting.

It has been hard.  I have forgiven, in the sense of accepting that the past can be no different....accepting that each of you can't be different.  Accepting that I had to let go....or die.

The little girl inside of me....was barely there, when the truth arrived.  A small weak, unsure, unsteady voice..."It is true....dad abused me too."

That one belief....expressed out loud, changed my world.

Regardless of your support or the lack thereof....my little girl grew with me by her side. 

Yes, I let go.  I let go of your needs and your wishes and grabbed on to mine.

I know many have seen me as selfish and self serving and trying to lap up attention by being so outspoken....etc.  

What they can't see is me loving me.

Me finding me broken and accepting her as she was.

Me walking with her in stilted and unsure ways.

Me daring to speak out loud in public about my wounds and saying how I left those who hurt me.  How I lived in denial for 46 years and the things I did there.  I have shared all of me....

And I am finding folks who don't turn away...

or turn a blind eye

or deaf ear

They see me, my wounds and all.

Some may think I left the family for the 'spotlight'.

No, the family left me...when I shown the light.

As I shine the light...family moves away.  Away from Me.

This is the true marker of an abusive family.

Ignoring the wounded child.

As the saying goes. "Hurt people, hurt people".

The only way you can end abuse, is to move away from folks who hurt your heart and soul.

 

"Forgive them, they know not what they do..."  

Changed Direction

When I think of my Art and its journey, I am pleased that my most soulful quilts are on display at Copper Country Mental Health.  I love that in order for you to see them, you have to be willing to step into a place where their work is to see your wounds.  

As an adult child who lived 46 years with unacknowledged abuse....by others AND myself, I find it poignant and perfectly fitting for my journey with Art Therapy, that my Art lead me there.

There is a line in the latest episode of "Call Me Mental" where she says, "I am my own client."  

 

I know exactly what she means.  I am walking with those who I am writing for or when I am talking at workshops...I am speaking to me.  I am one of them!

My last two blogs have gotten comments that brought with them new realizations.

One being the idea of "Moving forward or leaving the past behind."

As I sat with the sentiment of how my family sees me as stuck for the past 10 years with the abuse, I have actually moved on.  I see them stuck in the patterns of abuse, doing what has been done for generations within my family tree. 

And, while they think I am stuck with the 'issue' of abuse, I am actually processing and letting go....as well as changing my actions and my thoughts and beliefs.

I am not stuck....they are.

It was incredible when I discovered the insanity of denial believing that they are moving ahead of the abuse, while they literally are engaged in its dance.

Meanwhile, as I write, blog, speak and do Art....am seen as the one still there.

While I have left the stage 10 years ago.

I am my own client of how you can overcome and get back your life and your power after abuse.

I have literally been walking myself back to me!

Unstuck and moving on!

Speaking of "Call Me Mental" this too was another symbol of my unstuckness.

I am on a documentary about mental illness and speaking about how sexual abuse affects the way our minds, thoughts and feelings develop....I am moving toward healing as I speak of it.  As I speak of how Art Therapy helped me raise my self-esteem etc.

I know that their minds will not allow them to see me as the one moving forward in a positive way....and that they are actually the ones stuck in the past, refusing to accept their responsibility in moving the abuse agenda forward.

While I am with my wounds and working toward recovery...I am speaking out.  I am setting up boundaries.  I am doing what is positive for a healthy recovery.  I am my own client in changing the pattern of abuse!

I am Moving On....positively....I have left the past and my old behaviors behind.

This is one of my very favorite works of art!  

And, this is my branch....

I moved....and changed direction!  Thanks Michele Cedarquist....I will treasure it always!

 

My Lady come to life....

With hot soothing water running over me, I felt deep sorrow. Sorrow for the child whose wounds go unseen.  Her great spirit and love unnoticed...instead made to feel like she is bad.

A life review of my Art flashed before my eyes...knowing the struggle to right myself from my broken self view.  How the Art has been leading me forward....

Brighter

Freer

More playful

Child like in its simplicity

Urging me to "Love Life" again...fuller wider stronger!

The broken child finding its worth again.

Knowing intuitively that my art is my self....my soul on display in fabric.  

Daring to express more and more...

Perhaps or maybe not....to show the world who I am.

I am not the broken bad child.

I am not how my father treated me.

I am not my experiences...

Art displaying my joy.

My peace

And love...

Resounding loudly....SEE ME!

CAN YOU SEE ME NOW....

LOUDLY I PROCLAIM...See ME!

I am colorful, unique, real, worthy.....

What even brings me more tears is how broken, small and scared I was as I began, to now be boldly on display...

In brilliance...

My Art is Me...in fabric

This is the me that was abused.

Then broken, rumpled and crushed....discarded.

Art's patience...its delight, excitement and urgings...continue to bring me forth in new colorful displays.  

Because of My Lady....I walk more confidently.

She has always seen the core of me...and dares me to bring her forth.

My Lady come to life!

Already broken.

I have been trying to corral my emotions for my mother, to see what their message is and how I felt about her as a child.  And the contradiction between who I saw her as and who she really was, are miles apart.

She isn't as clearly defined as my father.  His abuse has a name and profile...hers is much more camouflaged into normalcy and society, and her family, allow her to blend in nicely.

Thinking backwards into our relationship, I feel I was duped...and yet confirmed by my feelings.

My feelings towards her were lacking. The warmth and inner excitement and joy a child would naturally feel...were missing.  Again, it was my problem; a child who can't love or feel love or feel comfort and connection with a parent.

I lived for 46 years, believing I was the problem.

When your body can't love someone; it appears to be you.

She presented to me as a woman of high morals and values. Her Faith was her ruler in all of her life choices, and she'll be damned to set them aside....for anyone or anything.  She appeared to be large, strong and capable woman...a woman who knew what she wanted...and what she disapproved of.

Her church appeared to present to the world standards that were remarkable in their pureness.  And, she a faithful follower.

It appeared she refrained from the lesser evils of the world.

She arrogantly was blind to anything; but her way.

I guess, if I was honest; I was trying, either consciously or not, to emulate her.

She was my standard and pattern to follow.

There was a battle between my Self and then her way.

Often the two didn't match.

And her disappointment clear when I chose my self over her needs.

I also catered to her needs more often than not.

I was her right hand; the one she relied on and leaned on as she complied with the churches belief against birth control. Child after child arrived in our home.  

I was used to assist her as she faithfully followed the church.

I can't really go back to our very young years.  Or perhaps I can go back, I just don't feel young.

I feel like a mothering child.

What is the most basics of contradictions, is how she responded to the allegations, or show and tell, in my case...about my father's abuse and her response.

Or, the lack thereof.

This seems to be the most severe breach of her character.

Where was the strong moral woman when I needed her?

Early on I felt that the underlying value she holds... is her blindness.

And, now I would call it denial.

Her inability to see that which would compromise her life's choices.

In our last conversation there were two items not open for discussion.

Her husband and her Faith.

This is where her blindness was the darkest.

And this is the chasm where I fell.

She was unable to see my wounds, for they would have broken her 'love' relationship. And, she used her Faith to shore up the cracks when something threatened to expose a truth she couldn't bear knowing.

Even when my father was lodged in the Houghton County Jail on Sexual Abuse charges, she still didn't see Him.  She suggested we (her and I) had two different perceptions of him.  She...Believing there were two!

What emotions do I have for her....?

Frustration and disbelief at her arrogance of holding on to something that isn't there anymore...while disregarding what is.

She held on to the value of her relationship with my father; while throwing me away.

I believe, she thinks she can have both or hold value in both of us - My father and I.  Like we are the same....'her loves.'

Her failure to see her husband's abuse towards me, left me feeling unseen at the most needy time in my life.

It is interesting to view my little child self.

To see her innocent and how my father treated that....

And, then to see her wounded and how my mother treated that.

How broken she left me to take care of myself.

Turning a blind eye.

Unable to See who damaged me...keeping him as he always was Innocent; a hardworking, asking for nothing, kinda man....who clothed and fed 14 children, never complaining....

Reducing me than to someone who threatened her kind man...changing him into a pedophile.  How dare you, Beth Ann!

Her greatest acts of failure will be keeping him kind in her heart; loving him unconditionally against all proof otherwise.

Her greatest failure as a mother was/is not seeing the child and their needs.

Her needs, her faith, her love....came first now and always.

I guess the desire to be with her left me at 7.

I wasn't drawn to someone who failed to see me, a young child with trauma to her private parts.  Imagine this fear added to the already traumatized child.

Showing a wound...to be ignored.

Unseen...except for the predator that lives there.

Imagine the confusion. My monster is her love.

Where can we meet for commonality?

Again, where does the child stand in this insane landscape?

To be with my body's truth...is to know this. And, to live in my mother's world...there was no monster there; my body has lied.

I am saying something unkind. "If you don't have anything kind to say, say nothing at all..."  One of her favorite sayings.

Maybe I feel now that I am at least honoring my truth and my body.

I am openly saying and acting like 'something' happened.

That unlike my mother; I changed how I saw my world.

I see it as the woman I thought was so morally centered was an immoral accomplice to my father's abuse against children.

She was his right hand.

She covered up what he had done.

By not seeing it.

And we would be wrong for showing our wounds.

I am proof of this.

Who is on the inside of the family circle and who stands outside?

She is one of the ringleaders of the circle of abuse.

I will invite the feelings to arise today.

I don't know what was worse to have been innocent and then be abused or to be abused and seen as unwounded?

Perhaps the second traumatization didn't impact as much for I was already broken...

 Art heals the wounds..