IMPERFECT Lady

Maria Shriver's Sunday Paper

A friend sent me a message about Maria Shriver's Sunday Paper -

https://shrivermedia.cmail20.com/t/ViewEmail/t/73978F1AB77BEF982540EF23F30FEDED/9247327A674C7A1DCE63909E3969C05F?fbclid=IwAR3SlSmlh5Lb4eRa4lsn0Tc3I1UP02EYglZzSHUnY5l-HfZMjNTb2sIke04#fr

On this Sunday, she writes about our super power.  How it is kind of like our cape.

Which then begs each of us to wonder, what is our super power?

 

I wondered further if our super powers change as our lives change, as our circumstances need different super powers. And can we acquire new ones as we challenge ourselves.

It is hard to self recognize a super power within you.

At least for me.

 

My cape has been through some tough stuff, and it has been caught up in tight places.

The hardest part is using a new super power for the first time, it feels so unwieldy at first.

And, it can feel like we are an imposter, posing as a badass.

 

I would think my biggest super power is to be at one with the truth of life.

That, I can wade into it, no matter its contents.

I may flounder a bit if the news is really heavy, but eventually I can find my footing.

Another super power is my ability to be with others as they journey in to some rough waters.

And, the ability to laugh at myself.  Seriously, I find that the most humorous of all, the crazy things I misconstrue.

Authenticity and tenacity and resiliency are also capes I wear.

Oh, and adventurous and the willingness to look silly trying new things.

 

I love this exercise, it helps you see how badass you truly are, and how human.

And, maybe we need to remember to help each other remember their super powers!

Wear your cape proudly!

Super powers are the ways in way we can see how unique and powerful each of us are.

 

 

Reality that isn't Talked About

Secrets- "something that is kept or meant to be kept unknown or unseen by others."

"something that is not properly understood; a mystery."

 

I believe I have always thought, that secrets were known. That we had to know a secret to be quiet about it. It was an agreement to keep something unknown and hidden; but that we all knew what it was.

Is it possible to be party to keeping a secret just by the fact we don't probe and question?

Nor did I know, the things that were mystifying were also secrets.

 

It wasn't until my granddaughter asked me about my mother, did I realize profoundly, how secrets are propagated.

The spreading happens, when silence or half truths or complete lies are told, creating a reality that doesn't really exist.

Most in my family of origin would say, that there are no secrets, that we all now know that our father was a pedophile.

But, what I believe most will not do, is share this history with the next generation. 

 

And, what would prompt it?

If, their relationships have remained unchanged, if life has more or less gone on the same from the time of my father's trial, what is there to question?

 

There was nowhere in my childhood/young adulthood, where sexual abuse was discussed. Nowhere were generations before me telling me about the cycle and history of sexual abuse.

No one was talking about what happened, and what would have been a better tactic to prevent future abuse.

And, even more importantly, who was abusing, who had been abused etc, and how to keep this generation and the next safe. What was healing and wholesome and healthy after experiencing abuse.

Nothing.

The silences were profound in the absence of talking.

 

There were women I looked up to in our family.

Yet, these same women were silent.

Secret keepers.

Protectors of a reality that would have been good to know.

Or, more the gatekeepers of a reality that didn't exist.

 

Growing up among the secret keepers, there is an unwritten rule about what is okay to question and what is not.

Which brings me to my last conversation with my mother. I went to see her upon her request.

One of the first things she said was that her religion was not to be discussed and that more or less we were not going to discuss my father.

These were her sacred cows, the places she was unwilling to explore and know more about.  Is it a coincident that the abuser, and her tools to forgive him were not to be explore or questioned.

Didn't that make her the queen of secret keepers, at least in regards to my father.

 

I wonder now how she truly sees me.

 

Instead of looking at the secrets, she looked at me.

 

In Rachael Denhollander's book "How Much is a Little Girl Worth", she writes about the willingness to stand against abuse, equals the willingness to give up say your religion or spouse, or school or organization, in which it lies.

My mother's inability to give up her ideas of her husband and religion, disallowed her to explore any avenue of sexual abuse.

Perhaps what hurt the most, is the reality of who she actually was.

In the words of Rachael, how much is a little girl worth, or more many little girls.

In fact, it is often said, it takes hundreds of little children to make someone change their minds about a person and/or religion/organization.

 

Maybe the biggest secret there was, was who my parents truly were. They gave off an image that contrasted the reality of what truly lay beneath.

Which is why, I am so adamant about walking the talk.

 

The echoes of the "How is that working for you" remark my brother threw at me, lands so differently than how he sees it. 

Living in unison and harmony with reality allows for everything.

Nothing is off limits.

 

Are secrets a non-reality maker?

A pretend starter.

Let's pretend that this didn't happen and return to 'normal'.

In my mother's world, the forgiveness of sins worked remarkably well, it allowed her to have the reality she wanted. No sexual abuse stuck to it. It was quickly removed and sent to the sea of grace, where it wasn't to be mentioned again.

The forgiveness of sins, is a way that you remove from your reality, the truth of what is.

Secrets are just reality that isn't talked about.

 

No Secrets

"How come you never talk about a Mom, do you have a Mom?" asked my 4 and a half year old granddaughter?

"I do have a Mom, but I haven't talked to her in many years," I said.

"You could call her", she said.

"Yeah, I could, but I don't want to", I said.

Why, she asked.

I then told her that when I was a little girl, some bad things happened, and my mother didn't do things that would have helped.  I didn't go into details. I just then talked about how little children need adults who will help them when bad things happen.  That little children shouldn't be left alone to be in their hurt.

I told her I would never leave her alone if she was hurting.

She agreed and gave me a Hug.

"I love you grandma", she said.

"I love you too", I said.

 

As we then continued to work on parts of her Halloween Costume, it came to me, that I would much rather be on this side of the conversation. I am not sure I could handle the opposite.

How would it be to try and explain in a reasonable account of being okay, or complacent, and even apathetic about sexual abuse to a child.

I think, many people believe, if they themselves are not party to the abuse, BUT are there, it isn't 'as bad'. 

I feel good knowing, I won't have to have that conversation - of knowing, but not reacting.

 

She also asked about brothers and sisters. I told her I had many, but that I no longer talked to them. She again, asked why?

I told her, there were various reasons for each of them, but that it all came down to being with people that I trusted.

That sometimes, you choose not to be with people who don't make you feel safe.

She accepted that.

I again, felt good being able to show her I have boundaries.

That I am able to discern who I feel safe with.

I love the image of having someone older say to you, I have boundaries.

It is okay to not be with everyone.

It is okay to feel unsafe and stay away.

It is okay to set up boundaries and end relationships.

It is okay to honor your feelings.

 

I had wondered how the conversation would go, if and when, a grandchild asked.

The conversation flowed into our space of creating, and was allowed.

No secrets were formed or kept.

It was all allowed into the light of day.

There is a podcast, "Family Secrets" by Dani Shapiro.  And, it shows how secrets alter a child's life, EVEN if they are unaware of them.  

I love how my 4 and a half year old, noticed and asked.  

Noticed, that I didn't have a family.

But, that grandpa did.

She wondered.

We think little ones are unaware - when often they are picking up on small details.

No matter what is the reality in our worlds, it is best everyone knows how things are.

It is the unknowing - or having to keep a secret, or not being able to talk about things that are not pleasant, that distorts us.

It doesn't change reality, it changes who we are.

I want my grandchildren to know that I came from a family of secrets, that I had things that were unknown to me. And, that there were things we didn't talk about.  And, I am not willing to propagate that into my family.

There is nothing I will not talk about.

No secrets to keep, or to hold, on my limb of the family tree.

You can talk to me about all things, always.

 

A healthy family carries no secrets. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Know My Name"

I finished reading "Know My Name" by Chanel Miller, a victim of sexual assault.  You perhaps know her perpetrator more than you know her.  Brock Turner assaulted her. She was admittedly blacked out from drinking.  

This book shows the landscape of victims.  How the justice system works to suppress and minimize the victims, while being so expansive and generous to the perpetrators.

Her being unaware of her abuse did not lessen its affects.

Just as children who block it out or whose mind's don't record it are similarly affected just as deeply.

If you wonder why more victims don't come forth or why there are not more trials for sexual assault, you may become more informed reading this.

I began listening with a curious mind.

I wanted to know about the girl in the news.

Her victim statement has been read millions of times, and her video seen by thousands.

 

We all need to know more about these crimes and we are educated more, each time a victim shares her story.

Thank you for showing us who you are and how sexual assault alters who you are.

 

 

All perfect

This Fall weather is simply breathtaking. It is actually hard to go to work, ignoring the facts of what glorious things I could be doing outside.

I drove along the lakeshore and whimpered at the lake, the colors and the fresh fall air.

Feeling sorry for myself as I tossed mail.

Until I had to make a delivery at a home.

The woman who came to the door was in the midst of cancer treatment, and told me so.

She spoke of her treatment, and how it appeared that 'it wouldn't get better'.

My petty anguish vanished.

Certainly, it would have been a delightful day to be on the water.

However, it is more incredible to be healthy.

She stayed with me.

She was smiling, and very accepting.

While I was fighting the mail delivery - instead of kayaking.

I learned there are often many places we would rather be, and even different lives.

I was so grateful to be me.

I settled into the mail.

Fairly sure I will kayak again.

Perhaps not today.

Today, I am grateful to be healthy, and to be so very lucky to be enjoying the fall weather, colors and smells.

I am going hiking with ladies shortly.

I sat in an outdoor cafe and worked on my art.

Life is good, it is incredible.

Today.

May I always remember that health is so very important, and when I get spunky about having to work instead of play, may I get reminders to bring me back in focus.

She rode with me today.

I held her in my heart.

Vowing to live more in this moment with my health.

My health has allowed me a ton of incredible memories. Just in this past summer alone, or even week.

First Health and the rest is all perfect.

 

 

 

 

With Change Comes Loss

I heard on a podcast, that with change comes loss.  

Doesn't that make sense?  

I think harder than adding something new, is losing something old.

 

Giving up a part of your life that has become comfortable, even in its discomfort.

 

As our trees turn color, we are experiencing the change of seasons.  One season is over and it leaves, and a new one comes in.

 

We lose Summer for Fall.

We can fight it in our minds, but nature changes - naturally.

 

As we endeavor to change our lives, we may fail to recognize the grief of losing something, as we reach for something new.  

In the waking up to my sexual abuse, I had to let go of the idea of who I thought my family was.

Lost the cocoon of denial, for the sharp reality of truth.

Letting go of the whole package of family and its dysfunctional wrapper, was by far harder to do, than reaching toward an unknown future.

Behind me was a Me, I used to know as well. 

With me as I changed was grief and uncertainty, and a self that was unfamiliar.

The new pattern that I was hoping to bring into the generations after me, was knitted together by each action I took, each No spoken, and every relationship I challenged.

Looking at the overview of my life, I can see that change truly does come with loss.

Patterns are not changed without a loss.

 

Which I believe is why most people don't change.  It isn't the new unknown future, but having to say good-bye to the old.

Even if it is toxic, they know it and know how to navigate within it.

You also know who you are,  even if it is a stressful role in a dysfunctional relationship.

 

To walk away from all that you have known, and to allow yourself to be standing on a pinpoint of nothing is very scary.

You cry for the past as you step into the unknown, a stranger to yourself.

 

We find comfort in the knowing.

And, it is very uncomfortable to not know who you are or where you are going, and do it anyway.

Perhaps, in the case of abuse, it was easier to go, than it would be to stay.

Once you know the landscape of abuse, and all its unrealities, and perceptions that are wrought with lies, it is impossible to stay and feel secure, or at peace - let alone loved.

 

Walking as a person, who cast aside her past, in order to start a new pattern was overrun with emotions.

My insides held the contrasting emotions of grief and freedom.

The leaving was bitter sweet as they say.

 

The woman I was, who drove the car, allowing my children to be with a pedophile, was horrifying to know. She had to go.  Her beliefs, thoughts and values, were not healthy. My resolve to change, and to redefine myself led the way.

Once you are aware of your unawareness, you can no longer pretend to pretend to pretend, that being in the circle of abuse is okay, on any level.

I was very strict in what I allowed or didn't allow.

My new pattern's core was love and freedom, peace and joy. 

First for myself, and then for others.

Change isn't an overnight event.

I had to slowly let the old me die, while birthing a new one.

Saying good-bye and hello.

The cost of not changing, was to repeat the abuse, by allowing it to happen - unchanged and yet knowing.

What I believe causes most people to not react when they hear about an abuser they know, is that they don't want to lose what they have.

Lose a family

a friend.

Lose a way of life, a church and faith, a familiarity and core of home - all of which holds a part of you.

 

It isn't the abuse you are unwilling to let go; but yourself.

It isn't seeing a new reality that terrifies, but that you may have to let yourself go and redefine a new you.

With change comes Loss.

 

Abuse is passed on from generation to generation, mostly because we don't want to lose who we are and become someone we don't even know.