Dirty Laundry

There will be those of you who feel that I am airing my dirty laundry in public.  That I am telling family secrets, things that should stay secret.  That I have some kind of hidden agenda for my family.  Let me now lay all of this to rest.

Am I airing my dirty laundry in public?  That Is for you to decide.  But I can tell you this having been a house wife for most of my life.  That at some point dirty clothes start to stink.  And if you are not careful the wet ones will start to grow mold, make heat, and make you sick.  Honey at some point you’ve got to get yourself a box of wash powder and go to work!  It’s just the facts of the thing!

Yes I have dirty laundry.  Some of it is mine and some of it has belonged to other people over the years.  It has just been dumped in with mine.  I am now sorting thru what is mine, what’s  theirs and deciding what I can salvage, and what needs to simply be thrown out or burned with the trash. 

I sat down to write and put a few ideas on paper, for a few friends.  It has ended up being a book mainly about my life.  I have spent these last few months retelling these tales to yes warn you, to show you the goodness of the Gods and their affect in my life.  Yes I have set out to publicly humiliate a few people.  Those are the ones’ who’s full names I have listed in my works.  Because I could find no other way of ever getting justice for actions they did to me.  Others have had their names changed or only partially mentioned, as I am trying to protect them and those around them.  But I still want you to hear the story. 

In writing these stories, I have also been going thru old pictures.  I use the pictures to trigger old memories and remember what I was feeling back then.  I am trying to look for the origins, of why and when I began to feel anxiety about the world around me, and when I began to have my first panic attacks.  Writing this has been cathartic and therapeutic for me.  I have found there is not one beginning but many, like warp and weft when you weave.  It is all built upon each other.  Each strand having it’s own starting point, and an end point.  All of this lends itself to the final work.  It is my guess your stories will be similar in their mechanics. 

I learned long ago in 12 step programs that our secrets keep us sick.  And it is true.  To keep something secret, I feel in many ways poisons us and sets us up for illness in our life.  Since I left Mike I have vowed to tell the truth about life, and the whole truth.  Even if it hurt the ones around me, because I never wanted another person to suffer as I have, with abuse, being used or being repressed in such a way that their mind begins to betray them.  The way in which some people behave, to others they say the love or care for, should be criminal.  We must all learn to seek enlightenment and change how we treat our fellow beings.  Every day I wake up, I try to do better, to say I apologize when I am wrong, and to learn from not only my life experiences, but the experiences of others.  I think that is why it so important to listen to the stories of those around you.  You never know when it will become a teachable moment.  I am not perfect, I never have been and I never will be.  I have my flaws and inconstancies just like anyone else. 

I have no hidden agenda in my writing about the people in my life.  My father will never enter AA.  My mother will never have a clue.  Michael Liberto will never apologize for what he did to me.  Paige will never give me Jelly back.  And I hold no hope that any of the above will ever happen.  I have not written all of this, to force them into anything of the sort.  These ships have long since sailed.  No matter how much I may desire such a thing, I have long ago had to give up hope that any of these people will ever change their ways. I must accept my responsibility in each and every thing that has happened in my life.   I must accept each person in my life where they are.  I have encouraged them where I can.  And in many cases I have moved on.

I recently received a message from D.  She wished to speak with me and apologize. And also to let me know, where I misconstrued some of the things that happened between us.  I know her.  She is a snake.  Trying to slither back into my life and convince me, that the truth as I understand it is flawed.  I hear her rattles and know enough to stand my ground, so as not to be struck again.

I decided early on, that should I have people come back to me, and wish to revise MY truth that I would not allow them.  You cannot speak for me!  You cannot interpret the world for me!  This is my truth as I have experienced it.  No one can experience my life for me.  The way we interpret our lives is filtered through a life time of experiences, good or bad.  No one has the right to come to you and say, “I am sorry, but the way you understand what happened is wrong.”  They will have their own way of seeing their life, and it will not be the same as yours.  Our culture, the period of time we lived threw, those around us, our demographics, our gender, hell even our religion plays a part in the way we color our world. 

So in conclusion, no one has the right to tell you that, how you understand your world is wrong.  We are all different and we will all see our lives thru our own lens.  You have every right to feel and believe the way you do, even if someone believes it is wrong.  Keep writing, keep talking and keep fighting.  You will get thru this. 

Ilsa