I like to write. I don't know if I love it. Perhaps it's more that I need to write. It's a means to sort out my thoughts and feelings - deriving perspective and clarity out of the chaos that I concoct around me. Writing started as a 3rd grade assignment, and I would write about anything and everything - I took to paper like a fish to water. Thoughts, words, expressions, descriptions, plots, character, observations - I would fill out the pages of my notebooks.

Do you have your own set of commandments that you follow?

Yesterday marked the 24th anniversary of the National Day of Remembrance and Action on Violence Against Women.  For years, I've observed this day with detached deference - always thinking of the 14 women, the police officer who responded to the call only to learn that his own daughter was one of the victims, and the senselessness and selfish act of one man.

I think of all the other women who have suffered or survived violence and I would send out a silent prayer of love and courage out to the universe.  Oddly, I would never include myself - my blinkers of denial and shame kept me from seeing or feeling things.  I was 14 years old when the Montreal massacre took place, and I remember reading and watching the news with avid attention. It was sensational, and all the news media were on fire. It was a defining time as a teen - this was something closer to home - it wasn't Hollywood and the reality of it was there was a collective sense of innocence lost. Little did I know then, a few weeks after this event, danger lurked in the shadows and I would experience the first of a series of unwanted sexual attention and manipulation, setting in motion my patterns of disassociation, secrets and hyper-vigilance.

But this year has been different and as I thought of the women, I felt a stronger sense of solidarity and ownership of the significance of this day.  It's as if the cloaks of shame and guilt have fallen off my shoulders so that I can stand with the other women.  For the first time, my heart, mind and soul shout out in unison, "I refuse to accept any more of it."  I am not alone in my suffering.  I was/am a victim of a violent act.  I was/am a victim of manipulation. And further more, I no longer want to be silent.

I'm reminded of the song The Reason by Hoobastank.  It is one of my anthem songs. My therapist had me memorize the lyrics, repeat the words over and over again and letting them touch an emotional place within.  In the beginning, this song would bring forth a flood of tears and pain, but now I find solace, reassurance and hope:

I've found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
And the reason is you.
I've found a reason to show
A side of me you didn't know
A reason for all that I do
And the reason is you.

Changing my own personal narrative of my circumstances has helped me to see things with greater clarity.  I feel more grounded.  I feel more assured than I have ever been in years as I continue to confront my past and my present so that what comes next will be a better tomorrow.

It's beautiful outside today...first main snowfalls of the season and there is a pure yet rugged feel to it all. The snow is cradled in puffs by the tree branches but every so often, when the tree can no longer bear the weight of the snow, the branch gives a little tug and releases the snow.

I'm inspired by this view. It's been a productive few weeks since my last post - I feel I have momentum on my side and I'm loathe to let this opportunity slip through my fingers. There have been a number of "Aha!" moments as well as acceptance that have aided immensely in uncovering my authentic self.

Shame is a topic I've been exploring and for me, this is a topic that I found most difficult to voice.  I know my shame, I cradle it like precious cargo. I've also treated it like a companion or something comforting like tea and cookies. And all the feelings that arise with my shame, I've kept them locked in a vault. And so this past month, I have faced them through visual exercises - drawings, post-it notes plastered against my wall, and in my journal writing. It's often been a confusing and anxiety ridden experience. I have a number of records that I play on my broken record player inside my head that make it hard for me to really see and uncover the truth.  Here are some of my top ten records:

• "I'm broken. I'm damaged."
• "I'm not worthy of love."
• "I'm only worth a secret and pussy."
• "This isn't true love.  It's just a game."
• "I have to work hard and prove myself because I'm not good enough."
• "I'm not desirable. I'm ugly."
• "I have to stay in control."
• "I'm a bad person."
• "I'm invisible."
• "Don't let the secrets out...let the world think I am OK."

All my past abuse and rape experiences are my shame, but the result of one of the past experiences deeply affects me still and it's a secret I've buried deeply for a long time.

Secret Reveal #5: I am not disease-free.

18 years ago - He was my first sexual partner and as a young woman, I was both naive and ignorant. I was self-conscious and lacked the confidence to stay firm about what I wanted, one of which was safe sex. I thought saying "NO!" would be sufficient enough and that he would listen to me. But when I didn't play along with what HE wanted, he would become aggressive, and that night was no different...he pinned me down and was deaf to my pleas. The result - I ended up going to the campus clinic and the doctor diagnosed me with genital herpes a week later. I was mortified. I was shocked. I was angry. I was hurt. I was ashamed. When she asked me if I knew who and how I had contracted the virus, I replied in matter-of-fact tone and described what happened. She asked me if I wanted to speak with a counselor and I said, "No thank you. I'll be all right."  In hindsight, I wish the doctor had been more persistent and insist I speak with someone about my experience. Back then, friends said I should have reported him and the date-rape to campus police. I wish I had listened and acted on all their advice.  But I couldn't. The chains of shame already claimed me as a prisoner.

Present - I shared this shame with the women of my therapy group last week - it is my scarlet letter. It felt good to release the weight...like the branches releasing the snow. Their compassion and support was truly appreciated in helping me face this shame aloud. And in acknowledging the shame and secret, it's given back a piece of myself. And hope.

About 18 months ago, I submitted an application to adopt a rescue dog. At the time, I simply wanted a dog, and after researching different breeds, I finally chose the west highland white terrier. I felt my life needed a change, a little shake up - and what better way than to open my home to a dog in need.

Then I got a different kind of shake up - I was raped.  All thoughts and desire for a pet went out the door.

About a month after the rape, I received a call that there was a westie in need of a forever home. I was flooded with excitement, fear, anxiety, joy, happiness. I was also plagued with doubts. Was I doing the right thing? Will I make a good dog owner? Can I do it on my own?  Can I give him what he needs?

Hewey's first night - tired and a little overwhelmed

Before I went to pick up my dog, I spent a lot of time searching for a new dog name, finally choosing the name Hewey, the Scottish form of the old French Hugues, meaning heart, mind, spirit. The name felt right and it would come to represent what we are to each other, in particular as we both embarked on our respective healing processes.

As Hewey adjusted to his new environment and overcame his anxieties, I found my own courage to face my own past, my secrets, my fears and some hard truths. He has inspired my inner confidence, taught me to trust and be vulnerable, to value patience and the present, as well as showing me the meaning of unconditional love. He has provided me with security and stability during a time I was spiraling out of control.  He may have his independent and tenacious streak, but his affection and faithfulness has rescued me...and for that, I am truly grateful.

Hewey's 1 year adoptiversary

By the fall of 2012, I had started seeing a second counselor and my sessions were going well. I was learning to open up and share things more readily. I was learning what my triggers were. I was learning to deal with my hyper-vigilance. I opened up about my feelings of being out of control. But I was having difficulty accepting the healing process, as well as accepting that there was no clear path to thriver status. The more I tried to move forward, the more frustrated I was with my progress. So during one of my sessions, my counselor shared a poem.

No profound secrets to reveal in this post. Just feeling reflective and wanting to explore.

Of late, I've been thinking back to one of my crisis sessions from a year ago. We did a simple exercise where my counsellor would start a sentence and I had to complete it with the first thought that came to mind. It was a verbal exercise so I don't have a record of my responses. I found the exercise difficult, drawing a blank or feeling blocked with the majority of the sentences.  Except for one.

"I see man as...a little boy."

That phrase stuck with me. On the bus ride home that day, I kept repeating the sentence over and over and over again. Why did I respond this way? I texted one of my friends and asked her to finish the phrase and she came up with "I see man as...a rock...something stable, protective and reliable."


My romantic self agreed...that's the way I wanted to answer...to be able to see man as something solid, someone I could lean into, and someone who will shield me. But my impulse was still to see man as a little boy:

• a little boy can't hurt me 
• a little boy is innocent
• a little boy is giving and kind
• a little boy is lovable
• a little boy is beautiful

A little boy...there is no risk of feeling vulnerable, intimidated, or humiliated. There is no risk of feeling powerless or paralyzed.  In a little boy, I see the hope and potential of an honourable and loving man who he will one day become.  With a little boy, I have no fear...oddly, I feel safe.  On the flip side, I see myself as a woman who is the nurturer, the protector, the provider, the mother.

But I don't want a relationship with a little boy (I do want a boy, a child...but that's a future blog subject).  I want a relationship with a man...a rock, a mutual partner.  This skewed perception is one of my barriers that I need to overcome, and to be able to move beyond the distrust that I feel about myself and of men. I've challenged myself to not only spend more time with my male friends, but to openly communicate with them as well on how I feel about relationships, my past and what I'm going through.  As I do, I work through the feelings that arise. My male friends help me to look beyond the old negative set of impressions I have about myself and men. They are the same things my female friends have expressed to me, but in the current space I occupy, hearing it from my male friends means that much more.  It restores my faith that I thought lost - that not all men are assholes. I'm still working on setting the boundaries so that I don't improperly validate my sense of self. With each step, I also work on being honest with myself - I acknowledge my feelings and I work on sharing and being transparent about how I feel.

These days, the form of a little boy is transforming, and the outline of man is becoming clearer.  I'd like to think it's a work in progress...

This post has been percolating and brewing in my thoughts since the inception of this blog. I haven't been able to articulate what it is I want to say...so I write, edit and delete this post each time I sit in front of my computer.  Perhaps I'm just not ready to say what it is I want to say...but I push forward hoping that in writing, things will reveal itself.

The Internet is a fascinating and vast place. I believe there are a number of people who have queried words and phrases in search of answers. I know I do. I have this innate need to understand, to decipher, to unravel, to find...something, anything...that will help make sense of things, especially now more than ever. I can't remember what compelled me to google "child abuse" and "rape", but one night, I landed on the HAVOCA website. On their homepage was a table with the title "From Victim to Survivor to Thriver" by Barbara Whitfield.  Initially, when I read that title, I had already labelled myself a Survivor...after all, I was self-aware of my secrets and situation, and I had my "Type A" personality working on my behalf to ensure that my life was in control.

As I read through the Victim column, my head and heart began to spin. My inner ME began to silently scream, "Yes, yes, yes!  That's how I feel...that's what I do...THAT'S HOW I SEE MYSELF!"

There is truly nothing more humbling as an experience as when you face your shining honest self, and "denial" hurriedly scurries back into the shadows.  It was one of the most powerful moments in my life, the night I faced the hidden secret I kept from myself.

Secret Reveal #4: I am still a Victim
Some of the statements/phrases that resonated with me:

• I don't deserve nice things, 
• hyper vigilant, 
• damaged, 
• confused & numbness, 
• overwhelmed by the past, 
• my stories/secrets stay hidden, 
• I place my own needs last.

This revelation stunned me and yet, I also felt a sense of liberation. I realized, for the past two decades, I had NEVER acknowledged to myself that I am/was a Victim. I was so desperate to continue with my life and to project the impression that I was OK.  I got caught up with the idea of "I am a Survivor" that I convinced myself that's who I was. In doing so, I skipped a number of important steps in my healing process.

The chart certainly shed a lot of light into my own personal motivations, my behaviour in relationships and my approach to life.  But more importantly, it helped straighten the view and perceptions I had about myself that was created over 20 years ago...and hence, the re-writing of my personal narrative begins with this acceptance. I have yet to reach true Survivor status...I am striving for it, and with the help of my counsellor and now my group therapy sessions, I know I am well on my way towards that goal.

As I'd mentioned before, I really did believe that I could handle all the curve balls with a healthy dash of Xena and Oprah - mimicking strong women in control of their lives, successes and destiny. In my youth, I never sought help (although in hindsight I remember a campus doctor asking me if I wanted to speak with a counselor after I had described a date rape incident. I brushed her comment aside. I now wish she had been more insistent that I speak with someone).

Part naivety, part ignorance, I never read anything on the subject of rape, abuse, victimization or how one really heals from such traumatic experiences. It was definitely not discussed openly among friends and family. Instead I smiled through the pain, laughed when I was numb and lived for everyone but myself. When I was feeling low, I had friends tell me I was a Phenomenal Woman and I would read Maya Angelou's poem trying to convince myself I was.

I projected to the world an image of a woman in control of her life, but shame and guilt were like the devils sitting on my shoulders. I was terrified that the world would see through the smoke screen. There's a whole industry now helping those in search of happiness and finding their way to a more fulfilling life. I have a handful of friends and colleagues who have become certified life coaches or leadership consultants. One day, one of them offered me a free consultation and I thought to myself, "What have I got to lose?" 

The Wheel of Life, The Coaches Training Institute

I was given some homework to complete before our meeting - the Wheel of Life assessment. The Wheel covers eight areas:

• Physical Environment
• Career
• Family & Friends
• Significant Other/Romance
• Fun & Recreation
• Health
• Money
• Personal Growth

Rating myself in each of these categories with an honest perspective was hard. How I see and feel about myself is different from how I want the world to see me. My ratings ranged between 6 and 10...all except for one area of my life. After I completed the wheel, I sat back and looked at the flow - for the most part, it looked stable. Except there was a blip. Glaring from the page, I faced my shame.

Secret Reveal #3: Significant Other/Romance rating - 1 (lowest score).

My life coach asked me why I had rated Romance with such a low score. But I evaded his questions and talked in circles - I wasn't comfortable sharing my secrets with him.

When it came to romantic relationships, I was in denial and never confronted or acknowledged my past, which created a warped sense of what I wanted in a relationship and what part I played in a relationship:

• "What's the point?" - my attitude when it came to dating, relationships and sex, creating the destructive cycle where I would find myself with someone unsuitable further chipping away at my self-respect and self-worth.
• "I could rescue him! Then comes need, then comes love!" - my approach as I tried to validate my worth in a relationship, but I would still remain hopelessly distant as I didn't believe love was possible.
• "He must be powerful and heroic like Christopher Reeve's Superman/Clark Kent; honourable, just and good like Gregory Peck as Atticus Finch; boyish, devoted and loyal like Anne Shirley's Gilbert Blythe; funny and good father like TV Dads Dan Connors, Tim Taylor, or Steven Keaton; he must also appreciate the arts; and bonus points if he plays hockey!" - my impossible dream man living on a pedestal, can't possibly exist but I would keep looking and comparing.
• "I'm too busy" - I would keep myself busy with work and an active social life to prove that nothing was missing in my life.

I've always put ME last on the priority list - artists/causes, work, friends and family came first - so I never really dealt with my past experiences with abusive and manipulative men, nor the impact it had on me as a woman, both body and spirit. So many barriers - clearly irrational - but fully ingrained in my beliefs about myself.

I didn't continue my sessions with my life coach - he's an executive leadership coach - not quite the coaching I needed to help with my healing process, but he was gracious and respectful when I informed him I needed to seek help elsewhere. But I'm happy - the Wheel of Life assessment achieved its purpose - I was ready to do anything to raise the score in my romantic life. I was ready to tackle my past.

I was wrong...starting the second post is harder than the first. I've no outline for this blog, and being that I'm still new to all this, it's taking me a little while to find my own narrative voice.

I've kept a journal since I was 8 years old. So you'd think I'd know my own voice after 30 years of writing. But with my journal, i'm writing with only one reader in mind - myself. For work, I write a lot, but I often "borrow" other people's voices - I get in and get comfortable in someone else's mind, bringing to life their artistic visions and intentions.

But here, it's different.

I had a friend who used to perform in coffee houses covering popular rock and pop songs. He had a beautiful voice with this ability to sound like the artists who performed them -  an expressive Bono, to a raw and gritty Eddie Vedder. I asked him once if he would be performing any of his original songs. He replied, "No. I've been covering songs for so long that I don't know what my own voice sounds like." At the time, I thought that was a ridiculous answer, but I get it now.

When you keep secrets, the stories you share don't always mirror what you really want to say. For me, I coped by self-censoring everything I said, what I expressed, what I voiced. Most of the time, the narrative remained at surface level, and I navigated the world by presenting different voices and facets of myself. I've been doing this for so long that digging to find my own voice beneath all the layers of secrets, shame, guilt, and anxiety has been challenging.

A few years ago, I participated in a vocal workshop lead by Tyley Ross, a Grammy nominated recording artist, co-founder of the East Village Opera Company, and an instructor of voice at NYU's Tisch and Steinhardt schools. I was a classically trained opera singer in my youth, but a friend recommended that I take Tyley's workshop as a refresher. His approach to voice was different and required a greater awareness of body, thought and feelings. One of his exercises required everyone in the workshop to anonymously submit a secret. Each student was then assigned someone else's secret  for study and vocalization. We walked around the room freely, vocalizing in different ways - whispers, hisses, fast, slow, articulated, emotively. We said the secrets under our breaths, we said them to one another as we passed each other, we said them to the walls, we sang them.

The purpose of the exercise was to not let the body and mind hold you back from vocalizing what we would instinctively internalize. I don't remember the secret that was assigned to me - I never embraced it as my own. But I do remember feeling quite self-conscious yet detached when I ended up face to face with the person assigned with my secret. At the time, I didn't truly understand or appreciate Tyley's workshop - to give into the process and express, confront and release what holds us back or is blocking our lost voices. In hindsight, the secret I submitted was quite superficial in comparison to the others. But at the time, it reflected where I was at in my own personal journey and what I was coming to terms with.

Secret reveal #2 - My secret submitted for the voice workshop - "I'm in love with a clown."

Yup, that's what he does for a living - he works in a circus - red nose, clown costume, mini-bike, juggling, etc. There's a story there too, but that's for another day, another post...

My first blog entry, and I have writer's block already...

I'm overwhelmed by the sheer number of stories I want to explore, but on a journey of healing towards the authentic self, where does one start?

"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step ~ Proverb."

Many steps and missteps later, I still find myself on a winding tunnel by myself. Seldom have I invited others to join or follow me, preferring to believe I could do this alone. I would often say to myself, "If uncle Yanagi could climb Mount Everest at 71 years, 2 months and 2 days and break the then-Guinness World Record as the oldest climber to summit Everest, then my little hurdles should be manageable." As a young adult I would rely on my inner "Xena, Warrior Princess" to get me through my self doubts, fortified by the day-time talk shows of Oprah, Montel Williams, Dr. Phil and the likes.

And yet, considering how long I've been on this journey, my steps haven't brought me any closer to my own personal summit. I've faltered. Many times. My untouched self-help books "decorate" my coffee table. I'm plagued by the "why's & how's" of things. I see behavioural patterns repeat themselves but feel powerless to break the cycle. From time to time, I've been able to see life from different angles and perspectives, gaining those precious insight that help propel me to fight for a more fulfilling life.

A few incidents over the past few years however almost derailed me from my journey. But they've also provided the strongest reasons and motivations for taking steps outside of my comfort zone: to seek help, to be honest with myself and to commit to ME. One night in particular, after living through a terrifying experience, I became aware of an emotional regression and a familiar sense of detachment. I don't remember too much of the post-incident experience, but I do remember feeling as if I was teetering on a fence and needing to do something to "fix me". So I called the local crisis centre and made an appointment. In the beginning, I felt extremely awkward in my sessions. I even tried to justify why I didn't need to be there, believing that a few sessions talking to a professional would be sufficient enough to prop me up, validate me and then I could continue along my jolly runway of life.

With a lot of encouragement, I found myself delving deeper, the angles and perspectives slowly coming into focus. Some truths are hard to face but when they crystallize, it feels so right. For me, I realized that I've kept hidden so many "secrets" which were the very reasons for my inability to fully embrace my authentic self and live the satisfied life I so desperately desired. Armed with this honest view of myself, I began re-reading one of those self-help books I haven't been able to finish ~ The 100 Simple Secrets of Happy People by David Niven, Ph.D. Within the second paragraph of the introduction, I was struck by a saying from the author's psychology professor, Harry Gilman:

"Why play 'I got a secret' your entire life?"

Bazinga! Why do I play these games with myself? This phrase grounded my sense of being and gave me the momentum to share and reveal my secrets during my sessions and uncover things about myself. But outside in my daily life, I still felt like I a fake. I then came across Frank Warren's video on TED about his Post Secret project, inviting people to reveal their most deepest or embarrassing secrets anonymously. He begins his talk with this perspective:

"There are two kinds of secrets, the ones we hide from others, and those we keep from ourselves." 

Double bazinga! I felt like the window was flung wide open for me to see further out into the world and for the first time, i really sensed that my steps were leading me down the right path. I knew I kept secrets from others, and from this new angle, I began to understand the truths i had kept hidden from myself. This would be one of the many revelations to a stronger authentic self - standing between the inner me guarding all my secrets and the outer me who did her best to portray the successful Type A woman, but my life would never be whole unless I could merge the two selves. The Post Secret project and its anonymity offered one approach for a release. But in hiding a secret, one secret begets another, and another, and another...and that would require a lot of postcards to send to Frank Warren. So instead, I chose the personal blog option, determined to find my own creative ways to document and give voice to my inner stories. Knowing that I leave myself vulnerable and exposed has me terrified and a little anxious, but I also can't deny the sense of excitement and strong sense of purpose. I also know, the alternative to stay in a rut controlled by fear is simply no longer an option.

So which secret to reveal first? Well, lets take that first step:
Secret reveal #1 ~ I am a victim of child abuse, date rape and rape.