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.