• I've joined weight watchers. I've worked on creating a healthier approach to food and understanding that I am accountable with every food choice I make. The weight has started coming off and I am proud of it, even giddy when friends and colleagues mention it. It's certainly helped to get a better grip on my emotional eating.
• By understanding my relationship with Guilt and Shame, I've learned not to let my secrets hold me prisoner. I'm learning to see that my own desires, wants and needs are valid, and that I am equally accountable to nurturing them so that I can enjoy life's pleasures free of guilt and shame. 
• I've been traveling down memory lane these past few months, trying to reconnect with my lost self from a time long ago - trying to reconnect with her whimsical passions for reading, writing, the outdoors, debating, and reconnecting with my friends close, afar and from my childhood. By remembering my lost self, I'm remember what centers me and the destiny that I once longed for and realizing that there is no better time than the now to take those steps and go after that dream.

But from time to time, I am plagued with doubts and I fall back a few steps. There's a trigger and I experience a flashback. An acute attack of anxiety has me spinning and I feel out of control.  I fall back into old patterns of self-sabotage - eating until I am numb, wanting that pack of cigarettes, wanting oblivion, not wanting to do anything but sleep and never wake up.

This method doesn't always work. It's my mind's way of grasping control in anyway it can.

Being vulnerable is part of the process and acknowledging the root cause of the agitation and anxieties is a far better approach and method to moving forward. Intellectually, I understand this concept and that freedom can be achieved by surrendering to vulnerability, but it's still something that I struggle with internally and to put into daily practice. And as a rape victim, I struggle with that on a whole other level.

So for now, this is my perspective - by surrendering to one self, it dissipates the conflict and the feelings of agitation retreats until one is left wondering, what caused it in the first place?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
now...Now...NOW!
my mind tells me.
fly...Fly...FLY!
my instincts prompt me.
eat...Eat...EAT!
my body urges me.

...surrender, whispers the heart.

(Note: I've started reading poetry again and I thought I would use this medium to express myself.)

He had a fantasy.

He described in detail what he wanted...what he would do.
I told him no.

He kept pushing his fantasy.
And I pushed back - No!

He wanted his own key so that he could come and go as he pleased.
I said no.

He had come up to my door hoping that I had left it unlocked.
The red flags came up, but I ignored them.
I was in denial of the danger I was in.
I believed I could control the situation.

He would advance. I would parry. He would pry and ply me, I would dodge and counter.  But then what started off as something consensual one night quickly escalated into him fulfilling his fantasy.

I was pinned - literally - unable to make him stop.
And wondering where did it go wrong? How did I end up here?
I was left torn, broken, defeated, humiliated and shaken.

I was angry. This was never my fantasy.
He apologised - nothing short of passive-aggressive manipulation.
This cat and mouse game was over.
I severed all my connections with him.

But for the next few days, I would sleep in the spare room.
For the next few days, I would lie to my colleagues each time I winced in pain.
For the next few months, I would silently endure moments of anxiety and panic.
For the next few months, I would slowly withdraw into myself.

It's been 23 months since he last walked through my door.
I wish I could say my healing journey is nearly over...
I wish I could say that memories of that night no longer affect me...
I wish for a lot of things...

But it can't be undone...
For now, I struggle with the rising tide of emotions as I relive that night. It gnaws at my gut.
And I struggle equally to stay in the present and to keep moving forward.

Spring,

It's been a long winter and I haven't looked forward to your arrival with this much anticipation in years. Winter looked as if it would stay, and yet, you've arrived with such grace and charm that your fashionably late entrance is all but forgiven and forgotten. Ah yes, the change is nothing short of refreshing.

Needless to say, during old man winter's visit, I took a little hiatus from this blog. The endless cold didn't help my mood or disposition. There were many things I wanted to explore, but I couldn't bring myself to the task of writing. And so I avoided it, leaving myself to muddle in the hole in my sidewalk. And yet, my time in the hole wasn't without progress. Something shifted while I stewed in my little rut. Nothing seismic, but significant just the same.  I now feel a sense of purpose. I feel lighter. I feel as if I've let something go...and that makes me immensely happy.

With the arrival of a new season, I'm welcoming a new challenge. For the past three weeks, I've been committed to spring cleaning, both literally and figuratively speaking. Carpet cleaning, laundering duvets, washing baseboards by hand, dusting each book on the bookshelf, decluttering, washing windows...it has been an exhilarating feeling. But spring has also inspired me to clean house within - to declutter the mess around my authentic self, to tackle my nemeses shame and guilt, and usher in the hope that this path will lead me to self-forgiveness.

Self-forgiveness has always seemed something unattainable - it is a word I have often used, heard others speak of, but never really understood. Friends and colleagues who knew of my journey have often asked me, "Do you love yourself?  Do you feel you are worthy of love?" and I would respond without hesitation, "No". Sure, I was and am grateful for the life I have and all the people connected to it, but I struggled to know how to feel love for my self - as a person and as a woman. The talk shows and their message of "You have to forgive and love yourself" weren't effective - they were words, but not an answer. Dating and finding a long-term relationship were equally hallow attempts to move forward, but I would end up feeling humiliated when men would say, "You have to loosen up," or "I want someone who can open up and be honest."

Even more heartbreaking was when I hurt someone I cared about and he blasted, "Why can't you love me?"

Because...I don't know why.  In part, because of fear and I don't trust myself.

But that isn't really an answer either. I know I am capable of love.  But how could I fully open up, commit, and give what I didn't understand? How does one self-forgive? I struggled to find inner peace in the pursuit of happiness. My Type A personality (Miss Fix-It) would silently scream at this faceless obstacle, which was often guarded by the imposing Shame and Guilt. But even if I did, I had no key, no element, no talisman to break through the obstacle.

I don't know what prompted me to buy the book Radical Self-Forgiveness by Colin Tipping, but this has been one of my self-help books that has sat on my coffee table collecting dust for years. Back then and up to a few months ago, I believed I would "get to it, one day." Well, I finally "got to it," and I have found the resource that provides me the perspectives and exercises to help me maneouver through this maze of self-forgiveness. To start, Tipping offers this perspective in what is required in forgiveness:

The term forgiveness implies that there has to be one who forgives as well as the one being forgiven. It requires a subject (the forgiver) and an object (the forgiven)...When we are forgiving others, that condition is met...but not so with self-forgiveness. [With self-forgiveness] The one who forgives (subject) and the one being forgiven (object) are one and the same...in acting as both the forgiver and the forgiven, we are trying to be prosecutor, judge, jury, witness and defendant all in the same case!

Ah yes, our inner court system with all the personalities that run the inner working of our mind, heart and spirit. Tipping identifies three members of our internal committee:

1. The resident judge: has the loudest voice, always says you are wrong, why you feel the weight of guilt
2. The critical parent: always scolding, withholding love as punishment, shames you, self-esteem suppressor
3. The inner lover: lives in your heart, loves you, tolerant, forgiving, compassionate, mediator

In learning about the interactions of these three sub-personalities, the words about the critical parent spoke to me the most and I realized, it was the secret that I have kept from myself for a long time:

Secret Reveal #7: I don't love myself because I withhold love as a punishment.

It's such a simple thought and perspective and yet, it held the power to shoot me out of my hole in the sidewalk like a cannonball. And I've landed on my feet. I admit, throughout much of life, I have done things to seek validation and approval from others, but I've never been able to do that for my self. This awareness has provided me unravel my past beliefs and begin remapping things with this new perspective. It's like playing a video game and I've gained a "power-up" for my healing journey. Self-forgiveness and loving my self no longer seem so daunting a challenge, but something possible and attainable.

And like the arrival of spring, the arrival of this new Self is refreshing.

"A closet is a hard conversation, and although our topics may vary tremendously, the experience of being in and coming out of a closet is universal..…you may feel so very alone, but you are not...no matter what your walls are made of...there are others peering through the keyholes of their closets looking for the next brave soul to bust a door open, so be that person and show the world that we are bigger than our closets and that a closet is no place for a person to truly live."

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.