a facebook friend request...
a short email note...
i'm hanging suspended in this emotional limbo...

but to understand my state a little, rewind the film reel...

Timeline - Jan 2015
sitting on a futon in my friend's apartment, i sat listening to her talk about the man she wanted to be with, but couldn't, the back and forth reasons, emotional outbursts, the justifications, the back story of how it came to be and not to be. classic break up emotions to which i assured her, the feelings are normal and that it was okay to grieve the end of a relationship. i also shared my own experience and views that when one breaks up with someone, you can't instantly go from boyfriend/girlfriend to become "just friends".  our minds may try to convince us of it, but our irrational emotions don't follow the same logic. my friend bemoaned how she couldn't stop texting her ex and how she hoped he wouldn't text her back.  and i listened to her recite their text exchange, i asked her if she realized that she was the one instigating the ongoing exchange, fueling the drama, and did she realize it?

for those of us who have been emotionally and psychologically bruised and abused, not being able to control a situation is something hard to accept. what started as a means to protect ourselves emotionally has become our worst self-sabotaging tool. to give oneself the space and time to heal, one must sometimes sever ties after a break-up, to gain that perspective, and to be able to let go of the emotional baggage. when enough time has a passed and the tangent connections of the past reconnect, then yes, perhaps the "friends" zone is possible.

Timeline - Feb 2015
my past reached out to reconnect. a simple message.

"I won't lie.  I do miss my Winterlude sushi. Hope you're well."

i don't know how many times i re-read that phrase, the past guilt and shame washing over me. there was also a hint of excitement. but i was now having to practice what i preached.  had enough time passed for my past and i to return and be friends again? was my self-respect, pride and self-worth intact? how many steps backward would i be taking if i did reconnect with my past?

my situation with him is one of my greatest regrets and shame.

Timeline - March 2011
we were friends and industry peers. we would text, write, talk...with jokes that often bordered on the naughty. st-patty's day, i crossed that friendship line and drove to his house. as i drove, my mind tried to reason with desire. i wanted a lasting and authentic relationship - and to do that, i knew i would have to be honest with him - no matter the consequences. but when he kissed me, i was lost and my intention to disclose my STD status before having sex with him didn't happen as i had planned.  poor timing and judgement on my part - i told him while having sex (note: condoms were used). not my proudest moment.

his reaction was, well, understandable. i stood in the room silent. utterly ashamed. and in the midst of the chaos and his tirade, he asked me a question "Why won't you love me?" i couldn't answer him. afterwards, i would write him an apology, but what we had was over and there really wasn't anything that i could do to fix things. we ended all contact. and for that, i am grateful. although at times, i feel i took the coward route by running away from the situation.

Timeline - 2013/2014
it has always bothered me how things ended that st. patty's day night. my whole behaviour and reactions, or lack there of, bothered me. that hole in my sidewalk was my solace for a long time - i stopped going out, i removed myself from the local music scene in fear of facing him. it wasn't until i was in counselling that i finally gained some perspective about what was bothering me...and it stems a lot in what was not voiced.

as a father, i respected him.
as a musician, i admired him and was proud of him.
but as a man, i loathed him.

his question then: why won't you love me?
my answer now: because when i am with you, you make me feel i'm only worth a pussy and a secret.

after a naughty text, phone calls or chats at the bar, he would end things with "just between you and me, right?" my stomach would knot. as i would replay those memories, i would later realize that whenever he would end our communication with those words, i would feel like i was 14 years old again with the family friend telling me that what he was doing to me wasn't true love but just a game, and to be kept as a secret.

i had shared this part of my past with him before. in hindsight, i don't know if he really remembers me telling him, but as my friend, i expected him to remember and put two and two together, be compassionate and considerate. but no, i was simply a secret to him too.

Present day
"well maybe sometime we can get in touch, catch up."
with the FB messages and emails, I was ready to run back, serve humble pie, and do anything to patch up our relationship. i won't lie...i also wanted the satisfaction to say all the things written above and sticking it to him.  but last night, a good friend of mine talked some sense into me.

her advice and wisdom: what will instigating a meeting up with him achieve? and what if he doesn't react the way you want him to? you already have your closure. you may WANT to tell him things, but you don't NEED to. there's a difference. don't set yourself up just for the sake of telling him things - you can't control the outcome, but if you do run into him again, just let it happen.

i'm happy he's reached out and i do hope that there is a way forward for the two of us...but i don't need to get on that roller coaster ride. my emotions and state of mind are standing on the same firm ground...and there is no plan to stray from my journey. just the simply awareness and to be able to practice what i preach is a reward in itself.

Not a full week passed before the social media and news stratosphere exploded with the next sensational item.  From attacks on our Canadian soldiers and symbols to the now infamous essay by a former CBC host and the subsequent media blitz, it's been a very difficult week.  My emotions are on edge and I wish nothing more than to crawl into my little hole in the sidewalk. 

While the former inspires my sense of courage and resilience, the latter only triggers the memories and thoughts of my recent past, and the knot in my stomach just clenches tighter and tighter.

He may have gotten his side of the story out first, but being the aggressor, it's his way of manipulating the situation to maintain and control the power imbalance. At least, that's my view of it.

In some ways, I resent having all this media focused on this topic - I don't want to be thinking about it.  I don't want to feel the things I'm feeling, in particular, the sense of shame that weighs deep within me. A part of me is trying to stay objective - I don't have all the facts, I don't know the full story of either sides, so how can I be in position to judge and lay verdict?  I know that we have an opportunity here to engage in dialogue, discussion, and demand action that will bring about meaningful change in our societal attitudes and how we treat one another, regardless of consent.

I hate this kind of vulnerable...I'm focused on not letting his story or their stories deter me from my own healing journey. It's easy for me to feel compassion for these women, because it hits close to home and what I've experienced.  But I hate how shame is creeping back in...I hate how it's smirking at me. 

To consent or not to consent...

I did not consent.

I didn't consent 25 years ago. 

I didn't consent 19 years ago. 

I didn't consent 2 years ago.

But I am still here...feeling exposed, shaken...eventually, I'll get the perspective that I need to overcome all this...but for now, it's just one day at a time...

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.

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.

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.