...angles & perspectives...

Happy Non-Mother's Day

2019-05-10T23:31:00.000-04:00

sitting in my home office, i'm patiently waiting for the telecom agent to write back to me.
i'm on a "chat hold".
from time to time, the bottom of the chat screen reads Agent is typing.

i don't want a data plan on my phone...i'm strictly a talk and text gal, and agent sherwil is investigating and providing me with explanations. turns out the telecom giant changed my plan without my consent to a plan with a built-in data-provision.

hell no! those bastards!
thinking to lull me into using their data plan unknowingly and BAM...charge me extra fees to line their pockets...or worse, the thieves charge me the data-provisioning fee even though i don't use their data.

fuck you!

if i wanted the service, i can make my own decisions and choices thank you very much! i'm seething, but it's not agent sherwil's fault - and so i remain polite and mind my p's and q's, addressing him by name as often as i can. that's what a negotiator does right? try to make a connection to make the other person feel at ease? i accept the explanation he provides me and the reassurance that the data-provision is now blocked from my plan.

though a part of me wants to fight the $10 charge, it's really not worth my time and effort. my energies are needed elsewhere.

the emotions from this betrayal from my service provider is helping to keep me distracted from other thoughts and feelings. i want to ride this out a little longer...a mix of vindication and consumer righteousness. i found purpose and achieved it. (yeah!)

but it's all classic avoidance though from having to face the real issue at heart. earlier today, on the car ride home, i let the feelings of unworthiness, jealousy and disappointment wash over me. car rides and tears...there is something about driving alone in the car that often triggers me, and i don't know why. perhaps because being in a car alone i ironically feel safe enough to permit myself to be vulnerable, despite the potential risk of being in an accident if simple tears should turn into blinding tears and gasping sobs.

and lets not forget, the odd looks i would get from the other drivers...cuz as humans, we're drawn to staring at things we have difficulty processing. i know i would be curious as hell and wondering from inside my car..."why she crying? what's got her down?" and for the rest of the car ride home, i'd be directing a whole hollywood storyboard and netflix production in my mind. yes ma'am...i am the showrunner of my imagination. but i digress...

it's mother's day this weekend. but i'm not a mother. i have never been a mother. i have no dependents. so on such a weekend...women like me, what are we to do? how are we to be celebrated? especially those of us who have been trying without success. where's our hallmark consideration? and how do we voice it...voice our pain of not being able to celebrate being a non-mother and still acknowledge our desire for motherhood and to love as mother's love their family.

in recent years, on social media, i've seen more and more posts acknowledging how mother's day is not easy for all women, but it hasn't gone mainstream enough. and certainly, businesses and consumer economic drivers are clueless in their role in propagating the standard messages. my own mother isn't aware of my own struggles and desires for motherhood - her longstanding position being that should i become a single mother, it would be a problem. i've long accepted her disapproval on my choices to go it alone - but neither have i shared with her my attempts at trying to get pregnant over the past year. i'll be celebrating mother's day with her, all the while, working on holding it together - because either the day i do become pregnant, or the day i stop trying - only then, would i consider letting her in on everything i've done or tried to do to become a mother.

so to the women out there without children of their own...i wish you a happy non-mother's day and may you still be celebrated and acknowledged for being a strong female presence within your family circle.

what's one more month?

2018-10-21T12:22:00.000-04:00

the nurse returned my call.
i have an appointment with the doctor later this month and as a result, she doesn't think it would be appropriate to pursue any treatments this month. wait and see what the doctor prescribes, she says.

my heart tightens and i close my eyes to stem the tears.
waiting...again.
stupid blunted surges. fuck!

i'm angry and frustrated. the polypectomy this past summer hasn't resolved my heavy menstrual cycle and i can feel my flow gushing freely. wearing the heavy pads and using the ultra absorbent tampons isn't stopping the blood from soaking through my pants either. lovely. just lovely.

and now, my ovulation cycles aren't firing off, though a common reality in women my age.

but, one more month? i've come this far, having taken the tests, completed the recommended surgery, selected and ordered my donor sperm...and yet, i'm still in a holding pattern. i had hoped that i would have at least had a few treatments by now, but obviously the universe thinks otherwise.

my body is simply not in its optimal state - that's the reality. too many years of stress, emotional eating, trauma and recovery, have taken its toll and in truth, i'm a bit of a mess. and like many woman in my situation and age, the ticking clock is loud, which doesn't help our anxiety levels. patience isn't an ally in this case.

as i flip through my photo album, i find a picture that i took a few summers ago. in my parking spot, a lone plant grew from out of the pavement. despite the harsh urban setting, nature still found a way to adapt, grow and flourish. i remember, at the time, being in awe of the seed's resilience to set roots and its audacity to thrive alone in concrete.

so let's look at this from a different perspective, i tell myself. yes, the odds are against me, but it gives me one more month to continue with my commitment to do better by my body - focus on my physical health. eat cleaner, lose some weight, and lower my blood pressure. and yes, the doctor might have some other recommendations to help things along and those are all positives.

so, what's one more month?
it's a gift in time to set the stage for adaptation.

i can do it.
i have to do it.
and i'm not afraid to do it.

because i'm a priority in my life.
for the first time in a long time, i want something badly enough to make it happen.
because i have to believe that in making this choice, miracles will happen.
and...i just want the one miracle.
.

life moves faster than you think

2018-10-12T22:43:00.000-04:00

i look at myself in the mirror.

my eyes feel heavy...not with age, but with unshed tears. i study the pores, the wrinkles, the lines, the sun damage blotches that are painted across my cheeks - none of those bother me.

no, it's my puffy eyes. they are desperately trying to shield the world and myself from seeing too deeply.

there's a silent voice that speaks no words, but needs to be heard and understood. i keep busy and do all the responsible adult things, willing myself to be normal, but it's not working.

i need to sit and own this feeling...be truly honest, be truly raw and unfiltered. however, finding the right door to walk through isn't easy - i want a logical stream of consciousness, but instead, i find myself in a box with multiple balls and lasers bouncing off the walls and surfaces. i have no idea how to catch any of them, let alone follow and keep track of all their directions. and the more i try, the more i find myself mentally and emotionally bruised and burned.

i could walk out of this room and close the door behind me, but what i really want to be is radical - to see myself smashing the walls and glass to free everything...watch the balls and laser beams following their kinetic trajectory in full force.

the truth - i hurt.

i want a child. i want to get pregnant. i want to experience motherhood. but none of these things have happened yet - in part because i'm a master of sabotage and self-sabotage. my hormones are off and my ovulation cycles aren't launching properly. i have a 5% chance of getting pregnant, and like many woman my age opting for the IUI approach, i want to be part of the successful statistics. but there are so many factors that could turn this into a failure...and so far, i know i've unconsciously misguided myself with half-fast intentions and convictions.

old habits and old narratives die slow deaths.

2018 was supposed to be the year where I was to be more selfish. but life has been a blur...we're already in the last stretch of the year with the leaves finally starting to change. it won't be long before i'll be looking up at the last few stragglers still gripping firmly to the branches, almost daring me to reach up and pluck them to join their friends and family on the ground.

like the attached leaves, i'm still unwilling to let go, despite the universe telling me and showing me that life could be different. i want to dare greatly, but self-doubt and fear are old friends, turning my intentions of self-care into binge-eating, tv watching and social media addictions.

that's what's behind the puffy eyes - the truth that i've been hard on myself and not hard enough. i keep holding on too hard to the wrong things - my self-pity and my self-doubt, while not holding hard enough to my intentions nor fully owning actions to do everything possible to make things happen. had i played my cards right and really committed right from the start, i might have been closer to being part of the 5% club of mamas. but i'm not.

it's a humbling realization.

"you must make a choice, to take the chance, or your life will never change."

"intentions can change reality."

"be a priority in your life."

"stop waiting. life moves faster than you think."

life is moving fast - i see that as my little nieces and nephew grow and develop month after month. i'm on side with time, and though sometimes it makes me anxious running in synch together, the steps i'm taking to make things happen are worth it. i'm learning to do things in good faith, and now having a better understanding of what being true to myself means to me...or more precisely, how it feels. i've often heard celebs and other social media influencers talk about "being true to themselves", but i always found it to be something shallow and hallow: it's the soundbyte of the decade. but how could i have known what it was or how it would feel? i've never made myself a priority in life. that's the intention i have put forward - i am a priority in my life and this is the choice i am making.

...and sometimes life catches you off guard...

2016-06-06T22:12:00.001-04:00

friday night - out with my girlfriends to celebrate my birthday. checked out a new restaurant, later, crossed the street to a check out the sex shop, then finished the night playing a game of pool. the outcome, i made a purchase at the sex shop and i really suck at playing pool.

saturday - left home early in the morning with my westie to cheer my parents off as they participated in the ride for dad motorcycle parade. the rest of the day, i was laid up on the couch or floor in utter misery, trying to comprehend how i've developed seasonal allergies at my age. passed out by 8pm.

sunday - caught up on coronation street (my little vice and the only soap opera i will admit to watching), followed by an hour of work as a teaching assistant for a basic obedience training course at the canine school. finished the day working on a blog post.

monday - woke up at 4 am today and dragged myself into work. on the car ride in, i plan and visualize my day and what i will accomplish. but then life steps in. it's waving a huge red flag. soon as i get on the elevator, my colleague starts asking me about a former colleague of ours. we gather into the office of another colleague and learn...our friend and former co-worker was found murdered on saturday night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

friday night - while i was out with my girlfriends, my friend was already dead in mauritius.

saturday - while i was laid up on the couch in the afternoon, trying to find allergy remedies, my friend's body was discovered.

sunday - while i was watching coronation street, the police were questioning my friend's ex-boyfriend where he confesses his crime.

monday - while at work today, through social media and phone calls, we reconnected with former colleagues to share the tragic news, hugged our friends, shed some tears, and remembered our vivacious, funny and wonderful friend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i can't help myself from googling my friend's name and scouring all the mauritius online newspapers, trying to make sense of what has happened. we lost touch after her divorce and her move to mauritius - only seeing her scant posts on social media from time to time. my emotions cycle...i'm numb, i'm sad, i'm anxious, i'm angry, i'm scared. i cry when i think of the her teenage son. i cry at the brutality of how she died. i shudder when i try to image what she was feeling in those last moments. i cringe when i see the video of her murder circulating on social media. and i rage at those who didn't know her, judging and calling her names like "cougar".

i feel somewhat paralyzed - i want to call the crisis centre, wishing i could talk to my former counsellor. i push the overwhelming feelings away, still trying to process everything. i don't know how to process this grief. i feel i don't have perspective...there's so many different angles and facets...ranting about violence against women is going to be productive...i'm still too close to the source and not close enough. so for now, this is what i chose to do:

my friend loved to drink...so tonight, i'll raise a glass in her memory.
my friend loved her heels...so tonight, i'll put on my heels as my tribute to her.
my friend loved to dance...so tonight, i'll play some music and dance without giving any shit to those around me, because that's the way she would have danced and lived.
my friend loved fiercely...so tonight, i'll light a candle and pray for her family she leaves behind.

later this week, i'll head to the women's monument, gather some of my other colleagues, to share some of our fondest memories of our friend. i believe that's the way she would have wanted us to honour her...and even if life has caught us all off guard, she'd want us to cherish and celebrate it.

i love you patricia....and i miss you with all my heart.

...inviting life back into my life...

2016-06-05T19:15:00.000-04:00

it's been raining for most of the day - a consistent and persistent rain. i imagine rain droplets as little molecular soldiers, all with a mission to land and penetrate the soil. there's a respite at the moment...the rain on pause. despite the rain, lady humidity lingers about making herself at home. lady humidity and i aren't friends...i find her presence annoying. for now, i'm willing to tolerate her presence...better her than the hoards of unwanted pollen that have been dancing about in the air for the past few weeks.

i look at my list of draft posts, debating whether to finish one of the dozen or so blogs that I've started or to start a new one. i'll be honest, i'm not feeling particularly inspired at the moment. but i do have the urge to do something...to unleash myself and feel the rawness, to be humbled, and to fall forward. i also have an urge for a coffee and cigarette.

i'm single and i struggle with depression and personal demons. on a rainy day like today, it would be so easy to fall into myself. but i look over to my wall of post-it notes and i'm reminded of the goal i set out for myself on my 40th birthday last year - to do 40 remarkable things, big and small. it's not meant to be a bucket list, but a reminder to myself that i don't live in a rut. i'm reminded of a recent The Time of My Life by cecelia ahern, where the protagonist lucy silchester has an appointment with her life and she has no choice but to meet it face to face. in the end, lucy sums it up quite nicely:

"as long as you're around, your life is too. so just as you shower love and affection on the husbands, wives, parents, children and forever friends who surround you, you have to do so equally with your life, because it's yours, it's you, and it's always there rooting for you, cheering you on, even when you feel like you can't do it. i gave up on my life for a while, but what i've learned is that even when that happens and especially when that happens, life never gives up on you. mine didn't. and we'll be there for each other until those final moments when we will look at each other and say, 'thanks for staying until the end.' and that's the truth."

i've done just that this past year - found ways to invite life back into my life - to celebrate with it. in other aspects, i removed things that no longer had purpose or were hindering my life. i didn't reach my goal of 40, but that's not important - i tried, and along the way, learned things about myself.

attended the rcmp musical ride - i've never been on the grounds of the rcmp stables to see the musical ride - i've toured the facilities and will often try to go out at dusk while the horses get some freedom to roam the fields. but it was impressive to see the riders in unison. bonus: my neighbour was performing as one of the riders.
tried a new recipe - can't remember which one prompted me to write this, but i started a pinterest board of the recipes i have tried and liked.
got rid of my landline - i'm now living the cellular life. this was an exercise of letting go.
met my idol rebecca caine - i fell in love with her voice as christine in phantom of the opera and cosette in les miserables. i fell in love with rebecca even more when at the concert, she performed a song that was once performed by deanna durbin, my ultimate idol. i belted out showtunes on the car ride home.
said good-bye to my honda civic, welcomed a toyota yaris - another exercise of letting go. my honda civic and i had a 17 year relationship and to let her go, that was hard.
finished the book "saved by a poem" by kim rosen - i had had the book for over a year and finally was able to return it to its owner. bonus: a few months later, through serendipity, i ran into its owner, my former counsellor.
saw spiegelworld, an adult only circus show - i've seen circus shows, hell, i even dated and slept with a clown, but this show was funny, sexy, sensual and mildly dirty.
i went camping - solo car camping in fact, with hewey. i wasn't sure how hewey would do so we slept in my new toyota yaris, and as a little bonus, we car camped in a walmart parking lot too.
went to the CNE - i didn't try any rides as i was there for work, but it was an experience unto itself.
enrolled into a dog trainer certification program - it was an intense first semester and i still feel there is so much to learn about dog behaviour, cognition and training. unfortunately, i had to postpone the second semester to the following year.
went through jury selection process - i did my civic duty and presented myself at court. i was excused as i had a business trip scheduled. i do however still wish to be part of a jury one day - as long as its not a sexual assault case.
attended the scotiabank nuit blanche - from 6pm to 6am, i ran all around toronto to see the various works by artists. i'll never attend this event again. i simply wasn't impressed with the thematics nor the curation, and each year it gets worse.
got rid of my office shelf - another exercise in letting go, but happy that it has found a new home and used to keep all my nieces toys organized.
cancelled a credit card - another exercise in letting go, and a continued effort to declutter and simplify my life.
held a stag beetle - it was quite remarkable to be holding such a large bettle and have it crawl up my arm. stag beetle i can handle. spiders crawling up my arms, no.
ate a chocolate covered cricket - the best comparison would be, it was like eating chocolate covered rice crispies, only a better protein option! i doubt i'm ready to eat slugs though *shudder*
submitted my cv and resume - i seek new challenges and new opportunities at work. to keep my options open, i need to keep my resume in circulation.
hired as a dog trainer teaching assistant - an opportunity to work with clients and their dogs, while at the same time applying what i've learned.
held a snake and i liked it! - i understand the fascination of snakes now that i've held one. it was an amazing experience to feel their muscle contractions as they moved, as well as feel the delicate flicker of their tongue on my skin.
attended my first meet-up event - a friend and i challenged each other to attend 1 social gathering a month and to expand our network. so as my first meet-up, i picked an introduction meet up sessions for we are the ducklings. it snowed 50cm that night and i still made it out.
signed up to be a we are the ducklings member - in a future post, i'll write about this group and why i joined.
attended my first art battle - it was an amazing experience to watch artists create a painting in 20 minutes. bonus: i bought a painting!
volunteered with habitat for humanities - not wanting to give up using my volunteer day, i signed up with habitat for humanities - used a drill, sawed and painted walls/ceilings. all in all, a great day!
groomed a horse - well a pony really. i could have spent the whole afternoon brushing its mane.
de-boned a leg of lamb - i had watched a number of videos on how it's done, but in the end, a one-on-one tutorial with a chef is so much better.
attended nature nocturne - it was an adult night at the museum with really expensive drinks, dj music and poorly lit fashion show. i doubt i'll ever attend another nature nocturne event.
made cold-pressed soap - it was a group event, but now that i'm using my hand-made soap, i'd love to try it again with different essential oils.
accepted a new work assignment - i've been given the chance to challenge myself, finally!
found a lost dog - put to use all the lessons i've learned about dog behaviour and watching dog rescue videos.
attended my 1st canine seminar - while much of the presentation repeated things i've learned in class and through the reactive rover classes, it was still a great opportunity to be in a room with so many other dog trainers, rescue works and pet owners.
visited an organic farm - well a commercial organic farm, cuz lets face it, my parents garden is a fully organic farm as well. but they don't have a pen with 100 chicks!
donated blood - well, i gave a pint of my blood and still waiting to hear if my blood is usable. along the way, i got to meet and interact with network of friends.
attended a school of sex workshop - it was part of a we are the duckling event. as an event planner, i was disappointed. but on a personal front, it challenged me to meet and talk with other men. the resulting experience will most likely be a future blog post.
signed up for sex therapy workshop - the subject is on body image and it finishes with a boudoir photo shoot! Time to add some new articles of clothing to my wardrobe!

i haven't given up on my life, not by a long shot. i have a big year ahead of me - big things to achieve and conquer. there are still some walls of self-doubt to breakdown and gardens of self-worth to grow...but my life is lying right next to me, reminding me that the world is out there to explore and experience.

my wall of post-it notes of things achieved

Walk it off

2016-02-10T10:33:00.001-05:00

i have a bieber song in my head. it's been stuck there since the morning with the refrain "sorry" repeating itself like a broken record. i give credit to the kid - the song has a catchy tune, but i'm no bielieber. and with the mood i'm in right now, it's not improving my emotional state.

i think of poet Kim Rosen and her teachings. i suspect there's something in the lyrics that has nicked my nerves. a quick google search for the lyrics drums up hundreds of web results and i choose one, skimming over the words - literally, a fast read. i make sure not to connect with the words - i have the tune stuck in my head, i have no desire to have the lyrics "written on the bones," as Kim would say. no, i'm in no mood for either forgiveness or second chances - these being the words that pop out from the screen. i keep the veil of cynicism cloaked around me, guarding all my supressed frustrations and annoyances. it forms a slick layer of grease on my skin and it irritates me further.

it's february and the weather is fucking gorgeous. the sun shines brightly outdoors - the light bouncing off the white snow. it's a scene that is postcard perfect, and yet, i feel like it's mocking me. i imagine all the people outside soaking in their required vitamin D, and a battery symbol with the percentage of the charge level above each of their heads.

who is at full?
who is maximizing their efficiency for their charge to last?
who is running on empty?
and their charge level, is that indicative also of their level of happiness?

i want to be happy. i often pretend i'm happy - the mask goes on and i resemble someone who has their shit together. but i'm on the verge of cracking. i slip - i keep forgetting to lock my door at night. i gorge on food and smoke cigarettes. i wring my hands and clasp them tightly. i sink back into the hole in the sidewalk. i disconnect. and this all irritates the shit out of me too.

distractions - i seek them out. i'm on edge and the bieber song isn't helping me - it's like chinese water torture. i want to drown out the song - avoidance is flashing like a warning signal, its message coursing through all the neuro pathways. i pick a romantic comedy from my on-line library - happythankyoumoreplease. i have no idea what the film is about - i simply need an escape. if i get a few laughs out of it, bonus.

but then i freeze. pablo schreiber is in this film. shit.

(a little context - up to this point, i've only ever seen schreiber in Law and Order SVU, where he plays a very convincing serial rapist, william lewis. his portrayal of this character has plagued and challenged my anxieties over the years - he embodies and reminds me so vividly of my own rapist - manipulative, controlling, expressionless, a predator.)

there are clearly messages that the universe keeps leaving at my door step, and no matter how many distractions i put up as obstacles, that knock on the door isn't going away. it's schreiber's character in the film, charlie, where i gain a bit of insight:

“Did you play sports when you were a kid? D’you remember ‘walk it off’. No matter what happened right? I mean your eye-ball could be hanging out of its socket, coach would run over, scoop you up; ‘Hey you’re alright kid just walk it off.’ And I’m sure a few of those times I was legitimately hurt, but just having this concept, walk it off, as a way to, I don’t know, heal myself, it worked. I just walked that shit off.”

walk it off. it's as simple as that. it's not about running to escape, but walking it off to heal. i do just that. it feels good to get the legs moving and breathing in the crisp winter air. i have no destination in mind, so i head to the local mom and pop shop to check my lottery numbers. i don't win anything, but i buy another set for the following draw. who knows, maybe with a little thank you, more please, i might win something more.

as i continue on my walk, i sense a lightness - i seize the chance and face the yet undefined thing that is causing me distress. the blurry edges come into focus and hones in on my anxieties. ghomeshi. there's a whole media storm going on right now. i cringe when i read the onslaught of questions posed by defence counsel to the victims. the chatter around the trial is everywhere and it overwhelms me. but ultimately, i hate how defence is painting a picture of "you liked boy, you sexted with boy, you wanted boy" with a timeline detailed and outlined for all to see. i acknowledge defence counsel is doing her job, but i find it hard not to take it personally - with each question, i find myself reflecting back to my own actions or inactions. did i do/say something that could be perceived as consent to cause the outcome of my rape?

i remind myself that this isn't my trial and i'm not on any stand to be judged. the debates, the dialogue, the comments - these are needed to effectuate change, and though it may at times make me uncomfortable and vulnerable, i need not fear it. and if it does, well, i just need to buy a pair pf new runners so that i can walk that shit off.

remembering deepak...

2015-11-11T16:15:00.002-05:00

he reminds me of james franco.
his picture has been in the newspaper for the past month.
but james franco he is not.

i met him about five years ago - deepak - not james franco. he was part of the group celebrating the birthday boy and i was a tag along. he was very charismatic and charming with an easy smile. he had beautiful dark curly hair, hidden under a grey beanie and though it was late and we were inside, he wore these large sunglasses. deepak had his own style and he seemed at ease and comfortable with his surroundings.

he asked what i did and i explained the events i produced. he confessed that he and his cousin had taken to "ice climbing" the large ice sculptures of a boat my event had created one year. the event producer in me was shocked and angry, but i silently admired his guts and sense of adventure. the night went on with amusing stories of his wild adventures as well as some serious discussions about life.

this was the only night i encountered deepak, but he left a strong impression - he had a vibe and presence about him that endeared him to others. he was so full of energy and easily drew in and connected with people, i thought to myself, "he reminds me of a younger james franco". and with each passsing winter, i would often wondering if i would run into him again, perhaps late at night climbing another ice sculpture.

a month ago, the news reported of having found a body. i would have dismissed this as another tragic story of a drug addict and moved on, but the young man's name triggered my memory rolodex. it was deepak. it was his tragic story i was reading.

on learning of his struggles with mental illness and addictions, it jarred with my initial impression of deepak - the happy, smiling and charming young man at the bar. i grieve for this deepak, but having struggled silently with my own depressions and anxiety, i have compassion and empathy for the other deepak i never knew and his sufferings.

at this point, i'm torn. i want to honour deepak's memory...the young man so full of life and adventure...but my only memory of him is of that one night at the bar celebrating his friend - the birthday boy. i didn't know it at the time, but that night set in motion a series of poor choices on my part that would later engulf me in regret, shame and guilt. if we were to play the six degrees of separation game, the only connection between deepak and i is the birthday boy...the birthday boy would eventually become my rapist.

i don't want to remember deepak this way, not linked to my feelings and memories of my rapist.

i want to honour deepak's spirit, and his desire to live as he would have wanted to - at peace and happy. so, in february, on a clear night, next to the large ice sculpture, i'll create a candle holder with coloured ice blocks, light a little candle and imagine him climbing upwards and being free. this is how i want to remember and honour deepak.

A midnight drive through my mind...

2015-09-08T00:01:00.001-04:00

I want pho.

I've been craving it all day. It's my friend's fault. She posted an article where the best pho restaurants are located in the city and every since then, my appetite just hasn't been satisfied.

But it's late and most of the restaurants have likely shut down for the night, the workers antsy to close and escape the heat of the kitchen. There's a heatwave, with the kind of humidity that squeezes all the energy out of you. That's how I feel, sitting here on my couch in the dark - there's no air conditioner, no fan, no breeze. But I want pho. I look down at my little westie. He's panting, moving between the small area of tiled floor in front of the fireplace to his cool mat - anywhere but the carpeted floor that is retaining heat.

I contemplate going to bed, but I'm so agitated. Between wiping the beads of sweat from between my boobs and trying to calm the pho cravings, I sense the inner frustration growing. Anxiety isn't far behind. Sleep, i should sleep...but the thought of sleep only amplifies my anxiety - flashbacks of my dreams coming back to me. So I focus back on my pho cravings, because you know, that's what emotional eaters do.

I look down at my westie once more and grab my keys. "Shall we go for a car ride?"

He does the adorable westie head tilt in acknowledgement. I head for the stairs and he follows. Outside, he sniffs the air, which is only slightly cooler than inside my house. He settles himself on the concrete stoop, enjoying the feel of the coolness on his underbelly. But he's picked up on my energies and he quietly surveys the parking area, fully alert to strike out at any creature who dares to step out from behind the shadows. I love that he has my back, but tonight, I'm in no mood to stay still - I need to keep moving. I'm fully aware of my own state of alertness and I give a little tug on his leash, trying to out maneuver my anxieties. "Let's go, this way - car ride!"

The car ride is an excuse - it gets me out of the house and it's a means of distraction from sleep. Bonus points - the car also has air conditioning. I feel my eyes growing bigger and unblinking - I know I need to work fast and ground myself. Going into a manic state while driving is always one of my fears - I don't want to hurt my dog who's with me, nor anyone else. I begin to refocus. Heading to Chinatown, I scope out the restaurants, but with so many of them with similar names, I can't recall the name or the location of the exact restaurant with the best pho. I don't want to be eating a so-so pho - my taste buds are discerning and in my mind, I already know what flavours I want to taste. Plus, I've also gotten comfortable with the air conditioning and have no desire to step out of this piece of heaven.

It's too bad nobody has a drive-thru pho restaurant, I think to myself. It's one of my pet peeves going to those late-night restaurants, walking in and patrons looking at you but not looking at you, trying to guess your back story. I'm guilty, I know I do it too. I'm feeling less optimistic that I'm going to satisfy my pho cravings, but the midnight drive through the city is providing me with ample distractions. The streets are still alive - there's more than a dozen people waiting for the bus, a couple chatting and laughing on a bench, taxis and uber drivers picking up and dropping off patrons, two people on their motorized wheelchairs racing down the sidewalk. What brought them out? Where are they heading? Are they avoiding sleep too?

Now and then, at a red light, my little furry companion pops his head up from the seat to see if it's a street he recognizes or if we're near the dog park. As I press the gas, I holler, "Here we go!" He quietly settles and lulls himself to sleep to the motion of the car.

The gas gauge dips and I run through my mental catalog, trying to remember which gas station is still open past midnight on a long weekend. I'm in a mild state of hyper-vigilance, but I also don't want to push my luck - driving tired is no different than driving drunk. I recall my recent close calls when I almost caused two car accidents in the span of an hour because I was overly tired. I decide to head home, stopping in to fill up on gas and as a compromise, I pick up a burger and poutine at a drive-thru, with the promise to make myself a noodle soup the next day - a faux pho.

I also promise myself to stop avoiding sleep and to face whatever the subconscious keeps bringing out in my dreams. None of it makes sense - the scenarios and visions only make me uncomfortable, lost, and anxious. As I sit in the dark eating my burger and poutine, I try to make sense of my dreams - I'm walking through the sequences as a player within a play. The scenario are relatively the same each night - only the setting, location and players are different. Each night, I'm invited to bed by either strangers or by people I know - always male and each time, I find myself lying next to them. Nothing ever happens beyond lying next to them, but as I lie there I'm filled with anxiety, confusion, insecurity, and suspicious of their motives. I feel vulnerable, but oddly, I don't feel helpless.

The food is keeping my anxiety at bay and I continue to push on through my reflections. During a recent out-of-town work trip, an incident made me question, "when should one step up when a break-up goes bad?" Couples have the right to work things out with other people minding their own business. But where does social responsibility fit in? In particular, when it appears the break-up is escalating towards violence? The commotion I overheard in the room next to me was enough to make me fear for the woman, especially with his outbursts of "Baby, it was an accident!" and "Please baby, I can't go back to jail!" I don't trust this man, I don't appreciate his manipulations or having to endure listening to their outbursts.

That was a week ago. As I sip my cola, I wonder if she has managed to rid herself of that man. I relive the memories with various "what-if" scenarios floating by. I want to regress within myself, but I know the truth won't leave me alone until I figure things out for myself. I open myself to curiosity and begin to question the various interpretation and it dawns on me - I have invited the couple's dysfunctional relationship and energies within me. My heart is sympathetic and compassionate for the other woman, but their relationship is not my problem and I can't make choices for her or allow myself to expend my anxieties for her. I make a conscious decision to disengage. I make a mental note to continue to follow this feeling of agitation. It's not the most comfortable state to be in, but I sense there is more to be uncovered - certainly as it relates to intimacy, sex, relationships, trust and living life sans fear.

I finish the last of the burger - noting how the flavours are too synthetic for my liking. The nausea I feel is now from the poor food choice, and not my anxiety. The clock reads 3:55am and though I still have the urge to avoid sleep, my mind is appeased enough to relent it's control. I yawn and as my head hits the pillow, there is only one thought going through my mind - I still want pho.

Faux Pho

Understanding what commitment means to me...

2015-04-25T15:07:00.000-04:00

Before tackling this blog, I procrastinated by checking my various social media accounts, and I fell upon my friend Amber Lee's most recent blog post. She's has this incredible passion for life and I love how she explores, discovers and views the world around her. I ended up re-reading her post The 52 Weeks, which is about her quest to write weekly and so far, true to her word/post, she has posted something each week without fail. I love how her Project Manager self comes out and was really drawn to two of her objectives:

To see what happens. Sometimes when you take an action, something happens. I’m curious to know what will happen. Maybe nothing. Maybe no one will read this and I am only writing for myself, but that’s okay.
To challenge myself. This will help me structure and focus my brain, and to sharpen my skills.

Her commitment to herself inspired me to reflect on my own sense of commitment and what it means to me.

I have tried a number of times to reset my life, launch into self-improvements and have had a stream of good intentions - I'm trying to lose weight. I'm trying to bring my lunch to work. I'm trying to get 7 hours of sleep. I'm trying to be more disciplined. I'm trying to go out to meet new people. I'm trying to keep up with my writing. I'm trying...I'm trying...I'm trying. I have a string of statements that I've made to myself over the years. But I found that I was equally good at self-sabotaging my attempts, coming up with excuses to not continue. My backdoor has been everything from my fears, shame, guilt, unwillingness to be vulnerable, a need to stay in control, my own lack of belief in myself and my inability to value my own worth, dreams and wishes.

1. There's a difference between "to try" and "to commit"

Question: do you see commitment as a pledge, promise, obligation, as an act of engaging yourself, or all of the above? Image credit: David Jelinek

To try is to make an effort, an attempt, to test things, a trial. In trying, there is no accountability to oneself, and for me, this was my loop hole to any self-sabotaging efforts - there was no requirement to continue if things didn't work out. However, David Jelinik's attitude about the outcome of committing to something is rather blasé: "Commit and who cares what the results are...it's awesome enough that you started." Having the motivation to start something is great, but what David's commitment scale fails to point out is the higher the level of commitment, the deeper one has to dig within one self to make and sustain the effort to see it through to the end. If I'm going to put in all that effort into making something happen, I am going to care...a lot, because if I didn't, I'd be the first to walk through that backdoor.

2. Rephrase your intentions into action statements.

A friend of mine shared what she learned at a retreat about living in the present and she said sometimes, all it takes is rephrasing an intention in the present tense. I struggled with this concept for a while with my work-life balance and so I told her "I'm trying to leave work by 5 pm each day". But my commitment to my work had a greater hold on me and I continued to struggle to let go of my workaholic self. So one day, she emailed me this phrase:

"I am productive and my work day ends at 5 pm."

Such a simple phrase, but it became my mantra with the stated goal set clearly for me and easy to follow. Because if you can't put your commitment into action, you can't make it a reality.

3. Follow through, and if you don't succeed, repeat.

"You cannot make a real commitment unless you accept that it's a choice that you keep making again and again and again."

The quote above is from the film Keeping the Faith starring Ben Stiller, Ed Nortan and Jenna Elfman. I haven't seen the film yet, but I really like Ben Nadel's reflection about the quote - that love and commitment require work...they aren't simply internal drives...choices that we have to consciously make over and over again. I admit, there was a time I used to wish there was a magic spell to make change a pain free experience, that there was a simple solution for instant happiness. But over the past few years, I've learned that it takes discipline and to never give up. To consciously chose to follow through, even when I've fallen off the bandwagon, I know that I'm benefiting from the experience and growing stronger rather than lowering my self-worth and sneaking out the backdoor.

love after love...

2015-03-20T01:08:00.000-04:00

from the poem "Love after Love"

Hina Matsuri, a Girl's Festival...

2015-03-03T16:30:00.004-05:00

my mother's hina matsuri display

today is march 3rd - hina matsuri - when the japanese people pray for the happiness and healthy growth of girls.

i don't really know much about the tradition, other than my mother would bring out her dolls each year and offer food. sometimes she would dress my sister or i in a kimono. we may have sung a few songs. she would sometimes take pictures to mark the occasion. and just as soon as she would put them out, the display of dolls would be gone, as if they were never there in the first place.

this year, she put them out early in February.

"why do you have them out so early this year?" i asked.

"because, i'm wishing that you'll be married soon," she says. "if i put them out earlier, i thought it might bring you better luck."

huh?

growing up, what my mother failed to tell me is the old superstition - if families don't put the dolls away by march 4th, their daughters will have difficulty finding husbands or would be late to marry. i suppose i should have taken more interest in my cultural traditions and customs but as a young girl, i had no connection to these dolls, the festival or their significance. fancy figurines of the emperor and empress, these dolls were not play dolls...i assumed they were just displays that one put out like hallowe'en or christmas decorations. of course, in japan, the hina matsuri has taken on a whole holiday marketing campaign to sell the "must-have" items for the celebration.

i had no idea my mother put so much weight on the superstitions. if i had been more aware of the significance of the hina matsuri, would i have had a different view of myself as a girl growing up? does this tradition have an impact on how men value and treat girls?

i ask this last question because today the media is abuzz about the documentary India's Daughter by leslee udwin, which will be aired globally on march 8th to coincide with international woman's day. udwin journey's to india after the horrific gang rape of a young woman on december 16, 2012. she interviews the rapists and their lawyers to examine their values and mindset and she uncover where the true problem lies:

"these offences against women and girls are part of the story, but the full story starts with a girl not being as welcome as a boy, from birth...if a girl is accorded no value, if a girl is worthless than a boy, then it stands to reason there will be men who believe they can do what they like with them."

perhaps it's time india adopts a form of hina matsuri and accord to their daughters equal happiness and healthy growth as their sons, with men committed to ensuring that this outcome is honoured and achieved.

and on that note... i don't anticipate or expect marriage in 2015 - my mother's wish will be left unfilled again this year. sorry mom. i have no desire to set myself with those kinds of expectations - i don't feel that's how one achieves happiness. but what i can do for myself today is celebrate and honour my own personal journey to be happy and healthy. i chose to celebrate the girl that i was, all the potential she was born with and to continue to uncover the woman she is becoming...all the while celebrating the girl/woman she is today.

sending out the same hope and prayer for all young girls elsewhere as well.

kumpai!

i won't lie...practicing what you preach is hard...

2015-02-20T18:05:00.000-05:00

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.

Chasing madness...

2015-02-13T09:04:00.001-05:00

i am so deprived of sleep that i think i'm falling into madness...

my mind is ready to bolt...if i could, without waking up all my neighbours, i would take everything out of my kitchen cupboards in one full swoop...one big loud crash...i would overturn everything in this house, i would burn it all down...

this isn't me...this isn't who i want to be...this isn't where i want to be.

there is no Hell Ya feeling...

i've lost my edge. i've lost the story of who i am and what i'm capable of.

and that is sad...this journey was supposed to be about finding myself and instead, i find myself feeling more lost than ever...

i'm tired of feeling like i'm going backwards or stalled in everything i do...

i used to be a change agent...i used to love innovation and making a difference...now, i just want to snap at everyone and tell them to go fuck off...

i feel so detached and so disconnected...disengaged...disillusioned...and what infuriates me is that i've done this to myself...i've allowed it to happen as i sink into the shadows...i'm not seen, i'm not heard, i'm invisible...it's a bit of the victim mentality and i hate this about myself...

there's a milestone to be attained this year...and i desperately want a change for the better...i can't continue to live like this...with bitterness, with abject apathy...

so where do i begin?

a part of me wants to jump the path and start on a new street and not look back...

another part of me wants to stay on the street, but to remove all distractions in one full swoop...

another part of me wants to stay on the road, but invite more chaos...

and another part of me just wants to end it all and slip into darkness...this is the thought that i fear the most and what i am currently battling...i know i am fortunate, i know i have things that people dream of...and yet, i'm not living my dream...i have not attained my dream...and that bitterness is festering and maddening...

ironically, i did one of those online quizzes and my anthem song they selected for me was One Republic's I Lived...

This is what I am aiming for...to find that part of me that will take the essence of the song and chose to live...to beat the odds...to not be confined by how others define me or how i define myself...as the song says...to own every second that this world can give...

Chasing numbness

2014-12-20T10:05:00.000-05:00

I feel like I'm unraveling and so I'm doing what I do best...chasing numbness.

When things got overwhelming, I used to hunker down and immerse myself in work, letting the hours of the day disappear into each other. I would gorge myself in food without tasting anything. I would pick up my one evil vice (smoking cigarettes) for that momentary weightless buzz. I used to find satisfaction in all that...it was my way of controlling what I couldn't control.

I'm wanting to fall back on these old habits. When in a state of numbness, I felt I was achieving things because I could be productive. I was validated by the sense that I was giving what others wanted and needed. I wasn't going to let them fall into the hole in the sidewalk. I was their silent and invisible hero, and my workaholic identity defined me.

But there is no muse in numbness.

There is no life in numbness.

There is no authentic self in numbness.

The old me would chase numbness and find comfort in this state of being. It was all that I knew. My mind was sharp and like a machine, the synapses would fire off and life would be effective and efficient. Eat. Sleep. Work. Repeat. I saw myself as a machine, but unlike a machine, there is a heart that beats and from time to time, echos of desires and dreams rang in the hallows of the mind. The mind didn't want any part of it though. To silence these whispers, more fuel would be added to numbness and with Xena like zenith, I would tackle and dive into my work - the goal being to defeat the multitude of deadlines and additional responsibilities, no matter the cost to my self.

Now - I see before me a mountain of things I need to overcome both on a professional and personal level...but there is no hole in the sidewalk to fall into. It's one of the outcomes of being on this journey - I've gained that perspective of facing things instead of hiding from myself. And now that I've built that bridge over the hole in the sidewalk, there is no place to hide. The urge to follow my sense of responsibility and commitment to work is strong but I'm not ready to let go of the person I've been nurturing simply to turn my whole self over to work. My mind and heart has been on a journey together these past few years and they have developed a relationship based on understanding and acceptance. And to surrender myself to numbness isn't something either wants.

And so what do I do?

I think part of the answer is in the dream that I had a few nights ago. In my dream, I was dancing the waltz with a colleague, only we were doing a terrible job of it - my footing was off, I was off beat and I kept stumbling. It was nothing but frustrating, and I was plagued with shame and a sense that I was letting my colleague down. I was failing miserably as a partner. I wasn't holding up my part. A teacher stepped in and took the lead, but I continued to stumble over my feet. He then stopped me and said, "Relax, just follow."

There are so many ways I can interpret this - but the main message I take away from this - now is the time to follow both the desires of the heart and mind.

Professionally, now is the time to follow new challenges. I'll maintain my commitment to my current team, but I no longer hold that sense of obligation to stay and be the glue to keep them together. Others have left to pursue new jobs, I'm allowed to do the same.

The desire to move on professionally also has personal implications. I'm nearing the point of no return in my personal life. I want a life of my own that isn't immersed in numbness. This past week, I had numerous colleagues come into my cubicle asking about my time spent with my niece. As a proud aunt, I gave funny anecdotes about the experience and expressed how she's a wonderful and perfect little baby. But here's a secret:

Secret Reveal #8: On the 4hr drive to visit my sister and my new born niece, I cried all the way. I should have been eager and excited but instead, I was fraught with despair that no amount of numbness could ease. Numbness can't replace the desire to experience motherhood. Should I chose to stay in the industry I'm employed, it simply doesn't provide the quality of life or time to raise a child. A part of me was ashamed with myself for being so selfish, and though I cherished those precious moments with my little niece, I was also equally aware of the hallow numbness. I'm going to be the best aunt that I can be, but I can't deny I want it all for myself as well.

I hate this kind of vulnerable

2014-10-31T00:25:00.001-04:00

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...

Resilience: we will carry on...

2014-10-26T21:49:00.003-04:00

I started writing this blog post a few days ago to explore some anxieties I was experiencing, but they all seem so mute in light of this past week's events - two soldiers murdered, the Parliament breached, the suspect shot dead by the Sergeant-in-Arms, and buildings in lockdown. It was like an episode of 24, only it wasn't Keifer Sutherland in the camera frame with special effects and stunts, there was no script or movie soundtrack, and there were no re-takes. In a country and capital that doesn't often see this kind of chaos, it brings about a different perspective and a new sense of vulnerability. Hearing of former colleagues who witnessed the shooting to seeing images of a friend escorted out of a building amidst a swarm of armed police or seeing the evidence of bullet holes in the walls where I have walked through Parliament before...it all seems surreal.

I waited for the all the political leaders to address Canadians...waiting for our fearless leader to send out a message of reassurance, but the one delivered by Justin Trudeau spoke to me the most.

"...In the days that follow, there will be questions, anger and perhaps confusion. This is natural, but we cannot let it get the better of us. Losing ourselves to fear and speculation is the intention of those who commit these heinous acts.

They mean to shake us. We will remain resolved.

They want us to forget ourselves. Instead, we should remember.

We should remember who we are. We are a proud democracy, a welcoming and peaceful nation, and a country of open arms and open hearts. We are a nation of fairness, justice and the rule of law.

We will not be intimidated into changing that.

If anything, these are the values and principles to which we must hold on even tighter. Our dedication to democracy and the institutions we have built is the foundation of our society. And a continued belief in both will guide us correctly into the future. Staying true to our values in a time of crisis will make us an example to the world.

Criminals cannot and will not dictate to us how we act as a nation, how we govern ourselves or how we treat each other. They cannot and will not dictate our values. And they do not get to decide how we use our shared public spaces.

Today we heard about a loss of innocence in Canada. This is inaccurate. Canada is not innocent to the threats we face, and we know that we are not immune. What is true is that we have not let those threats shape us, and we have never bowed to those who mean to undermine our values and way of life. We have remained Canadians. And this should be how we will carry on."

We will remain resolved: I remember attending a fundraising event for the Japanese tsunami victims where the then Japanese Ambassador to Canada Kaoru Ishikawa calmly stated, "Each of us must do what we must do." We have been shaken and I still feel twisted inside each time I see images in the media of that day and the victims. But my hope for my national capital is that celebrations in shared public spaces continue and as Trudeau says, that we don't lose ourselves to fear and overreaction.

We should remember who we are: This is a call to all of us to be true to ourselves as well as our nation - to uphold our values and commitment to democracy, respect and compassion for each other and ourselves, and to remain resilient as we walk through the challenges and chaos despite our feelings of vulnerability. While Trudeau says we should hold on even tighter, it shouldn't mean that we hold so tight that we become inflexible otherwise this could become our Achilles' heel.

I have yet to bring myself to go by Confederation Square or the Parliament, but I am determined to pay my respects in the coming days. No doubt this will have deep impact, bringing an onset of other emotions to process, but even with tears streaming, all the more reasons to be strong and show the world, we are still standing - united and proud.

Getting comfortable with my fight response

2014-10-01T02:23:00.001-04:00

I'm no athlete. I'm uncoordinated, my reflexes are slow. And team sports, I'm certainly no champion player.

Regardless, I signed up to participate in a Sports League. A friend encouraged me to sign up, as did my counsellor - it offers opportunities to meet new people and a chance to step outside of my comfort zone.

Each week, before the game, I am filled with dread and anxiety. Between my lack of confidence in my athletic skills and all the doubts of my old self trying to clamor and push their way back in, I struggle with the urge to stay home and hide.

Tonight was no exception. I was tested on so many fronts - physically, mentally, emotionally and socially. As I laced up my shoes and faced the other team, I felt the anxiety within me crescendo, building momentum, drumming and pulsing louder and stronger. I thought I was going to be sick. I felt like I was going to have a manic episode right on the volleyball court. I could feel my body begin to quiver, my hands ready to wring in the air, my heart beating, my breathing going erratic. My flight responses were cued and ready.

And then...I took a little moment. As my counsellor would say, "Slow down."

I acknowledged the anxiety.

I used my frenetic feelings and energies to my advantage by channeling it within me as needed - to my feet, my arms, my vision, my voice, my lungs. I became more focused and ironically, I also became aware of a different feeling - the sense of inhibition and freedom. That simply acknowledgement enabled me to trigger a fight response, and for the critical mind to sit out this round on the bench and letting the body and instincts to take the lead to accomplish what needed to be accomplished. This awareness to me symbolizes my transition from survivor mode to thriver mode. And this makes me all kinds of happy. I found myself fearlessly flying after the volleyball, I found my voice to call the ball or to ask for help and my body memory quickly came back with my old serving routine - bounce the ball three times, spin the ball in my palm three times, and then recalling my father's voice not to let my eyes leave the ball as my fist made contact for the serve.

As the cliche goes, it's easier said than done. A year ago, I would have been discouraged and frustrated with not comprehending how to process my feelings, how to overcome my anxieties, or how to move forward. With time and space, acceptance is like a Zamboni - it clarifies and cleans the surface, making it safer and level for the self to come out and play. And once that happens, there is a greater purpose for one to jump onto the court and kick, catch, and throw your way through the process. It forces the body, mind and heart to work together as a team, to let go of what they can't control, and to trust and be in awe of the unknown.

I'm grateful I've chosen to fight my way though my anxieties because through each experience, I've gained so much more in fighting than if I had chosen to flee.

My end and my beginning...

2014-09-14T08:59:00.000-04:00

My fingers are poised over the keyboard. My eyes closed and I'm simply listening...waiting...being...

I'm waiting for that source of inspiration to hit....but all I hear are the lyrics to John Legend's song "All of me", mixed with a bit of Hoobastank's "The Reason", my original anthem song.

My sessions with my counsellor are nearing an end...the ending of a chapter. As in any journey, one always gets a sense when it's time to move on...that it's time to leap and move forward on your own. In my sessions, I sensed greater positive energy, strength, courage and hope within myself so I knew...I know it's time to step out and venture on my own.

I'm feeling apprehensive and anxious. But there's that nagging feeling within me...an edge. The whimsical me who has been hiding behind the full skirts is now tugging at the skirt, trying to get my attention and she's got her hand already on the doorknob, ready to sprint from the brick house and into the world beyond...to explore, to discover, to chase, to simply be. But I can also see now that this girl I'm looking at isn't merely the innocent girl full of whimsy that I've been protecting and hiding - no, she's a woman with a sense of curiosity, wonder, and adventure. She's aware of the risks and obstacles she may face, but she's is bright and resourceful enough to figure things out as the situation arises. She doesn't need a cage or an armor to protect her. She is her own champion who has learned to voice and express what she wants.

Regardless...I know that I'll be here a little longer yet on this blog...this chapter may be ending, but the start of my next journey is only beginning...

Summer of Bliss...

2014-08-27T00:25:00.000-04:00

It's been a fairly dreary, wet and cold summer, but now that we've reached the last week of August, Summer has finally perked up and the hot humid days and nights have returned, drinking in every last minute of what time remains of Summer.

I don't blame Summer - I'm doing the same thing. I've been reflecting on all the adventures I've enjoyed these past few months against what I had hoped to do, what I've learned from the experiences, and what more can I do with what is left of Summer.

At the start of the summer, I created my Summer of Bliss list as a way to reconnect with my whimsical self and to embrace the present:

Jump off a Bridge (incomplete - a few weeks after I completed my list, the local police posted a warning - $200 fine for anyone caught jumping off the bridge into the river - need to find a new bridge).
SkyZone (incomplete - but activity scheduled for this week - I'm going to jump on the trampolines until I am breathless).
Water Park (incomplete - but I plan to attend before the park closes for the season).
Speeddating (completed - I committed myself to get out of my box and challenged myself to meet new people. Matches lined up and moving along my personal journey to engage my authentic self).
Camping (completed - it was for one night, but it was nice to be surrounded by nature, kayaking on the lake, swimming at the locks and simply slowing down).
Read 10 books (incomplete - I've read one book so far)
Attend local festivals (completed - attended the Garlic Festival, Cheese Curd Festival and the Opening of a new Park).

While my Type A self would have judged my performance harshly, my authentic self has learned not to be as critical - in fact, it's the opposite. I am in awe of the things that I have done this summer (of what is and isn't on the list). I didn't travel to any destinations or go to the East coast, but instead I packed my bags and my faithful westie, hit the road with no road map, plan or itinerary. I put my trust in the universe. Along the way, I discovered new things - the character and charm of small towns, my need and love of being near the water, spent time by the riverbank, watched the sunset...and along my travels, I became aware of something. I loved the sense of freedom I have regained and appreciated the "now" that followed me wherever I went.

I also spent time in the garden - it grounds me and gives me the space to dig deep to the root of what I'm trying to work through. This summer in particular, I consciously chose to reconnect with my younger self - recalling what she used to do, her hopes, her dreams. I even hopped on a bike to run an errand and re-discovered how much I loved riding...the sense of independence, feeling alive and being fearless! As a young woman, I spent hours riding my bike - with no regular bus service and with no drivers licence, it was my only means of travel in my small little town - and I would often ride well into the night, happy to be out watching the stars and the moon. It was also how I kept in shape.

If I were given the chance to repeat these past 8 weeks, I wouldn't change much...it has been the most rewarding summer for me in a long time...the kind of summer I used to dream of. I loved the time I spent with myself, re-connecting to both my essensual and whimsical selves and I have author Sarah Ban Breathnach's to thank. Her book Romancing the Ordinary: A Year of Simple Splendors has been my main source of inspiration for my Summer of Bliss.

As for not completing all that I had planned, Sarah writes:

"Plenty of time left for a summer fling."

And so that is what I plan to do - to continue and complete as much as I can before the leaves change and fall beckons me to spend time with her.

Commitment to me

2014-08-19T13:29:00.001-04:00

I'm struggling with this blog today. But despite how I feel, I'm tackling the task of writing and continuing my reflection on Commitment.

When my friend Jason Billows, leadership and life coach, explored the results of my Wheel of Life Assessment, I remember saying how I felt my lack of success in relationships was due to my inability to commit. But Jason didn't see it that way, "You are one of the most committed people I know! You're committed to your friends, your family, your job. You are capable of commitment!" Since that initial talk, I've always been intrigued about his perception of me, but more curious as to why I wasn't able to grasp and see it his way. Then I came across this article by Mary Pritchard: Making a Commitment to Myself and what she learned in reading Heidi Reeder's book Commit to Win and it was a Bazinga moment. I'm going to put this book on my reading list, but as Mary revealed herself in her post, I was drawn to every description of how she perceived her commitment to herself. I could relate - on every level - as Mary revealed her own behavioural patterns and thoughts to Heidi's four elements of commitment. I saw myself reflected in Mary's words. And though at first it was unnerving and it touched a raw place within, I also felt a sense of relief as now I had a starting point to work from to change and make things happen.

1. What do you Value?

For me to make a commitment to myself, I need to take a good, hard look not only at what I value about me, but whether I value me as a person...although I value myself generally and think of myself as someone with a positive sense of self, when it comes to romantic relationships all bets are off...when it comes to work of friends, I value me for me. When it comes to romantic relationships, my self-worth flies out the window.
As a person, I channel my positive energy towards my work, friends and family.

As a woman who has endured manipulation as a young teen to the woman raped in her own house, I devalued myself and my body by detaching and disassociating. For the longest time, I've kept both the person self and the woman self separate but in order to understand what it means to commitment to myself, I need to find a way to bring the two selves into one being, one self. The person self is just as important as the woman self and deserves equally success and happiness. To achieve this, I am working on daily practices that help me acknowledge and validate this so that in time, I am able to take the blinders off and see what others see and value in me. I want to be whole and connected to all that is around me and within me.

2. What's Holding You Back?

So why can't I commit to myself? Do I think I'm more trouble than I'm worth? I fully admit that I am my own worst enemy. I have a habit of criticizing instead of praising myself; seeing the mistakes instead of the successes.

In recent weeks, I have had two people whose opinions and thoughts I value, tell me in clear and honest terms that I am too hard on myself. I expect too much of myself. I need to let go. These are things that have been said to me before, but this time, I was open to receive the message and it hit its target. My mind was stunned into stillness and the words resonated within, echoing and vibrating all throughout my body while my heart danced its little jig. As mentioned in my previous post "a commitment you can walk away from isn't really a commitment - it's a commitment with a backdoor." My mind - resident judge and critical parent - is my own worst enemy and fancies it and only it knows what is best for me, which has made it difficult for me to shut them out and stay true to the path I have started on. Learning how to self-forgive is something I continue to not only relieve the burden, but to break open the vaults of secrets and to be free.

3. How Much Have You Given?

We were raised to believe that we should give to everyone else -- take care of everyone else -- before we take care of ourselves...at the end of the day, we have nothing left to give...but if you can't commit to give to you, to take care of you, then pretty soon you have nothing left but a broken shell of who you used to be.

When you are running on empty, it's easy to walk all over your self-worth and out the backdoor. And there are ways to cope with stress, anxiety, and challenges - which can be a good thing - but for me, these coping mechanisms end up also becoming my barriers I hide behind. Recently, when out with friends, I excused myself early on in the night saying I had to get home to take care of my dog. My friend looked at me and said, "So your dog - he's your baby? your boyfriend? your son? your husband? your lover?" Ouch! I hadn't realized I had become so transparent! And yet I give - I give of my time, consideration, money for everyone else (especially my job) and hold myself accountable - with a skewed sense of a personal honour code - but this never gets translated to anything I do for myself.

4. What Are Your Alternatives?

Up until recently, I went for the alternative to making a commitment to myself. I made commitments to everyone else...but to commit to me? No, thank you. if you commit to yourself and rely on yourself, when who are you going to blame when things go wrong...of course, I blamed myself anyway - for my own problems and everyone else's as well.

As a woman, I identify strongly in the role of a rescuer and nurturer. As a professional, I identify strongly as a leader, facilitator, and contributor. I've never considered any other alternative. And when I do, I'm riddled with guilt. Why not give into romancing my self? Why not give into whimsy? Why not give into my senses? My alternative has always been to do things that keep me in the captain's chair - to be in control - all because I would prefer to manipulate myself as a way to retreat and stay safe, to never be helpless again or vulnerable. But this alternative has kept me limited in my life choices, and I'm itching to get to the other side and see how much greener the field is on the other side of the bridge.

Commitment is something that I've been sitting with for the past few weeks - I see this act as someone appreciating a really good cigar or scotch - as I ponder on what commitment means to me, I'm enjoying the discovery of its fullness in texture, colours, flavours. While I have a number of interests and things I want to do, I've created a list of things I've committed to doing as a way to invest in me.

Making my home a home - after 6 years of living in my condo, I believe it's time I acknowledge that I am living here and not planning on moving anytime soon. And if I do, who cares! I want to claim this space as my own - and as I browse and research different styles and designs, I'm learning to listen and trust my gut what I want and how I want to transform this space, as well as discovering my own tastes and personality. I've started by declutttering, buying a few furniture pieces but more importantly, I've put a nail in my wall to hang a picture - this to me has always been a representation and test of what commitment means to me.
Shedding the pounds - I'm nearing the big 4-0, and so I've made a commitment to lose 40 lbs before my milestone birthday. I've reached 25% of my goal so far and it's been an amazing feeling to have that goal and also having the dogged determination to want it as well. I've faltered and fallen off the wagon, but I'm not going to let myself stand there as the wagon drives off into the far off distance. I'm totally capable of catching up to that wagon and jumping back on.
Connecting with my self - This is a category that I've grouped a number of hobbies and interests but with the main thread of connecting to my self and continuing to peel back the dead layers so that there is more room to breathe and grow - yoga as a way to connect me to my body and surrounding energies, reading to connect with my mind, writing/painting/music to connect with my creativity, wearing dresses to connect with myself as a woman, to go out at least once a week and do something without my dog so that I'm meeting new people, and so on. I'm doing this to honour a friend who has struggled but lives with such grace and had I been in her place, I don't know if I could have coped. And so for her, I use these daily practices to understand and perfect the art of imperfection, to be comfortable with my vulnerability, and to continue healing.

What and how are you committed to yourself?

You.Shall.Not.Pass.

2014-07-21T23:44:00.001-04:00

I've been rather agitated these past few days, which has triggered an inner battle of flight and fight.

I know I've overcome a number of things over the past few months, and I'm proud of the results achieved.

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.

It takes every bit of strength, discipline and courage to bring myself out of this rut. When those thoughts and feelings overwhelm me and every part of me wants to choose a flight response, I conjure up that scene from Forgetting Sarah Marshall with Jason Segal imitating Gandolf from Lord of the Rings.

You.Shall.Not.Pass!!!

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.)

His fantasy...not mine

2014-05-05T07:28:00.000-04:00

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.

Welcome back Spring. Hello Self-Forgiveness.

2014-04-27T12:42:00.003-04:00

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:

The resident judge: has the loudest voice, always says you are wrong, why you feel the weight of guilt
The critical parent: always scolding, withholding love as punishment, shames you, self-esteem suppressor
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.

Escapes and hard conversations

2014-02-22T12:58:00.001-05:00

It's cold outside. Bitterly cold. Any-moisture-in-your-nose-freezes-when-you-breathe-in kind of cold. Everything stands still or is slow moving...only the warm air out of the furnace vent blows out effortlessly. I love the view outside - everything looks beautiful and magical - but one step outside and the cold saps all my energy and I grow numb.

I hit the pause button on my journey for a little while, cruising in survival mode. As an event planner, the level of stress to create and deliver a major event always escalates to a frenzied pace. I do what I have to do to get through it, and at a certain point I would surrender to that feeling of robotic numbness. I would lose myself in work, feeding off of the adrenaline. Like the air out of the high-efficiency furnace, I've always wanted to give the impression that no matter the challenges and issues, I could make everything look beautiful and magical. Some would say I am a workaholic, but I don’t know how to work hard AND play hard. I only know how to function.

Secret Reveal #6: I stay busy as a way to escape and hide from my reality and my secrets.

Work, I could control and manage things. Work, I could remain emotionless. Work, I could validate my sense of self-worth. Work, I would always find the positive and make things happen. After all, work is one of my holes in my sidewalk - it's a safe place, it's a comfortable place. But when my work environment became its own chaotic and demoralized cosmos, I felt the hole beneath me open up further, leaving a trail of overwhelming disorder and confusion - a sort of tossed salad of reason, reality, deceptions, disillusions, misconceptions, red herrings, logic, emotions, thoughts, beliefs, and anxieties. I hate being in this state and craved the return of the blanket of cold numbness. It would have been so easy to slip back and escape into the old me.

But I can't. I've changed.

I was very much aware of my past shadowing behind me, but I wasn't able to shut it out or shut down like I used to. Its presence was clearly felt, demanding to be acknowledged. Unfortunately I didn't have the self-discipline or energy to put the emphasis on my own needs. So work would creep in and take up its space, but this time, I felt a gnawing resentment towards work and I became aware of my escape responses. The first was to flee - I coped by eating and smoking cigarettes to try and settle the chaos within me, or I cleaned and found ways to stay busy to detach from myself. The other was to fight - I had the impulses to scream, shout, kick, punch, damage things but instead channeled all that tension by helping staff on the snow slides.

But nothing really worked - I couldn't shake off the feeling and guilt that I was once again trying to escape from my reality. In a TED video, Ash Beckham gives a talk We're all hiding something. Let's find the courage to open up.

"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."

My hole in the sidewalk is my version of the closet. Ash Beckham also refers to three principles to get out of the holes and closets:

Be authentic: Being honest with myself is always the hardest conversation to start and listen to, as well as permitting myself to be vulnerable to let the authentic self express itself.
Be direct: I'm better at acknowledging things, but still working on finding my voice to express things - I often like to use analogies, but also learning to better understand the effectiveness of being direct.
Be unapologetic: To stop worrying about what other people think and the perceived expectations are notions I struggle with, but slowly getting better at giving myself permission to do things for me.

Earlier this week, I finally had a moment to myself and I took the opportunity to close the door to work...I ignored it knocking at my door or its repeated calls to be let in. I sat quietly in the Ikea cafeteria enjoying the stillness as I looked out the window and watched all the vehicles speeding on the highway. And then I acknowledged what I had been feeling for the past little while - I wanted off the highway.

I’m done escaping from my past and my secrets. I'm through with just functioning. I am ready to step out and live. And the means to achieve this - I can’t be an event planner for much longer. It's time to move on.

A reflection of my year of healing

2013-12-30T11:33:00.000-05:00

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.

Thirty years later, I still keep a journal. I don't write as often as I should. Last week I finished the latest volume and after I did, I went back to the beginning and began to read. Some of the entries were difficult to read - I cried, I felt the confusion, I remembered the anger, I sensed determination and hope - but above all, I am in awe of the distance of the journey I have traveled thus far.

An excerpt from my first 2013 journal entry:

"New Year's Resolution. There was a time when I wanted nothing more than to throw myself head on into life - to persevere and live deliberately. It was my intention to embrace life and to be happy. But to do so, one has to let go of one's baggage and as much as I tried to believe that I had, all I have done is camouflage it. I still want to strive towards Shangri-La, but I now acknowledge that the path ahead is a lot rougher and it won't be easy. There are so many hurdles to overcome, but I want my freedom more...it burns stronger than ever and it is no longer just about "wanting", but a need to face the truth and transform into the phenomenal woman that I am. I deserve happiness and love and this is a fundamental belief I am working to have in all aspects of my life...My goals for 2013 revolves around the three "As" and one "C" - Awareness, Acknowledgement, Acceptance and Commitment".

2013 started off on a good foot - I began a practice of decluttering with a goal to remove 100 items from my house. I have a tendency to "keep" things - not quite a hoarder - but similar justifications would often play in my mind - I might need it, I'll read it later, I'll use it eventually, I'll upcycle it and make something with it - but the items would simply collect dust. My hope was to start letting go of material things, with the eventuality of transferring this approach to letting go of intangible emotions and beliefs like control, shame, guilt, pain and disassociation.

Letting go of these material things has been an interesting exercise, challenging my emotional attachments and rational logic - starting with my awareness, acknowledgement and acceptance of my behaviour, actions or the lack thereof. It was the challenge that I set for myself this past year and I'm proud I reached that goal of decluttering 100 items. Along the way, I have also shed some of the shame and emotions. "Life Edits," as I like to call them, is now something I am committed to as a way of life.

This past year has been full of up and downs, discoveries about myself and though I still haven't gained the sense of Pura Vida and living deliberately, I have learned to be kind and compassionate towards myself, and along the way, gained a greater sense of inner wisdom and closer connection to my authentic self.