Acceptance & True Love

Today was a good day. I spent the day with my future in laws and then with friends at a baby shower.

Today after a very long time, I found myself reconnected with my true authentic self. The self I discovered when I first moved away from home, the self that was fully present and happy in the moment. I was happy in the moment today. It was such a nice feeling!!!!

For the last three plus years, I have been grieving …. even though I didn’t know it 100%, I have been grieving the loss of my birth family. They are still around but I have lost any expectation I could have from them, as I have been consistently disappointed by them.

But, I have been in denial, I have been shocked, I have been angry and depressed. I have even tried to bargain with them, find ways to get my needs met. I have tried every possible equation that could equal validation, approval, acceptance. But these are three variables I will not have (from them).

But I have many other variables in life that I am grateful for. I have amazing friendships, an amazing chosen family, amazing in laws, amazing boyfriend. And I think, its ok to say, I am quite awesome too 🙂

What’s most awesome and amazing, I think, is that I am finally more and more often in a place of acceptance. Hooray!!!!!! I don’t get so angry/depressed when my parents and brother do what they do. Now, more often than not, I can detach, I can say “oh there it is”, I can even see the irony or humor in their illogical actions.

I think more and more often, I accept that I don’t need their validation, their acceptance, their approval. More and more I feel, I don’t need that from them because, u know what, if in 32 years (now you know my age :P) they couldn’t figure out how awesome I am, yet hundreds and hundreds of other people could, well then, quite frankly, why do I need THEIR acceptance, validation and approval?? I have it from many many many other people, who can see my authentic self, appreciate it – maybe even be inspired by it. But if these three individuals want to control me, tell me who to be, judge me, maybe even oppress me, and basically stick me in a box – well then, I’m better off spending less of my time and energy on them.

 


 

Love is patient, love is kind …. you know the rest. The point is, love is unconditional and accepting. If they can’t do that, then sure they ‘love’ me but they don’t really love me in the true sense of the word. 

Sometimes, I may feel sad again or angry. But, I hope that more and more, I will continue to accept that, I have love. I have acceptance and validation. Most importantly, I approve of myself, and I don’t need anyone else’s! 

I have a lot to be grateful for. No one’s life is perfect. I wasn’t given a birth family that I wanted. But even in that there is a silver lining. 🙂

 

Chit Chat.

My Writing Journey ….

 

writing-imageI began with reading like everyone else. But since grade 1, I was the kid that had to come home and immediately do her homework, read the books assigned etc. I loved school and the stories.

I wrote reflection papers and in Grade 7 received honourable mentions about my insight into arranged marriages by my social studies teacher.

I found my love of poetry in Grade 9, and by Grade 10 I was accused of plagiarism by my English teacher because my poems were so good, I couldn’t have written them, since I could not write an essay to save my life. 😛

Through these poems, I first started to put words to the abuse that I felt. The one at monsterstood out the most, was the one I titled “the monster inside me”. I was so afraid someone would find this, that I folded it into the tiniest rectangle and hid it in the crack between my dresser and mirror. Back then, I felt debilitating shame about the fact that I was abused, I didn’t know yet, that is what it was called. I just felt like an evil child, that no one had yet discovered, because I was so sweet and loved by others.

Then, I discovered journalling, and in writing, for the first time, disclosed that I was sexually abused to my parenting teacher, for our journalling project. Thanks to her braveness, I learned that its still abuse even if you became aroused. I then slowly learned, I wasn’t a monster or an evil child. (Thank God!)

Since age 16, I have been writing in my journals. I then started a blog. When it became popular amongst people who knew me, I felt vulnerable/exposed and shut down. I did not write for many years, until I decided to start this blog, this time keeping it anonymous. Again, when I received validation and views, I again, began to feel exposed, fear and doubt creeped in.

writers-blockI will be honest. I have let fear keep me from writing. But I have also been connecting with my authentic self. She loves writing, she is very creative. She can paint, dance, sculpt, decorate, you name it. So now, I am going to try my best to be brave again, and continue with my journey of writing, because it is also my journey of authenticity, self-expression, and joy from sharing my true self with others. 🙂

Please leave a comment if you have any advice for me on how to overcome this type of writer’s block!!!!!

Chit Chat. ♥

The parent anti-oxident

“They gave birth to you …”

“I’m sure they mean well….”

“They love you very much….”

“They will come around….”

Things people will say with very good intentions to help console those that are estranged from their parents. I have hoped and prayed that my parents would come around. I have tried my very best to let the fact that they gave me life, loved me and tried their best to wash away my negative feelings. I have let go and forgiven many times only to realize I haven’t really let go or forgiven completely. None of this has been half-assed. I have honestly been working my pretty little ass off.

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Yet, here I am. Again, at a crossroad, between a rock and a hard place, whatever you want to call it – its the hardest place, most painful place I have ever had to be. And I hate having to come back to this place again and again after I have done everything I know how to do to work through my feelings and move forward. Like seriously, how many fucking feelings do I have? Because they just keep coming, and each one is harder than the first.

The precursor was anxiety. I spent two years working through my anxiety disorder to discover other underlying emotions. The first layer I faced was guilt and shame. I worked through that and improved my self-esteem and self-worth. That was a lot of work over a lot of years –  but I did it!! And I am now a proud assertive woman. 🙂 Then, came the anger and rage. This was harder than guilt and shame. But again, I worked through it – in therapy, on the subway writing in my journal, meditating, taking breaks, talking to people, crying in the shower, talking in my sleep, sobbing in my sleep, exercising, self-soothing, taking supplements, eating healthy, praying, reading etc. Like I said, I really worked hard. Then, came some empathy and forgiveness. What a relief! I could reconnect a little and let go a little. Right until the disappointment from my parents present actions pushed me right back into anger, rage, and a new layer of emotion – grief.

So here we are. Grief and loss. No my parents are alive not dead. But apparently, my childhood sucked so bad that they might as well be dead – at least that is how my body is physically reacting. I don’t want that, but my body is grieving the loss of my healthy and alive parents! How messed up is that?

Then the criticism I experienced my whole life sets in. I must be a bad child. I must be over-sensitive. I mean they gave me life and loved me and did their best. How is it that I can logically get that, want to forgive them, but the forgiveness does not stick? Am I just a resentful, vindictive, parent punishing small person? I didn’t think I was, I mean, I give all the time to others, like literally majority of my life I am giving to others. So, seriously, what the fuck??

Then eventually all the work I have been doing begins to pay off. Its not me its them. Society is wrong on this one. We have a culture of silence about talking about how loving, caring, well meaning parents can screw up their children. How? Because of low or no emotional intelligence, inability to manage their own stress/life, own insecurities and unresolved issues, lack of resources, unwillingness to seek help, unwillingness to acknowledge that they could be wrong even with good intentions, unwillingness to give up the blame game or victim mentality. In other words, because they were never brave enough to face their own shadows or resolve their own baggage, and somehow thought they could raise another human being, without the shadow or baggage impacting their child. Well, I’ll be honest, either thats just really dumb, illogical, careless and/or selfish. Yes, having a child without being emotionally prepared for it, puts you at risk of being a toxic parent.

So now what? I go on the internet to google ‘how to work through your estrangement with your parents’ and many other similar searches. Almost all the links are for parents who’s children have cut them out. Poor parents, here is how to cope if your child doesn’t want to have anything to do with you. Really? Even google is telling me that the world thinks its the child’s fault. REALLY? So after another round of self-criticism, I finally come back to the realization that the internet is wrong – again only because now I have been working my very pretty little ass off. Seems like its gonna get really pretty before I find some resolution. 😛

But there is good news. YAY!! I love posts with a happy ending too (its the Bollywood, rom com lover in me ) I have done the hard work to find one book that looks promising and so far it has really been helping. The audio version is going to be my mantra to and from work. Its called “Toxic Parents” by Susan Forward. I hope Susan is forward thinking enough to help me detox out of this mess. But I am prepared for a disappointment like some other books I have read. But at least I have some hope again, and its going to be back to the workout of my life – working and working so damn hard, all because – lets face it – I had lazy, flabby assed parents!!

Chit Chat.

Inner Child

The last few weeks have been difficult for me. After four years of therapy, my therapist and I came to identify that there is still a lot of healing to do. Although, I have learned that it is not my fault, processing feelings is complex – just when you think its done, another layer appears.

In all these years, I have never truly connected with my inner child. Whenever I talk about the abuse, which is rare, I talk about it as if it happened to someone else. I was shocked to discover this, I never realized this before, I talk about it very matter of fact, very disconnected. The fear of facing the grief, of facing any left over feelings of shame/guilt, and therefore the fear of connecting with my inner child has been terrifying.  I have finally come to a logical place, been able to move past my abuse and I don’t want to lose it all….

As I began to connect with this part of myself – emotions rushed in. It felt like I was nine years old again. Very weird feeling, to be a fully grown woman and feel unsafe even in your therapist’s office. Logic isn’t what can explain the feelings of the inner child. But these feelings, so old but so real, like time had never passed. I can’t do justice to these feelings with words, I wish I could. But its the first time I have truly felt speechless.

And for the last two weeks, I have been speechless. Unable to comprehend, unable to explain to others, unable to journal or meditate. I have found ways to sit with my feelings but its been a world wind. I guess, I finally opened that pandora’s box, when I allowed my therapist to take control of the session, and stopped rejecting her help with this topic. Although I’m glad to move towards healing, another part of me is screaming, what was I thinking, giving up control again? Which is ironic, because I too am a therapist, and a good one too – yet being in therapy is never easy – no matter how much you know.

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After a lot of tears, numbness, dreams, reflection and reading, I have come to realize a few very very important things:

  1. When I imagine my inner child at the time of the abuse, and I imagine soothing her, talking to her, connecting to her (as recommended for healing), I feel so incredibly guilty – and that is after I am even able to move past the numbness and connect. Guilty for ignoring her all this time, guilty for ignoring all the signs that she needs comfort.
  2. As I overcome some of this guilt, I realize that she is a wonderful child. She was so smart, so wise, so courageous, so positive and so skilled and doing her best to protect herself, protect me.
  3. As I learn to connect, I feel her intense grief, but also realize this is my grief. Mostly, for allowing myself to treat myself so poorly and reject the one person, who protected me – my own inner child.
  4. As weird, uncomfortable or illogical it may feel, learning to comfort myself and talk to my inner child, has been allowing me to feel some sense of happiness in a way I can’t explain. It is like gaining back a relationship I had lost, filling of a void that I forget is empty since I have been so good at filling it with other meaningful relationships.
  5. I continue to learn that my inner child, my authentic self is very special. She is very smart, beautiful, funny, caring, loving, able to think of others even in the worst of times, she is a very gentle soul. She truly amazes me, how at age 9, she could be so wise and giving. This brings me to tears because I have ignored this fact for over 20 years. I have allowed myself to constantly criticize and constantly shame myself.
  6. I have realized my inner child does not deserve the treatment I have been giving her. She doesn’t deserve to constantly feel like she has to be perfect, to prove that she is a good person, or to constantly desire approval/love from others. She deserves to just be and be celebrated for her courage, for her amazing self.

A big sigh of relief and a sigh of sadness. I will call this the happy-grief feeling. I am happy to know my  inner child. I never truly felt special, although I am lucky enough to have people tell me this all the time. A part of  me always doubted what they said. Maybe a relationship with my inner child is the only way I can truly fill this void. I think I realize the hardest part of abuse, is losing yourself, because every child blames themselves. What I’ve learn is that its easier for children to believe they could have changed something than to realize that it was not in their control, this is very scary as a child; to be in a world where you cannot change/control the horrible things happening to you. And it is even worse when your abuser blames you and emotionally manipulates you into thinking its your fault. And that is what my grief is about, for myself and for all the other children in this world who suffer.

As hard as that is for me, and I do feel that sadness quite often, I try to remind myself that I am one person, and I do my best to help others recover as I continue to recover myself. I have come a very long way and now I have the privilege of being able to heal fully, to be able to afford therapy, to be able to be supported by my partner, friends, co-workers, and my supervisors. I am truly very blessed. I hope that as I keep healing, I can continue to advocate, raise awareness about what it is like to recover from abuse, and help people truly heal and not just cope indefinitely. As I previously said in a post, I am trying to prioritize getting better vs. getting by.

 

Chit Chat.

Waves

 

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The beach has always been my favourite place. I always described it as the crux of life, where the calm meets the storm, where both parts of our life come together in harmony.

For me, the beach is THE definition of life: the crashing waves unto the calm and stable sand. The uncontrollable waves, with the capacity to be beautiful, calm, peaceful or scary and destructive. And the control and stability of the sand, which is always there after the storm. For me, the balance between the two, no matter how ironic, has been the beautiful oxymoron of life.

Now I have come to a new understanding of waves – emotional waves. Waves of emotion that I cannot control. Fun times (insert sarcasm here) …. another thing to get use to that is not in my control. But I do often tell my clients to accept their emotions, give their emotions room to breathe, and validate their emotions. Easy enough? hmm….

But after a therapy session, all I want to do is say, fuck! no more waves of emotions please, I’d like to close the door on this now and not come back until next week – k? But of course our emotions don’t work that way (insert tears here). They are physical and live in our body, coming as a wave, and we have to acknowledge its existence, tolerate the wave and ride it out …  I guess I better take some surfing lessons 😛

I will continue to think of the waves of the beach to calm me every time the waves of grief, rage, and other unexplainably intense emotions come my way. I will try more often and try my hardest to not be a hypocrite as I recover from my own trauma and help others with theirs.

Wish me luck,

 

Chit Chat.

 

Happiness

Happiness

Today, watching the sunshine creep in through my translucent red drapes, listening to music, staring at a pile of my laundry, I realized, this is what happiness feels like. I can say that I have reconnected with the pure joy that I have always longed for and for a while it disappears at times. Today, I have realized it has reappeared, and that I am satisfied and happy with my choices in life and everything that I have to be grateful for.

This being said, no one would know, that less than 48 hours ago, I had received unwanted contact from my past abuser. How he obtained my contact info is still a mystery, but what is clear, is that I am no longer a helpless child. My heart was beating out of my chest when his message and face appeared on my cell phone what’s app box, and I hoped to god it was someone else. The fear that has been stored in my body returned will full force, I can say, sitting here in another country miles away from my abuser, I still felt scared.

But, thanks with the help of counselling, I was able to recognize my fear for what it was — a survival skill from the past coming back with the memories. I reminded myself that I am no longer helpless, I am no longer in danger and this sad sad sad person has absolutely no hold over my life. In fact, the only thing he deserves is pity (and maybe some hatred). So I did what my brave but feisty nine year old self wanted to do a long time ago – stand up for myself. I not only told him where to go but also how little he was worth. I think for this one, a little immaturity and anger will suffice.

Then I remembered what I’ve learned from Ekhart Tolle, the power of now. That is right. I then quickly reminded myself that this person does not deserve to take away another moment of my happiness away from me and moved along with my life – accomplishing lots at work, spending quality time with myself and my loved ones. So today, watching the sunshine in my apartment, I remember, how lucky I am and how special I really am.

Disclosure

20 years.

I have made a decision after twenty years to tell my parents about my childhood abuse. This is the hardest decision I have ever had to make, and I am consumed with it. I think about it all the time, it is distressing and worrisome. Anxiety and Depression have creeped back into my life. Meanwhile, I am finding a way to care for myself as I care for others.

I was convinced that I would never tell my parents. I read that children do not disclose abuse to parents if they are worried about their reactions, worried their parents cannot handle it or worried that their parents will be unable to validate them. Ditto, ditto, ditto.

I had convinced myself that disclosure would never be an option because my parents would not understand, would not be able to handle the emotions and would not be able to respond maturely. I lived with the burden of this secret and the pain of forever isolation for 20 years.

I am still worried about these things. The only thing that has changed is the clarity I have gained about the impact this secret has on my emotional health, my relationship with myself, my parents and my partner. I do not want to keep this secret anymore. I don’t want the burden anymore. I did nothing wrong.

I did nothing wrong. But I worry. I am standing up for the little girl inside me. I am giving her a voice. I am giving her visibility. I am highlighting her struggle, I am highlighting her pain, I am highlighting her isolation.

20 years. Everyday I dream or dread the possible reactions they might have. Most of them are negative. I have started to distance myself to prepare myself for the worst. I am unsure if this is the right thing to do. But, it is my coping strategy at this time.  Everyday, is getting harder to wait, 20 years and now 20 days seems dreadfully long.

I hope and pray that it will come out the right way. I hope that my integrity and self esteem will remain intact after the disclosure. I pray that the anger will not take over. I pray that I will be prepared and able to survive what comes after.