“Never forget me, because if I thought you would, I'd never leave.” A. A. Milne

It was the middle of the night. My aunt woke me up....told me my mother was dead. Then she turned and walked out of the room... left me alone....alone in the dark. I was 12 years old. One year before...my grandmother who looked out for me...died in her sleep.

I've always struggled with good-byes. Whenever someone says good-bye....I panic. It feels like forever........finished....no more.....gone.

Good-bye triggers feelings of being alone....lost....left. Good-bye sounds so final....end of story.

Life changed after my mother died. Everyone left....left me and my sister alone...alone with him. And then my sister left....and I really was alone.

Saying good-bye is hard. When I say goodbye or when someone says it to me....I feel like it's a death....a huge loss....even when it's someone who'se not so important to me. I don't ever say good-bye to my kids. I'm afraid if I do....I'll never see them again....something awful will happen.

Good-bye hurts...it scares me....Even to let go of what I don't want..of anything that's familiar...But life is a series of goodbyes....of constant letting go...To hold on....to never let go doesn't allow other things..good things to come in.

In my head...I'm afraid...afraid to say goodbye...afraid to let go...but there's something I need to say goodbye to. I feel it. I know it. But I'm still afraid. So today...I'm going to practice letting go...to not being afraid to trust....to believe that in letting go....in saying goodbye...something better will come...

"This day, this moment, you have what you need to make your dreams come true." Oprah Winfrey

I used to put all my energy....all my focus on surviving...just getting through each day. I was a fighter. I learned to navigate the streets - the system...to get what I needed just to get by....to survive....to fight my way out of darkness. When I became trapped....I kept one focus....one goal.....determined to get free....And I did - time and time again. I learned determination - focus - will......and even hope...hope that I could survive....that things could be better.

I've figured out....all that street smarts....all that fighter mentality....I can make work for me....to go after what I want. My best friend is always telling me I'm pretty focused....I get something in my head....centre on that one thing...and don't give up until I get it.

I'm not sure what my dreams are right now.....except....I want to make a difference. I want to empower others...help them reach for their stars....to not be afraid to fail....or fall and to never give up. I want to live with purpose. I want my life to count....I want Him to use those things I fought against to help someone else know they can achieve whatever they want.....

I think everything I went through put some principles inside me....it gave me determination to never give up. I can drive myself crazy with being so focused....but that drive pushes me to do what others tell me I can't. When someone says, you can't do that.....let it go.....it will never happen....something inside jumps into gear...jumps into fighter mode.....and determination to prove them wrong takes over.

When I was held by the rapist...I knew I would do anything to get away...to get free....even die if I had to. When I was held by the professionals...trapped in their system...I figured out what I needed to get free - once I got it...I focused only on that until I was free....Focus - determination - will - hope.

Nothing is impossible. Nothing is unattainable.

"No man can think clearly when his fists are clenched." George Jean Nathan
Anger...frustration.....too many things going wrong. I want to scream....run away.....hide.
Anger...frustration courses through my system like a wild stallion....out of control.....stampeding over my life....
Anger...frustration...small things becoming big....huge....overwhelming.
Anger....frustration....it tears at me inside....chipping and pulling and tearing until I feel like I'm cracking.....falling...falling away from me. I try reaching back for sanity....I can't...can't find it....I need to get out... run...go...find release....feel peace again.. I need the calm...the balance...the sanity....

You're so calm...people tell me....But I'm not....I'm angry...frustrated...I don't know how to deal with this...don't know what to do with the out of control feelings that threaten to take me down.....to that place of darkness....of hopelessness...of not caring...

Anger...frustration....has a life of it's own...taking over like a demon possessing my life....and even my body. The tension builds....needing to be released. I'm out the door .....to the woods...don't care that it's cold and muddy and windy....don't care if it rains or snows or hails....Running to release it....trying to outrun it....feeling the pain in my legs from pounding the earth...can't stop....my breathing hard encourages me on....I won't let the anger, frustration rule...I won't let it force me down....running.....feeling the freedom....being outdoors....alone....the pain in my body releasing the angst in my soul.

Anger....frustration....demons to content with...demons that have always tried to destroy with their intense power....their unyielding force....laughing in my face....as if they've won the battle...the fight...I won't let them anymore.....running to be free....running to let go....running to find my way back to myself....to that peace and calm and reason......Run....Breathe...Let go.....

"The human race has one really effective weapon: laughter." Mark Twain

When I was in grade four, my teacher looked at me and said, "you are the saddest looking child I"ve ever seen." I don't ever remember laughing or having fun as a child. I was too scared....too preoccupied trying hard not to make anyone mad. I didn't want them flying into a rage. I didn't want them to hurt me. I never let my guard down. I never smiled and I never laughed.

My best friend Debbie and I have some of the best laughing times ever.... usually when both of us are tired. She says something...I laugh....which makes her laugh again. Then I try to reply to what she said....I can't. I crack up. That starts the chain reaction with her laughing again. Her laughing makes me laugh more and before you know it, the two of us are caught up in nonestop gales of laughter that goes on and on and on. I love when that happens. It's awesome...and a great release.

My youngest has that effect too. Sometimes when I feel stressed and need space...she comes and stands right in front of me making silly faces. When I tell her to go away, she makes a weird face and says something that cuts through my bad mood and cracks me up. The more I tell her to go away...the more she makes me laugh with her goofiness.Whatever I was upset or worried about.....ends up disappearing.. Laughing feels good.

I used to be really of my emotions. I never laughed. I never cried. I was frozen inside. All I felt was fear. And I couldn't let my guard down....I couldn't relax....even a little....to let myself laugh meant trusting life not to hurt me. I didn't believe that.

But I think now....laughing and even crying are gifts He gave us.....when things get too stressful....too overwhelming...laughing is such a great stress reliever.

"There are two ways of exerting one's strength; one is pushing down, the other is pulling up." Booker T. Washington

I had a friend who was labeled violent. He was. He constantly beat people up....smashed things....terrorized everyone. His father had beat and sexually abused him. His uncles did too. When he turned 14 he wanted the power they had....he didn't want to be the victim anyomore. He wanted to be in control....like them.

He showed up at school one day and attacked a kid.... turned over desks and was labeled violent. Everyone was afraid of him....the kids...the teachers....even the authorities. For the next few years he was in and out of treatment centres.....in and out of psych hospitals....heavily medicated. He couldn't hold down a job or live on his own. His rage....his temper became his calling card.

We talked a lot him and I. He told me stuff....stuff from his heart. I found out he could draw like no one else I knew. I wrote a story about a dandelion.....I read it to him. He drew pages and pages of beautiful dandelions....in brilliant color. I saw gentleness in his art...and in him. I saw the human being....the real person.

I told him me and God believed in him. One day he admitted he didn't want to hurt anyone....he never did. He had just wanted the abuse to stop. He didn't know how to make it stop.....and now he didn't know how to stop being violent.

I never told him what happened to me...I never told him I had been beaten, held and raped. I never told him how much I hated the people who hurt me...and how I lived and breathed that hatred. I didn't even tell him how I unleashed all that hatred on myself......I was just there for him....listening....letting him talk...letting him vent his frustrations...and share his heart. I started to see more of the the good in him. Others saw it too. He started trying hard to control his temper and when he couldn't...when he lost it...he started saying he was sorry.

One day his father came to see him. I was there. It shocked me to see how ordinary he looked...like anyone's father.....not deranged...or perverted or weird....just an ordinary man. But I knew what he had done to my friend. I knew his twisted mind.

I remember thinking that day....I don't ever want to be like that man...or like my parents....or like the rapist who held me. I never want to hurt anybody. I want to be kind. I want to care. I want to be gentle like how God has been with me. I want to help pull others up...not tear them down. I just want to make a postive difference....like He did for me.

"I sometimes wonder whether all pleasures are not joy." C.S. Lewis.

I hate cooking. I don' t know how to throw things together to make something great. I eat simple....usually the same things everyday. I grew up not having anyone help me.....teach me....show me how to experience 'normal' eating....or even sharing mealtimes together. And I lived on the streets...runnning, hiding....eating whatever and whenever I could.

Tonight I bought one of those taco packages because the kids have been bugging me for them. I wouldn't eat it. I didn't like the smell of the taco or of the meat. But the kids went crazy....trying it all kinds of ways, grating cheese....then melting the cheese....my youngest loving the flavour of the meat...both running back and forth into the kitchen to heat up more tacos or get more toppings....squealing with laughter....chattering happily.

I ate yogurt....mixed with cereal and blueberries...watching them...fascinated with their delight. There was something about the way they handled the food....their joy....their laughter...experimenting with the different things set out on the table....it all made me feel strange.

I didn't know what that strangeness was....I thought...maybe I'm still carrying that belief I have no right to 'touch' life....or experience it in ways that bring pleasure.

"Pleasure." That's it.....living life with pleasure. I don't know how. How do I let go and enjoy an experience. All I know is how to focus on a goal....a cause....a fight....a struggle that needs to be overcome.

Pleasure....it sounds foreign....But I want it. I want to experience its freedom....and have the joy I saw in my children. I don't know if there's a step, a transition...a way to attain it...a level that I have no idea how to reach.

Pleasure....simple pleasure...joy....a new concept to me... a new goal...something I never thought of....never considered....I've been a fighter...fighting my way through life.

Letting go...trusting the process of life....I wonder if that's it....if that's what I've been afraid to do. Feeling completely safe enough to let go and simply enjoy....

"Everytime you smile at someone it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing." Mother Theresa

As a kid I learned to read people...watching their faces...trying to detect what they were feeling....happy, sad....worried, angry. I thought if I knew what they felt...it would help me stay safe...it would help me not get hurt. I became so in tune with other people's feelings...gauging my own with what they felt. A hint of disapproval, upset or even a scowl....made me afraid...forcing me to do something....anything to make it right for them.

And their look of disgust - impatience...annoyance...triggered my feelings of worthlessness which quickly turned to anger.....causing me to turn on myself. I interpetated what I saw on their face...as 'rejection of me.'

As an adult....I still tried to read people....basing my self-worth on what I thought I saw written on their faces. Encountering anyone....even a stranger....who didn't smile....who scowled....who looked annoyed or dismissive....I took as rejection. Anger kicked in and again I turned on myself... cutting and hurting my body in ways that almost killed me.

I started noticing when someone smiled....it felt different...it felt safe...I felt accepted. Their smile broke through my self-hate....my shame....my feelings of worthlessness.....In some weird way....their smile made a difference.

I've learned I don't know what anyone is going through....I have no idea what they've lived...or are experiencing...Sometimes just a simple smile can made a world of difference to them.

"A mother's treasure is her daughter." ~Catherine Pulsifer

My oldest is turning fourteen on Saturday. For the past couple of years, people have been telling me....wait till she's a teen....then things will get out of control. She'll be wild, mouthy....disrespectful. I told them they don't know my kid. I know her....She's amazing....a great kid...a kid who always sees the positive...the bright side of things...the good in people.. She's my tree hugger....the one who wants to protect the earth and wildlife.... and help others and give back in ways that make a difference.

She's my kid who can fix anything....do mathematics in her head....and create beautiful works of art from scraps of nothing.

But....like her mom, she struggles to make decisions, often doesn't know what she likes or wants and saves her money rather than spending it.

She's never talked back....and when I'm down....she whispers in my ear, Know Hope and rubs my back and tells me things will be ok. Her and I talk about everything and anything. I value her opinion and the amazing thing....she values mine.

I'm totally proud of her. Inspite of where I've come from...she's turned out to be an awesome kid.

When I had her.... I was terrified I would hurt her....that I would do to her what was done to me. I wanted to break that cycle of violence. I spent hours in the dark begging Him to help me be a mom....the kind of a mom I never had....a mom who would love her kids....love them in ways they needed. I had no idea how to do to that. I didn't know how to be a mother. I just knew I didn't want to hurt my kids like I had been hurt. I didn't want them to ever feel the fear, shame and pain I had. I didn't want them to grow up and live on the street, lost, alone.....stoned....vulnerable to every perpetrator of harm.

You know what? He helped me....He helped me love my kids. The gentleness of His love...taught me acceptance and respect. He heard....He made the difference.

“Sometimes my feelings are so hot that I have to take the pen and put them out on paper to keep them from seeing me afire inside....." Mark Twain

I used to be afraid of my feelings. I never knew what to do with them. I would feel someone's pain.....my pain....someone's hurt....my hurt....someone's need....my need and become overwhelmed. The feelings would grab onto me and hang on....screaming to be released. I didn't know how. I had no idea. I just knew all the emotions churned inside and drove me crazy.

I tried getting rid of them.....numbing them out...throwing up...ripping my arms....shooting up....anything to not feel....anything to silence their intensity. When I couldn't quiet them....I turned on myself angry for even having them.

Growing up...it wasn't ok to express anything.....especially fear and sadness. When I started to cry....my parents shoved their fists in my face....threatening I better not cry or they would hurt me. I learned to hold everything inside. I learned to not feel....or at least that's what I thought I was doing. I think though....I just numbed everything out with all the addictions.

It's taken me a long time to learn feelings are neither right or wrong. They just are. They're there. They come and they go. I don't need to be afraid of them.

I've learned healthy ways to release them....like running in the woods. Feeling the pain in my legs grounds me...and being in nature is soothing. It's hard in the winter because I can't run....so I write instead....writing from the inside out....writing from that place where my heart speaks....where all the emotions seem to cluster.

When I need that physical release I work out with the wii or goofing around with my girls. It's not the same as being outside and running but it's better than hurting myself.

Feelings - acknowledging them...embracing them has helped me in connecting back to myself and others.

"Never give in, never give in, never; never; never; never" Winston Churchill

I've always lived on edge....fighting....never feeling safe..always wanting to hide....needing to disappear. Shame consumed me.....crippled me...made me feel less than human....hideous....ugly....unacceptable.

I learned to fight....to stay alive even though everything inside me screamed to give up...give in...die. Something in me, though, kept fighting...fighting hard...fighting to stay alive....to push back against all the brutality.

I watched friends give in to the darkness.....ending their lives....unable to fight anymore. I lived numb...aching inside...desperate to belong....desperate to stop the cycle of pain....Nothing worked....nothing could free me from the chains that held me in their grip. Nothing except......His touch...the touch of His gentleness. He did what nothing else could....One touch of the power of His gentleness broke through the darkness....broke through the chains....He was the key that turned the lock and broke through when nothing else could even make a dent.

My friend died....took all the pills her doctor gave her. She couldn't fight anymore. She couldn't hang on. She was kind and gentle....but she had no peace....she lived in constant turmoil....wondering why she had to live as if she weren't alive....in torment.....her mind never quieted from the angst in her soul.

I never knew life could be....fun....connected.....free. I want others who are where I was, to know....they can experience freedom. I learned if we hang on long enough...life changes...the bad can turn good.....But when you're fighting in the darkness....it seems like it will never change....It does...it really does.

"The great enemy of the truth is very often not the lie -- deliberate, contrived and dishonest -- but the myth -- persistent, persuasive and unrealistic" John F. Kennedy

I carted the 10 pound bag of potatoes home...proud I had gotten them on sale for just $2.50. Just two potatoes would have cost close to a buck. But by the end of two weeks we had used only four of the potatoes and had to throw the rest of the bag out.

I was buying things in bulk because someone told me it's a great way to save money. My therapist asked why I was buying so much when we only used a fraction of what I bought. Her words stunned me. I never thought about it. All I thought about was the saving factor.

She showed me the value in buying only 4 potatoes even if they cost $2.00. It was better than paying $2.50 for a huge bag of an item that ended up in the garbage.

Myths....I didn't know I was defeating the purpose I was trying to achieve. And there's been other things....like going away.... holidays. People said I needed to go away for a full week...even two, but I get nervous being away from home too long. I would end up going away for a week or ten days but spend most of the time worrying and wanting to go home after four. My therapist said.....just go for four days. I was shocked at her words and wondered, can I do that? Nobody does that.

I wanted so much to fit in, to be like everybody else so I tried to do what I thought was right. Growing up....it wasn't ok to have my own needs or think my own thoughts or feel my own feelings. I couldn't cope....so I disappeared. I went away in my head and used dope and threw up and cut myself to be invisible. Learning that it was ok to have my own needs and thoughts and feelings has been really difficult. It's taken me a long time but I've learned.... something may be right for one person...and not necessarily right for someone else. And also, everyone needs to honor their own truth. There is no right or wrong.

"I looked at my hands to see if I was the same person. There was such a glory over everything! The sun came up like gold through the trees, and I felt like I was in heaven. ” Hariiet Tubman

Harriet Tubman...a slave....knew about being treated less than human. She had been beaten by those who owned her..... not just once....many times. They left scars on her body....and scars on her soul...Somehow she learned to be a fighter. She escaped.....found freedom......found safety. Yet something pulled at her....tugged at her heart....made her risk her life to return over and over and over to help others also know freedom.

It had been dark for so long...when He finally freed me from the drugs....I walked outside and looked around at the trees, the flowers, the sun, the sky....Everything looked so brilliant...like velvet. The colors....the textures....I wanted to touch everything. It's almost like I had never seen any of it before....

Freedom! It made me see the world differently. It's as if my eyes had been blurred. Everything had been so dark, dim, shaded. I felt like I had been given a new pair of eye glasses that brought everything magically into perfect focus.

Freedom - When I was trapped, a slave to the drugs - nothing mattered except my need to survive from one day to the next, one hit to another. The same with the eating disorder....all I could think about was the addiction....and how to survive.

I have recieved so many emails and phone calls from people who've read my book...telling me they're finding healing for themselves....and hope for their own freedom....I resisted telling my story. I fought hard not wanting anyone to know what had happened. But now...with every email, every phone call.....I want to tell and keep telling.....I want to help someone else find freedom.

And I just found out February is Black History month...makes me especially happy to honor the life of Hariiet Tubman.

An apology is the superglue of life. It can repair just about anything. ~Lynn Johnston

We met shortly after I began writing. She critiqued something I wrote online. Then we found out we lived 20 minutes away from each other. She wanted to meet. I couldn't....not for three months. A year later we have become the best of friends...talking every day....sharing our lives, our hopes, our dreams....our fears.

From the first time we met, she's been there....in my corner....supportive - encouraging me to tell what I never could. When I struggled to talk....and couldn't stand to have anyone look at me.....she sat - waited in the dark. When I tried to speak...tried to tell what happened....the words getting caught inside - not being able to get them out....she waited....prayed...sat in the darkness with me. Over time I did share the worst....speaking in broken sentences....not finishing whole thoughts.....starting...stopping - my words faltering.....She waited and prayed and stayed.

Tonight she told me there was something she wanted to say.....something she had wanted to tell me since last year.....when she knew what had happened.
I'm sorry for what happened to you. I'm sorry for what they did. I'm sorry that P. held you down and let him rape you. As a woman I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. And if anyone ever hurt you now I would fight for you.

Her words took me off guard. No one had ever said they were sorry for what happened. I had fought alone. I had fought hard to survive....with no one in my corner. No one helping me....only those who hurt me....holding me.....preventing me from being free. P was the woman who helped the rapist hold me in that place. She had the keys....the opportunity to let me go....she wouldn't. And she held me down and let him rape me. I used to think she too was a victim because I didn't believe a woman could hurt anyone the way she hurt me.

I didn't know what to say to my friend, but in some crazy way.....her words are healing. I'm sorry for what happened to you....I'm sorry they hurt you. I'm really sorry and if anyone hurts you again....I'll fight for you

"Kindness is a language we all understand. Even the blind can see it and the deaf can hear it." Mother Teresa

I slumped in the oversized chair and closed my eyes. I couldn't bear to look at the kindness etched on their faces. It hurt too much. I was used to fighting to get my needs met....fighting against people who used me...hurt me for their own purposes.

You can come here anytime...no questions asked. And.help yourself to anything in the fridge or cupboards. I sat frozen in that chair....hardly able to breathe.....shivering even though it was warm in the room. It was because of their kindness.....their gentle words...it stunned me....took me off guard. I had no idea how to react to it.

Kindness - it was something I hadn't known.....something I didn't understand. I sat in that chair holding myself rigid...on guard...suspicious of this couple who didn't want to take anything from me. Instead....they just wanted to show kindness.

Kindness - it felt strange....painful. I knew how to fight people who wanted something from me. I had become an expert at biting, kicking, running. I knew nothing about staying...nothing about accepting kindness.

It's taken me a long time to trust the goodness from others. Even now, when I'm really tired....I can feel my guard go up....anticipating someone wanting to hurt me.

That couple ran a drop in centre. They never put any pressure on me to do anything. They simply let me come and go whenever I wanted. When it was cold out and I had nowhere to go, they let me stay there. I couldn't talk. I couldn't even say thank-you. They accepted that....and never forced me to say or do anything....They never asked for anything in return. I've never forgotten them. I've never forgotten what they did for me. I don't know if they even knew the effect they had. I hope they did.

And there were others - a social worker, a cop, this guy who worked in a kitchen in a restaurent....when I wanted to give up...they reached out and touched me with their kindness.

I want to live my life paying forward the kindness that had been given to me...the kindness that made a difference.

“Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You.” Dr. Seuss

When he was hungry....he insisted I was too. When he wanted to sleep...he forced me to lie down with him. When he felt sad or happy or scared and I didn't feel the same....he screamed that I had no feelings. Whatever he liked, whatever he wanted, whatever he needed - I had to feel the same. I had no idea who I was - what I wanted or needed or liked or didn't like. I had no identity. I became whatever he needed.

Being seen....being known has been my biggest issue. I've spent a lot of time hiding...I still struggle with being present. I feel safer alone even though I do connect easily with people. People tell me all the time I'm friendly, outgoing...fun. And they say they feel close to me. But at a certain point...I stop being present.

I'm used to reading people instead of relaxing....and just being. I can only just be for so long and then something happens inside me. There's a restlessness...and a detachment...I stop paying attention. I want to leave....get away....withdraw.....write.

When I write I can be me. Writing gives me a freedom - it makes me feel connected....it lets me be real...I can say what I want....I can say the truth. And I write in the dark...with the lights off.. The darkness helps me to feel....it helps me stay connected to me.

When I had my youngest daughter....I asked my oldest who was then five...if she was jealous of the baby. She said, 'No I'm not jealous because she is the best she is and I am the best I am.' Pretty powerful words. I've never forgotten them.

Being real...being seen. I'm still working on this...