The Retreat

Many people have asked me about the retreat and what it was like.  I say it was amazing or enlightening but those words don't seem adequate enough.  Intense, emotional, educational also can't capture the essence of the retreat.  The foundation has really invested in the healing and educating of women who were taught or shown at a very early age, that life can be cruel, ugly and unfair.  Everything from the house to the food to the staff is carefully selected to promote self care, health and empowerment.  Nothing is pushed on anyone.  If you didn't feel like attending a class, you didn't have too.  If you wanted to sleep in, that was OK.  The goal is to empower the survivors to make choices and live lives that may have seemed impossible before. 

One of the few rules at the retreat were pictures were not allowed.  Since many of the women there may not want to have people know where they are or that they were there, no one is allowed to use cameras.  It's unfortunate because the house was BEAUTIFUL!!  The bedrooms were big enough to sleep 6 comfortably, with 3 sets of bunk beds.  Most of the classes were held either in the library or the common areas, all rooms furnished with big comfy chairs or couches.  Colors were soft and comforting.  Everyone is gifted a water bottle upon arrival, and there are fountains throughout the residence to stay hydrated.  Everything was carefully designed for comfort, safety and healing.  It was a beautiful home nestled amongst majestic mountains, hidden away from the real world.

While the house was breathtaking, it would have been meaningless without the staff, who went out of their way to attend to the needs of everyone.  As I mentioned before, I was over 4 hours late in getting to the retreat and assumed that the staff would be annoyed at having to make special provisions for me but instead I was greeted kindly and warmly.  The staff genuinely cared about the participants.  During the week, the first question was usually, how are you today?  Followed by, did you sleep OK?  These were not just "making conversation" questions.  They were sincere and attentive to details to make the participant as comfortable as possible.  The food prepared was delicious but also nutritious. Anyone with a food allergy had a comparable substitute, prepared just as lovingly and carefully as the main dish.  As a participant, I knew I could go to my case manager or therapist with a need or a request and they would take it seriously and try to assist in anyway possible.  While there, I didn't have to "worry" about much, which allowed me to focus on myself.  It allowed me to connect with the other participants.

Often times, sexual abuse is not something most people discuss.  Whether the victim is told not to discuss with anyone else or doesn't feel comfortable discussing it, it is a secret that hides in the deep, dark recesses of our mind.  At the retreat, we all knew why we were there.  We may not have know the details of each story but we all had the common thread of being a survivor.  Because of this, we connected on a deeper level.  We were all on different parts of our healing journey but we were there together.  It was a sisterhood made up of women from all different ages, backgrounds and walks of life.  In these women, I saw beauty, compassion, courage and most importantly strength.  The inner strength and grace that surrounded me inspired and uplifted me.  To know that I am not alone in some of the ways I struggle or more normal than I may have thought, was healing for me.  To know that I can continue to count on these women for support and encouragement is a blessing.

This was a once in a lifetime experience that I will forever be grateful to have been a part of.   

As always, thank you for reading and take care.  

Seeing Myself

One of the first things I did at the retreat was to write down some goals for the week.  That is a new concept for me.  I don't usually think of goals outside of work.  One of my goals was to see myself for who I am.

When I began therapy in January, my therapist asked me to list all of my good qualities and I came up with less than 10 adjectives.  Funny enough, I only had that many because I went by what others have told me in the past.  Intellectually, I can list some positive things about myself but I don't feel the positive.  Often times when someone compliments me, I verbally say thank you but internally it's another conversation entirely.  Sometimes I feel if the person really knew me, they wouldn't say the nice things.  If its someone who really knows me or loves me, I feel like the affection he/she feels for me is clouding his/her judgment.  Why do I feel this way?  Why can't I be objective about myself?  Why can't I see the bad and the good?  Why do I only focus on the bad?

Take what happened the day of my arrival to the retreat.  Instead of thinking that I had miscalculated a few times, I immediately began to belittle myself.  How dumb of me not to get there early?  I should have known that missing my flight was a possibility.  How stupid of me! What is wrong with me?  All of these negative things ran through my mind in a loop.  The foundation was going to regret inviting me to participate.   As this negativity ran through my mind, I felt so low and so defeated.

When I got to the retreat, I was greeted with warmth, compassion and understanding.  They thanked me for being so patient while they arranged transportation.  They stated it was a brave thing I was doing and they were so happy that I made it.  Wow! Not only were they not mad, they were validating that I still deserved to be there.  When I sat down with my therapist, she asked what my goals were and immediately, I knew that I needed to change how I saw myself.   I can't be all bad if I deserved this wonderful treatment.

In the retreat, there are certain classes/programs that are chosen for the whole team and some that you choose for yourself.  I chose classes that would support me in achieving my goals.  One of the programs that are for all of the participants, is a makeover and a photo session.  I was a little nervous about the make over, as I wasn't sure the stylist could style my hair in a way that I would like.  I explained that I didn't want my hair to look frizzy.  They proceeded to style it and as others walked by, they commented on how good it looked.  I was not convinced and waited to see the finished the product.  When they turned the chair around, I was NOT happy.  My hair looked huge!  I don't like big hair.  They realized I was not happy and asked how to fix it.  I explained that I didn't like how puffy it seemed.  They put some bobby pins and I just accepted that I wouldn't love these pics.  While I loved the make up, my hair was a hot mess.  But I couldn't really say that to these amazing people who went out of their way to do my hair and make me feel beautiful.

As I sat waiting for the photographer, I realized that I still had time to fix it.  Why just accept that my hair looked like a lion's mane?  So, I went to the little bathroom next to the photo studio and I applied some water and repositioned the bobby pins.  When the photographer saw me, she said my hair looked amazing but I told her I hate it.  She didn't get upset or make me feel ungrateful.  She told me that while she thought I looked great, if I was really unhappy, she would allow me to come back the next day and take pictures with my hair styled by me in a way that I liked. I couldn't believe it.  It was up to me if I wanted to retake my pictures.  I had a choice.

I did my hair the next morning and I felt good.  It came out cute and just the way I liked it but I didn't choose to retake my pictures.  Why? Because I want to see myself the way other people saw me.  Truth is that I am good at not only tearing myself down mentally but also picking myself apart physically.  I hate taking pictures for this very reason.  My weight has fluctuated so much over the last 10 years and I hate looking in the mirrors.  As a matter of fact, I look in the mirror as little as possible.  But as I said, I was opening myself up to this new experience and my goal was to see myself for who I am.  When we receive our pictures in a few weeks, I would see the final outcome.  Well, I didn't have to wait a few weeks because on my last day, we were surprised with a print from our photo session.  I had so many emotions flowing through me that day and I didn't want to add to that by being disappointed in my picture.  That shows how negative I can be about myself.  The first thing I thought was that it was a bad picture.

It has been over 24 hours since I've been given that picture and I have showed it to my husband and my sister.  I am now ready to look at the picture.  Why?  Because my body doesn't define me my beauty.  I am beautiful inside and out.  I am a good person with a good heart and I deserve to be happy and confident in my skin.  I may not be there yet but I will get there.

As always, thank you for reading and take care.  

Better Late Than Never

Going on a trip is always a little stressful.  First there is the packing, then getting to the airport, going through security and finally reaching your destination.  I've always heard that you should aim to be at the airport 1 hour before domestic flights and 2 hours before international flights.  I assumed this was to make sure you get through security.  Boy was I wrong.

My friend, who lives in Queens, allowed me to stay at his house the night before my trip.  I was so close to the airport and it was only a domestic flight, so I was all set for my 6:59 AM flight.  I woke up at 5:15 AM and figured I would leave by 5:30 AM to get to the airport by 6 AM.  That was my first mistake.  I should have planned to be out of his house by  5:15.  I ordered Uber Pool, which was my next mistake.  According to the driver's GPS, I should have reached the airport by 6 AM but then another call came in and that delayed my arrival to the airport by 10 minutes.  I checked in from the cab and thought, it's a little close but I will still make it.  They were boarding by 6:19 and I would have to hoof it to the gate but I would make it.  At least, that's what I was praying for. 

Well, I get to the airport and go immediately to drop off my bag.  The first sign of trouble, the ticket agent looked at my ticket (on the phone) and then on the computer and shook her head.  Uh oh..  What is going on?  She then asked her co-worker for confirmation that I had to be redirected.  The coworker nodded and I was sent to "Rebooking."  That should have clued me in that I wouldn't be making my flight but I was cautiously optimistic.  I walk over and speak with the agent who proceeded to tell me that my luggage needed to be checked in an hour before the flight and I had missed the cut off.  WHAT??  Since when was there a cut off time for luggage??  Instant panic, what was I going to do?  She told me my only option was to get on the next flight, which didn't leave until 11:10 AM.  I asked to speak with the manager, as it slowly dawned on me that for the first time ever, I had missed a flight.  The manager confirmed that I had no choice but to rebook my flight.  Not only did I have to pay an extra $75 but there were no seats in Delta Comfort.  This was horrible.

Now, many people may not know this but when I get angry, sad, frustrated, upset or anything, I cry.  Tears are instant.  As you can imagine, tears were streaming down my cheek as I now worried about how I was going to get to the retreat once I got to Salt Lake City.  In the email I received from the foundation, it was very clear that I had be at the airport by 11 AM, MT or find my own ride to the retreat. My new flight wouldn't get into Salt Lake until 2:30 PM.  All I thought about was the money that I would have to spend and how stupid of me to not be at the airport earlier.  I texted my husband and my sister to explain what had happened.  My husband immediately called me and I burst out crying.  I couldn't help it.  All the pent up nerves and excitement of the upcoming retreat mixed with the frustration and anxiety of missing my flight. He was ready to take the train from CT and come to the airport to be with me but that would have taken him over 2 hours to get to me.  Instead, he video chatted with me for 1 hour, until the tears dried and I was finally calmed down.

I emailed the retreat and explained how I had missed my flight and wouldn't get there until 2:30 PM.  As I waited for my new flight, I tried to do a puzzle, but realized I didn't have a pen.  I tried to get on the Wi-Fi with my laptop and it wouldn't connect.  My anxiety was through the roof.  I checked my carry on bag to get on the flight earlier and then realized that my headphones were in the carry on.  I was now facing a flight that was supposed to last over 5 hours without any way to watch the entertainment.  This was not the way I wanted to start the week.

My luck started to change when the flight attendant explained that the headphones from the airline would be free because the WiFi was spotty.  YES! I could now watch a movie.  When I landed in Salt Lake City and turned my phone on, I had both a text message and email from the retreat asking me to call them.  I called and with baited breath I waited to see what my options were.  To my surprise, I was told they would handle my transportation.  They would call and email me back with the details.  Within 20 minutes, I was re-assured that my shuttle ride from the airport was scheduled and I was not paying for it.  Phew..

I finally pulled up to the retreat at 5:05 PM, over 4 hours after I was supposed to.  I was exhausted and drained from the morning travels but when I got out of the shuttle, I was met with a big and welcoming smile.  I had made it and was ready to start my retreat.  

The night before...

In 9 hours, I will be on a plane on my way to Utah.  The time has come.  

As I mentioned in my previous post, I am full of nerves and anxiety.  I had such a hard time packing last night.  What do I bring with me?  How can I pack when I don't know what I am going to be doing?  They're going to be taking pictures, what do I bring?  How do I want to be photographed?  How many outfits do I take?  How about what to wear to sleep?  Will I have a roommate?  Is it going to be too hot?  All of these questions kept me up and made it semi impossible to pack but I made it happen!!  

While the nerves and anxiety are a high level, I am also filled with some excitement.  So many people have reached out to me with words of encouragement and support and the positive energy has helped me get excited for this new chapter.   I was emailing a friend and talking with my sister and realized my biggest fear in going away: what if nothing changes?  What if I have talked about this big retreat and shared how wonderful it was for so many people and yet I go and don't discover anything about myself or don't connect with anyone?  How can I come back and face everyone?  I would feel like such a failure.  However, both my sister and my friend pointed out that there is no way I could come back unchanged.  I am going to be in a completely new environment and have new experiences that are bound to change me.  

The key is to not go in with any expectations.  I can't expect to come out a new woman or have a major epiphany because if nothing major happens, it feels like a disappointment.  My goal is to go in open: open to the experience, open to meeting new people and open to connecting with myself.  I want to embrace the discomfort because I am hoping it leads me to embracing life in a new and joyful way.  

Wish me luck!! Thank you for reading and take care!! 

Haven Retreat

"The Younique Foundation hosts female survivors of childhood sexual abuse at The Haven Retreat. From Monday to Thursday, these women gather in the beautiful mountains of Utah to learn, reflect, and rejuvenate." Next week, I will be embarking on a new adventure by attending the Haven Retreat. I leave first thing Monday morning and I will not be returning until Thursday night. I made the decision to go to the retreat after my aunt raved about it. She had told my sister and I about this place over a year ago and it seemed to good to be true. After all, the only expense to attend is the round trip ticket to and from Utah; everything else is paid for. I read up on it and I couldn't believe that there was a foundation out there dedicated to the healing of such a traumatic event as childhood sexual abuse.

My aunt went to the place in March and she was a changed woman. One of the most telling signs of the healing she had done was that she openly acknowledged her own painful past. It was something that had been buried deep within her for almost 50 years but she was able to acknowledge, publicly, what had happened. I had always known about her past because when I was in the hospital after I had been raped, she came and told me about it. Even though I was only 7, I remember how honored I felt that she confided in me. It also made me not feel as alone. Someone else had gone through what I had gone through and has survived. She and I don't discuss the abuse but it has always been a bond that we shared. After she came back and confirmed that the retreat was everything it was cracked up to be, I made the decision to come. On March 19th, I booked my stay.

Over the last few months, I have told people about where I am going. Shared pictures from the site and shared how wonderful my aunt thought it was. I've had passing thoughts about the fact that I would be in Utah for a few days and will have little to no contact with anyone because there is no cell phone service and I will only have access to Wi-Fi once per day. I've thought about how much I would miss Elio and Brenda. I know that not having the distraction of my phone and the internet will be helpful but its also a little scary. The fact that it was months away was helpful because I could delay thinking about it. That's no longer the case. In less than 1 week, I will be in Utah. As a matter of fact, at this time next week, I will be wrapping up my stay.  WOW! What did I get myself into?

As we draw nearer to my departure date, my nerves and anxiety increase. As I type this, my heart is starting to beat faster. I have no clue what to expect. My aunt's stay and my stay will differ because we're different people. Reading about the place and the survivor stories can't really prepare me. I won't know until I get there. The only thing I can do is think about what I hope to get from the experience. I possess so many characteristics that are similar amongst sexual abuse survivors, how much of who I am was shaped by that awful day 31 years ago? Will being amongst so many people with similar horror stories help me to continue to heal? I sincerely hope so.  I started this path of blogging and self discovery almost 10 years ago. While I've stumbled a long the way and have had set backs, I keep searching for a deeper meaning and understanding of myself.  Hopefully, this retreat will assist on this journey.

As always, thanks for reading and take care.

Who am I?

As I continue on this journey of self discovery, I realized the need to start therapy again.  My therapist and I were discussing the rape and she had asked me if I could remember who I was before the event.  Truthfully, not really.  I was 7 years old when it happened to me, so I remember individual things but not really a sense of "who I was." As we were talking about it, it made me think about who I am and I informed her that the only time I can detect a significant change in my personality came between high school and college.  I clearly remember who I was before I went to college and then who I was once I had graduated.  When she asked me what caused the change in me, the first thing to come to mind was the 1 significant relationship I had in college.   I was never the same after that. 

In high school, I was a confident teen.  You couldn't tell me nothing about myself.  As a kid, I had read one of my report cards and a teacher had commented that I could do whatever I put my mind to and I believed her.  I really felt like the world was mine.

I had my insecurities, I mean...we all do.   My biggest insecurity was surrounded around my looks.  There are reasons for that but that's a topic for another blog.  Apart from the looks, I was happy with who I was.  I was confident in my voice, even writing a letter to the editor of the town paper when I was disgusted with some behavior from the school.  I saw a bright future ahead for me and couldn't wait to get out there.

Providence College was my choice, when it came time to choose.  During orientation that summer, I met two members of my class and was bold enough to go and ask them why weren't they dancing.  They thought I was an upper classmen because of my demeanor when I approached them.  On the first day of moving in, we ran each other again and struck up a friendship.  It was nice to be able to connect with people so soon and have a level of comfort.  One of these people would soon become my boyfriend.  Yes, I was one of those girls who started dating someone immediately as soon as she got on campus.  

We got a long well and soon were spending all of our time together. More accurately, I was spending most of my time in his room with him and annoying his roommate.  I would go to my dorm to shower, change and then head back over there.  Almost instantly, I was head over heels.  Here was this smart guy who was very sweet and really into me.  I spent half of all school holidays with him and his family, even going on family vacations with them.  I thought...this is it.  This is who I am going to spend my life with.  I ignored our bickering or the way he sometimes made me feel. I thought this is where I am meant to be.  I was home.

Around the spring semester, I remember him telling me didn't want to do long distance dating over the summer and wanted to see what else was out there.  I was his first relationship and he didn't want to settle down with the first girl he dated.  That should have been a major flag for me but I just thought..ok... hes going to eventually come back to me.  I was wrong and while we were involved for a period of time, we were done.

Although I didn't realize it at the time, I fell into a mini depression. My grades suffered tremendously and I stopped caring about a lot of things, myself included.  Being his girlfriend had defined me for so long, I didn't know who I was without that label.  I was lost and confused.  What about this relationship had such an impact on me?   Why this boy?  I had had many boyfriends before and I was fine.

To answer that, it would help to understand that 2 days before I started my freshman year, the aunt I was living with also moved to RI.  So in 2 days, I went from having a stable home base to being completely on my own.  Her new home wasn't my home.  I didn't have an old home to go back to.  I was in essence, homeless.  Unlike many of my classmates, I had people I could visit on holidays but not a home.  No one family that claimed me as theirs or I claimed as mine.

In walks this person who gave me everything I was looking for.  He gave me his heart, a family, a home, a place to belong.  It was what I had been yearning for since I lost my mom and I thought I had found it in him.  So, when he made jokes about my weight, I ignored them.  After all, he loved me anyway, so how it could be bad?  He always stressed the importance of being a good student, so I strove to be the best I could be, to make him proud.  I avoided people and activities he didn't approve of to stay in his good graces.  I didn't make any friends on my own because I was content just being with him.  

When we broke up, my insecurities doubled because I had never been fully secured about my looks but remembering his jokes about my weight really made me feel bad.  Maybe this is why he didn't want me.  I stopped caring about class.  It was almost as if I were rebelling, doing things that I knew would upset him.  Maybe I was looking for attention, a way to get him to notice me.  I allowed him to play games with me because I wasn't ready to let him go.  I didn't want to lose my home again.  I just had to "tough" this time out and eventually, all would be good again.  Obviously, this was not the case.   I did lose my home and with it, any shred of confidence in who I was.

Hindsight is always 20/20 and looking back, I can see why things happened the way they did.  I get mad at myself for allowing it to happen.  I get mad at him for taking adventure of the love I had for him.  Even with my anger about it, I also make excuses for his behavior.  He was young and I was probably way too intense for him.   I still have love for the my ex-boyfriend.  He probably has no idea I feel this way, as I never really discussed it with him.  We are both happily married to our soul mates and remain friendly to this day.  Maybe one day we will meet over a cup of a coffee and discuss, maybe.

Regardless of why things transpired the way they did, the impact on me has been profound.  I haven't made it back to the confident young woman I was prior to Providence but I am finally clearing the path.  This was a lot for one day...so, until next time, thanks a lot for reading and take care.    

Letting Go

In my last post, I discussed my mom and her absence in my life.  I typically tend to write about her around Mother's Day.  I wonder why?  

Obviously, I know why this time of year always brings her to mind.  Strangely enough, its one of few times that I actively think about her.  As I go through my days, I rarely think of the woman who gave me life.  I've even said a time or two, that to have a mother is foreign for me.  I've been without one for so long.

Some might think that my not thinking of her means that I am "over" her and the abandonment.  As a matter of fact, I was one who thought that way.  I'm an adult.  She left when I was a child.  I persevered and grew up without her.  This must mean that I am no longer affected by her absence.  I didn't realize how wrong I was.

The fact is I don't think of her that often because it hurts to think of her.  It hurts to remember that I once had a mom who, I know without a doubt, loved her kids.  A mom who tried to give us all that she had, although it was barely anything.  A mom who even in the throes of her drug abuse, still managed to make me feel loved and safe.  A mom who I adored and loved with all that I had.  I was only 10 years old when I last saw her and in many ways, I am still that same little girl.

My memories of my mom have faded with time and I am sure I have re-imagined life with her as a way to cope with not having her.  Funny enough, I never say I lost my mom.  I just think of her as not being her now.  My husband has asked me if I want to look for her and my answer is a quick no.  That might be shocking to read.  Why would I not want to look for this woman, whom I obviously loved and have missed throughout all of the years?  Why wouldn't I want answers?

Honestly, I do want answers.  But to look for her now, would mean that I have to be ready for what I might find.  I may have to finally acknowledge that she is permanently gone from my life.  No more counting how long it's been since I've seen her.  She would just be gone.  Until now, I didn't think I was ready for that.

However, I think its time I face that fear and begin the process of letting go of her. It's time that I mourn her loss and accept that she may never come back.  We may never be united.  I may never know what happened to her.  That's a bitter pill to swallow because I want answers and frankly, I  deserve them.  As anyone who has experienced grief knows, sometimes we don't get answers we need and we have to make peace with it.

I don't know to begin to let her go.  Maybe it will start with this post. Maybe by talking about her with my family.  Maybe by remembering both the positive and negative sides of her and finally admitting to myself that she was flesh and blood, who like everyone, made many mistakes.  I hope that I can let go of the hurt and anger that I feel towards her.  Keep her alive in my heart and not trapped in my head as a confused memory.

As always, thank you for reading and take care!!

  

Mother's Day

"Saying goodbye is never an easy thing..But you never said, that you'd stay forever. So if you must go, oh, darling I set you free. But I know in time, that we'll be together. I won't try to stop you now from leaving, 'Cause in my heart I know

Love will lead you back. Someday I just know that love will lead you back to my arms where you belong. I'm sure, sure as stars are shining, one day you will find me again, it won't be long, one of these days our love will lead you back.

One of these nights, ooh, I'll hear your voice again. You're gonna say Ooh, how much you missed me. You'll walk out this door But someday you'll walk back in and darling I know, ooh I know this will be Sometimes it takes some time you on your own now to find your way back home"

These lyrics are from Taylor Dayne's Love Will Lead You Back. This is the song I was singing the first night I was in foster care and my mom had to leave my sister and I. I remember singing this to her in my mind, as we cried ourselves to sleep. Hearing this song, 28 years later, is just as painful. I really thought my mom would be back. Her love for us was so strong and big, there would be no way she would just leave us.

The first couple of months, she would come by. She knew that the sperm donor's mother hated her but she would endure her looks just so we could have a visit in the hallway. I loved seeing my mom. She really was the light of my life. I longed for the day we would leave that apartment and be reunited with her. I thought it was only a matter of time before that day would come. On the last day she came to see us, as she was leaving, she said, "I'll see you tomorrow." I'm still waiting for tomorrow.

It has been 28 years since that day and I can honestly say that I don't think of my mom that often but in May, she is always on my mind. The last time I saw her was in May. Her birthday is in May. Mother's Day is in May. This year, her birthday and Mother's Day, is the same day. Double whammy!!

In past years, I post about how inspired I am on Mother's Day and revel in seeing all the wonderful posts celebrating all the amazing moms out there. I have been blessed to have some wonderful women step in and mother and nurture me throughout these years. For that I am grateful but none of them were Neida. She's the one who gave birth to me and the one who should have been there and she wasn't.

Whenever I am asked about her, I always praise her strength and talk about the love I felt for and from her. Somehow it feels disloyal to talk about my anger towards her. I don't want anyone to think ill of her and want to keep all of my wonderful memories of her intact. What would it say if I talked about how her absence affected me? Will it take away from all those who have loved me?

The truth is that while I don't think of her daily, her absence affects me daily. I feel like I am somehow unwhole. As if I am missing a piece of myself. I don't feel like a complete woman and if I am being completely real, it's the reason why if I am blessed to have kids, I don't want a girl. How can I help a little girl become a woman, if I don't know myself. Maybe its why I haven't tried hard to have kids. What kind of mother would I be?

I don't know if she is alive. Until about 9 years ago, I never thought she could be dead. In my mind, I was just marking the time until I saw her again. The first therapist who helped me, asked me if I thought my mom could be dead and I was floored. I had never even contemplated that. Truthfully, she may very well be deceased, after all, she was heavily involved in drugs at the time and unless she got clean, there's no longevity in that lifestyle. I hope that's not the case but I now see that it's a possibility.

Do I want to see her? Yes! What would I say to her? I have no clue. I would hope that she would be proud of me and the woman I have become. I hope that she would look past my weight and see me as an accomplished woman whom she gave a strong foundation to but who also had to overcome a lot of adversity because of the abandonment.

Mother's Day will always be a day to celebrate and acknowledge the wonderful women in my life. My sister, my aunt, mentors, teachers and friends have all had a hand in nurturing me and my growth. I celebrate them today and everyday. My mom, was also, one of those women. Unfortunately, her involvement was just shorter than the rest.

As always, thank you for reading and take care. 

Where to Start?

I have been trying to write a blog for the last couple of days and I am stuck.  Every time I start writing about something, after the first paragraph, I am stuck.  I have my music on to drown out any noise around me and I still cannot get anything.  I thought it would be easier to blog without having a specific topic, like weight loss, to focus on but it is actually harder.  There are so many things that I can write about.  So many opinions on so many subjects but which do I start with?

One of the reasons I think I am stuck is that I want my blog to have purpose.  I don't want to just ramble on.  I'd like you, as the reader, to feel like you've gained something from the blog.  Maybe you laughed a little or cried a little.  Or maybe its made you look at a subject differently, from a different angle.  That's tougher task than just picking a random topic to write about.  It has to be something that speaks to me and evokes strong feelings.  There are SOOO many things that fit this category but for some reason, they are not working with me.

Maybe I am trying to force it.  My mind is intent on not working with me and I have no choice but to listen to it.  I'd rather write this short blog to try and figure out why I can't seem to write about anything than to ramble about something useless.  It occurs to me that in a way, I am rambling as I try to gather my thoughts.  Has this ever happened to you?  What are some things that you have done to overcome it?

Now that I have blogged about having nothing and everything to blog about, maybe my mind will focus a little more.  

Until then, thank you for reading and take care.    

Goals

Hello everyone!!

So it has been almost a year since my last post.  Many people ask me why I haven't been writing.  As is often the case, there are many reasons why I haven't been blogging.  First of all, I started this blog as I started one of my multiple journeys to lose weight.  When I begin the journey, I get excited, and I start writing.  As I lose steam on my journey, the shame sets in and I want to hide.  Since I can't hide in real life, I hide in my writing.

Another reason I haven't been writing is that life has been speeding past.  My husband and I bought a house.  We moved from the Bronx to Stratford and it has been hectic settling in. It's fabulous to be in our own space but as anyone who owns a home knows, there's always something to do, fix, buy....etc.
Finally, I realized that I am not the best at sticking to commitments.  Shocking I know!!  The funny thing is that I am really good at keeping commitments I make to other people, I just don't keep them to myself.

As I settle into life in my new home, I have a little more time to dedicate to making improvements in my life.  I started going to therapy again and will be going to a retreat in October (more to come at a later post.) I am going to be blogging more frequently but at my aunt's suggestion, I will change the focus of the blog.  I am still on a journey to find myself but I will no longer just focus on the weight.  

Thank you for reading and take care.