can give birth to these unique gifts. I love you dearly.
Just as important, I also wrote this book to all the dear men in my life, first and foremost my husband and partner in life, Bernie. You have been the one constant mirror of love in my life. You have shown me what truly loving a woman is. Whether I was a hundred and fifty pounds or three hundred and twenty pounds you never once made me feel less of a woman. This taught me that my value was in who I was and not what I looked like. We struggled the first few years because we had to grow up together and it has not always been easy, but your love has never wavered or strayed. It took many years for us to mature into the love we have today. God had you in mind all along. You are the love of my life and thank you for supporting and believing in me. I love you dearly. You have been my greatest teacher.
For our two dear sons who were the inspiration for me to unravel and heal my childhood wounds. I see in both of you today the kind of men that I did not know existed when I was a young woman. Today, as men you value women. I could not be more proud of you both.
To my dear grandsons, you are all so tender, loving and uniquely special. This world is a confusing place for men; you are constantly being bombarded with messages to be strong and tough yet this is only part of who you can be. Do not let outside voices teach you to suppress your tender, compassionate and vulnerable sides, for these will serve you well. Society and the media continue to give you mixed messages about what it is to be a man and who women are. I can only imagine as young men today how hard this is to decipher. Remember you are, beloved sons of God and in that you are a reflection of honesty, honour, integrity and love. Don’t accept anything less in yourselves or in the women you love. As men, you will be the mirrors to the women you love. Be that new model for society to learn from. First and foremost remember your own value as men. Then, from that place, let not only your words but your actions reflect the value of women. I have great hope in you as men and know that in the future our world will be a safer, kinder place for men and women alike. You all have amazing unique gifts and talents to give to our planet. Foster them without compromise and in great integrity. You will be the change. You are our heroes. Do not let anyone or anything keep you from your dreams, and be that beacon of light that reflects divine light to both men and women. I love you dearly.
To my brothers with whom I shared this childhood story, each of you dealing with the past in your own way. There is a bond between us that exists without words. I know that each one of you has a heart of gold and I love you dearly.
To my maternal grandfather who, when I was a child, was the one and only man that felt safe to me. I did not know you well, but I intuitively understood that I did not have to fear you. This was a powerful symbol that I was blessed to have had, even though I knew you were distant emotionally.
Even though all the men in my life growing up were not great examples who mirrored the value of women, I know they loved in their own wounded way and if they had known any other way they would have taken it.
Last, to my dad. I realize that the life that was given to you was for a reason. It is mainly a mystery, yet I know that you were also my dad for a reason. I guess in many ways, God knew I would find the gold in this dark childhood of both of ours. Dad, you did not value me as a female but you loved me as your child the best you could. Because of my childhood, I learned to have great empathy and compassion for others. Because of this, I chose a career that gives me the honor of supporting others to find peace. Because of learning to be so guarded as a child, I learned how to protect myself and have great courage and determination in life. Because of you, I became curious to learn about people and was able to finally uncover the beauty in humanity that most others miss. Because of you, Dad, I learned to love nature and all its natural beauty and rawness. You taught me to watch the sunrise and sunset and bask in the light of the moon through a mystical and magical lens. All these gifts and many others I would not have uncovered if I had not learned to forgive you. Yes the best thing of all Dad, because of you I learned to forgive. The kind of forgiveness that does not come easily but the kind that sets us free. Dad you endured an unspeakable childhood that was never given a voice. I want my story to be a story of triumph over pain that gives a voice of healing to all men and women who endured childhood abuse of any kind. There is a way out of the pain, not around it, not burying it, or by denying it, but by going through it and coming out the other side: becoming whole again with all the broken pieces. We can change our stories. Dad, I changed our story.
Let my story be a witness to women and men to find value in who they are as human beings, reflections of God who are filled with possibilities outside their stories. We must remember that we all have a story; it is neither good nor bad, it just is. Once we can make peace with the stories of our past we are blank slates for new and exciting stories in the future, and most important, able to be truly in the present which is really all we have. This is my story.
Chapter 1
My Father's Illness: A Journey Back to Myself
If you are the kind of person (like me) who likes to dive right in to a book without reading the introduction, please go back and read it for the book will make more sense if you do.
To understand this journey, I had to go back over my life and revisit old and sometimes painful memories. This helped in the process of peeling back the many layers that had hardened my heart and covered my authentic self, that part of me that was hidden away and has taken a long time to understand, love and accept.
Many years ago, when I was twenty-eight, my father became ill with cancer. At that point I had been estranged from him for years, as he and my mother were divorced when I was seven. Although I did have contact with him after that, spending time with Dad and all the lavish gifts he gave me, came with a price. In time, especially after I was married, I became very distant and had very little to do with Dad until that day when we were told he had terminal cancer and did not have long to live.
My older sister, my three brothers and I knew that he had no one to help care for him. We were charged with the care of this father whom we had little to do with and were still afraid of. We all still had raw childhood memories of his abuse lingering in the backs of our minds. Out of survival, we had, for the most part, filed those memories away. Faced with his care, those memories were once again front and center in our minds. Looking back, that really was the beginning of a journey that for some reason, at such a young age, I was ready to explore.
I had married at eighteen and by the time I was twenty-three had two sons, yet still felt very lost and disconnected from the world. I loved my babies, and in some ways they filled a void, but I never felt whole or complete. I quickly found out marriage and children did not give me what it was that I still did not know was missing.
I married Bernie, with whom I am still very much in love today. At the time of our marriage we were two deeply wounded young people thinking that somehow we could make each other whole. I realize now that was impossible, but back then, when he did not live up to my impossible standard, I became angry and resentful of Bernie. Neither of us was ready for marriage, let alone the responsibility of children. I expected Bernie to be the kind of man I had read about in fairy tales. I fantasized he would ride in on a white horse and rescue me from this black void inside.
Unfortunately, while growing up I had no role models of healthy relationships between men and women. I only knew that Bernie was not the man in my childhood books, nor like the television husbands I watched that I longed for. Little did I know then, on some level he understood that I was projecting an impossible standard for him to live up to, so we pushed each other away for a few years. I got caught up in trying to be what I perceived as a good mother and did not focus much on Bernie at all.
Bernie drank quite a bit the first years of marriage for he, too, was dealing with pain from his youth. When we met, Bernie had lost his dad in a very tragic accident and the previous year he had witnessed a close friend being hit and killed by a car. He was dealing with his pain through