Cate LaBarre

I found a beautiful box turtle just down our road two days ago.  I had been wanting a turtle all season for our garden pond and there it was crossing the road!  I took Turtle home to meet the frogs who have adopted us and visit with our cats in our fenced-in outdoor sanctuary. I soon realized that Turtle wasn’t happy in the confines of its imposed home. She had explored all there was of pond and began exploring fence to find a way out to freedom. Slow and steady, all around the edge. Yesterday as the sun warmed frogs and cats, she slept not in a spot of warm October sunshine, but hid under the morning glories planted along the fence.

Yesterday I got news that the treatment I am receiving for a chronic viral infection of 38 years is working, but not quite “fast enough”, not quite “good enough”. My viral load, which had been 5.5 million per 1 ml of blood plasma just eight weeks prior was reduced to 70 by triple drug therapy, impeccable self-care, visualization and the prayers of family and friends. Though this is great news, in order for treatment to end at 28 weeks, “numbers” needed to be under 40 at that eight-week milestone. Treatment has been extended to 36 weeks. It is a metaphor for my life, feeding my story is that I am never quite “good enough” that I can never do things “fast enough”.

Like the turtle, it seems to take me longer to accomplish tasks and goals. Though as I reflect I am sure from turtle’s view of the world “life” happens good enough and fast enough. Perspective is everything. So what if it takes me longer to climb a mountain, swim across a pond, learn a new skill, read a book, write a blog entry, get the punchline of a joke, cosmic or otherwise? So what if it takes me longer to clear an infection? So what if I am destined to have this longer experience, whether it leads to a cure or not? This is my unique journey and my life in itself is a miracle.  In the story of the tortoise and the hare, tortoise wins the race by slow, steady, undaunted persistence. It is not hare, tortoise was never meant to be hare. It accepts the perfection of its being tortoise.

I do climb to the top of mountains, swim, learn, grow, write and “get jokes” eventually. I am undaunted when I choose to be.

When dawn breaks in an hour, I will take Turtle back to her large wooded wetland. I will walk Turtle across the bridge to the other side of the pond and stream of the beautiful Girl Scout Camp she likely wandered from to cross my path and deliver her message. I hope that she does not find the road again unless it is her destiny. I will free Turtle from the confines I created for my cats who don’t do well in the wild and return her to her wild home where she will live her life as she was born to do. As I set her safely down in the woods near the stream, I will metaphorically release myself from the confines of my limited beliefs and expectations of what is possible for me in my healing and in my quest to deliver my unique gifts to the world. Turtle has delivered her powerful message. Thank you Turtle.

Just hours before I saved Turtle from the road I heard the news that the world lost its greatest innovator and inventor. Undaunted by his own illness, Steve Jobs kept on delivering his unique gifts to the world right to the end of his days on Mother Earth.

Yesterday on receiving the news that longer treatment is advised, I asked myself, “W.W.S.J.D.? What Would Steve Jobs Do?” I heard the answer in this quote from Steve Jobs mentioned in the news and posted all over Facebook moments after his passing: “Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know of avoiding the trap of thinking that you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.”

Thank you, Steve Jobs, for delivering your unique gifts and sharing this wise perspective.

I accept today that this is my destiny, my journey, my cosmic lesson and I embrace it joyfully with every cell of my being. I am undaunted like Turtle. Slow and steady. I hear and breathe in Steve Jobs message. I will continue to follow my heart. I will continue my journey knowing and trusting that all is as it should be.

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There’s a saying, “You don’t get a second chance to make a first impression.” I am amazed how many times this shows up for me. “Bad” first impressions cause me to respond differently depending on the situation. In the case of the missed diagnosis I received at a local health center (see July 3rd post, Listen Up People), I did NOT go back to the same health care provider, but saw someone else and then wrote a letter to the supervising powers that be. The provider was informed of their mistake and my insurance company and I received refunds for the visit.

In the most recent incident of a “bad” first impression (Ground Rules, Sept 12) I hoped to clean it up, clear the air and go for a second chance, a “replacement” impression. Rather than wait for my next appointment, still weeks away, I decided to call the health care provider to see if she was willing to have a conversation about our communication snafu and “bad” first impression. Little did I know HOW BAD it was! Before we even met we had a rocky start with scheduling problems that her staff mishandled. She assumed that I blamed her because I complained heartily to the staff and made a clear demand for remedy. I can be such a bitch, that’s a good thing sometimes, it gets action!

Here is what we discovered in our conversation that I never would have realized had we not talked. When I met this newest member of my health care team (a woman with years of experience in this specialty) I began by acknowledging her for “making our appointment work” and she was completely offended and insulted! Oh my, what had I done? My husband tells me “you’re not like most people, Cate, she didn’t get it, she thought you were being sarcastic.” Wow, I was shocked and dismayed to realize that I had begun the downward spiral in communication with this vitally important member of my health care team and that I was oblivious to the fact and I had been blaming her! Well, truth be known, we are each responsible. Everything that I shared in my last post DID happen and it was unpleasant and unsettling.  Relationships are co-created. The important part was that I knew something was really OFF and there was no way I was going to let it slide and lose more energy fretting about it. I made an invitation to clear the air, she was willing, we have a fresh start, powerful co-creators of our relationship and partners in my health care! Very empowering.

Where do you need to walk away from a bad first impression? Where do you need to set a boundary or take action? Where do you need to consider giving that bad first impression a rest and giving yourself and the other person a second chance by clearing the air?

It is so interesting to me that I believe I’m pretty good at communicating and then I find myself “slap dab in the middle” of a communication breakdown that blows me right out of the water. My internal dialogue starts, “What just happened? Was I alone in the room? I thought we were on the same page, we weren’t even in the same book!” And on and on it goes, with me beating myself up, making the other person wrong, and wasting my time and precious energy because I THOUGHT I was good at communicating!

What are the ground rules for communication? What do you do when the other person doesn’t have the same rule book? I was reminded AGAIN at a recent check up with my “health care” team member.

Here is what I see as the “issue”. She is anxious. I am anxious. She is scattered, me too. I don’t know what her agenda is, I can only guess it’s to get me out of the room in 12 minutes without too much whining and complaining. MY agenda is to be not just heard, but listened to, acknowledged, and satisfied with information. Was I clear about that? Heck NO!

This is what I’ll do next month.

• Have my list ready and well written
• Ask her how much time she has designated for our appointment
• Have her do my vitals and discuss lab work first
• Ask her to let me know when she is complete
• Share my agenda with her, what I expect from our visit
• Ask her to not interrupt me until I complete my thought or question and then reflect what she thinks she heard me ask or say before she speaks
• Not leave until I am satisfied and have all my questions have been answered and requests fulfilled

That feels pretty good. What do you think? What do you do when you are not satisfied with communication with health care providers? I would love your feedback and suggestions — please post your comment on my blog!

I had an interesting conversation with a woman earlier this year that continues to come back into my conscious awareness. Of course, I know that means I need to pay attention, that there is a nugget of gold in what I perceived as her fear of the reality of her life and I knew that must be about me as well.

This amazing woman, who keeps reinventing herself and supports others in their relationships and career goals, shared with me in whispers that she is a breast cancer survivor. She cannot stand those words “breast cancer survivor”.  For whatever reason she thinks that “label” diminishes her, makes her a victim rather than victorious and empowered. She opted to not receive the recommended post surgical therapy. Her choice is her choice and I look at myself and wonder what I make that mean about her and me!

Recently I was offered a viable, cure-promising “treatment” for a virus (hepatitis C, genotype 1A). I’ve had this virus for nearly 40 years. Left untreated it is a leading cause of liver cancer. Considering my secret, undisclosed, judgmental inner dialogue about my acquaintance who opted out of treatment (“How could you? Are you crazy? What if it comes back, how will you live with yourself for not going into treatment?“) I couldn’t believe my own response to the promise that I’ve been waiting for, a cure for hepatitis C. I didn’t want to do it. I was afraid I would have to tell everyone and that I would be judged. I had to face what I saw as the stigma, yet again, of having this infection.  It took we weeks to wrap my brain, emotions and spirit around treatment. Longer still to be open and honest with others about it.

This morning as I awakened I was reminded of something I recall that was written by Roberto Assagioli, who created Psycho-synthesis (which is the basis of the “shadow” work that I do with clients):

I have a body and I am not my body, I have feelings and I am not my feelings, I have a mind and I am not my mind, I AM a center of pure awareness, love and will.” I add to this today, for me and anyone who feels shame around being identified with their “disease”, I have an illness and I am not my illness.

What we identify with won’t let us be, yet owning and being with what is, the reality that I have this infection, sets me free. I am grounded in reality, I am a woman valiantly surviving and thriving in my 5th week of treatment, and I have NEVER been more aware of the gifts of love and life.

I can use my experience of illness and treatment to grow, support others and embrace this transient thing called LIFE and love every minute that I am graced with more.

Yesterday, I listened to a radio interview of a woman who has written a book about what she calls “the last acceptable bias, age”. The discussion gave me pause, because though I know that we are a youth obsessed culture in the US, I hadn’t fully appreciated all the nuances she spoke to.

For instance, those who insist we cut spending on Social Security, Medicare and Medicaid deny the aging population who have paid into these programs for all of their working lives and also those who find themselves infirm and impoverished (in the case of Medicaid). They are engaged in ageism. Are those who would do away with these benefits planning on not getting old? Never getting sick? I know only one solution for the aging problem and it’s an untimely, early death. Let’s face it, each day that we are blessed to open our eyes and take a breath, we are a day older. It is just a fact of life.

I will proudly tell you I am almost 60 (45 days but whose counting?) and I color my hair. I’ll explain that don’t like the washed out dirty blond/brown color with strands of gray, that it’s not flattering to my completion or eye color. Is this really true? Maybe. Or is it I don’t want to look my age? I think my husband would find me beautiful anyway, but I wouldn’t like it. No, no, no!  I prefer to believe coloring my hair makes me look younger. I want you to say, “Wow, Cate looks great for her age.” What’s that? What’s my age got to do with it? Can’t I just LOOK GREAT? I am vain and fight “looking my age”. And that is ageism. I am doing it to myself!

When I think of hiring coach or mentor, I want to partner with someone who has lived enough life to understand my life. My most recent coach is young enough to be my daughter, but like me she has lived “a lot of life”. She can relate to me, I can relate to her. Age doesn’t apply. Experience, wisdom, humility and a willingness to keep growing is what mattered to me when I asked her to be my coach.

Though I have many young colleagues, friends and clients who are doing great things in the world, when I think of women I most admire, I tend to think of women my age or older. Take Hillary Clinton, for instance. I admire her every time I think of her, hear her or see her speak. (Though I criticize her hair color and style, “What is she thinking?” I ask. There is my judgment again of how I believe her hair “ages” her beyond her 63 years. There’s my ageism hanging out all over this woman!) Why do I admire Hillary? She stuck by Bill through the worst events of his presidency and when it was all over she didn’t flee to Nantucket to grow roses for the rest of her life (as I claim I would have done in her place). It appeared to me that she felt no shame in standing by her man, even as she pursued her own political career, Senator from the great state of New York, serious contender for the democratic nomination for president, and Secretary of State. Yet she still has time for Bill. I heard him interviewed recently and he said that he and Hillary DO text when either are traveling abroad and that they make a point of spending every weekend together. That is admirable and adorable!

So if I want to be like her when I grow up it’s about time I grow up and do it. No, I’ll never have her education, I can never do anything like or near what she has done, but I still have time to cultivate the qualities I admire in her that I may not be fully expressing. Fortitude, resilience, transparency, strength, brilliance and (best of all) she doesn’t give a good damn what ANYONE thinks of her as long as she knows she is in integrity with her core values and living her passion. I like that. I want to be that. That is age-wisdom.

Back to ageism. What about women and men who don’t aspire to greatness well into their retirement years? What if Hillary had decided to grow roses on Nantucket and open a small law practice on the side? Would she be less deserving of my admiration? Who am I to judge what her gifts might be and how she should use them? Does the person who retires quietly and plays Canasta become instantly “old” and worth less? Or worse, the person who becomes infirm and can no longer care for themselves not worthy of my caring?  Is any human being on the planet worth less than another for any reason? Don’t we all deserve love and respect regardless of our age, accomplishments or status?

I plan to stay in this conversation of age, age-ism and age-wisdom and lovingly bust myself when I compare myself to others because of what I judge anyone else should or shouldn’t be doing with their young or old lives and notice if I’m caring how old they “look”. If we’ll admit it, we compares ourselves to others constantly. Maybe that’s how we make sense of our place in the world and in our community, but it seems to me that it doesn’t serve our highest good.

What would it be like to leave age out of it? Rather than bemoaning the passing of time, what if we celebrated and practiced deep gratitude for our aging? How would our lives be different?

Recently I became aware that there is some confusion about the difference between a coach and a consultant. Why does it matter? You could waste valuable time and money if you head into a contract not being totally clear about whom you’ve hired and the services they offer. Seven years ago, when I was engaged in my very first coaches’ training, I had a “practice client”, a clinical social worker, who thought we were just going to talk every week for an hour and that I would give her advice about making changes in her life. This couldn’t have been more “wrong”.  She didn’t realize that there would be “work” involved and that the changes would be self-generated, not determined by me. Shame on me for not fully explaining what she was getting into, but then I have the excuse that I was “new” at this myself!

Let’s look at the difference. Though there are some individuals who call themselves coach-consultants, there are also very clear distinctions between a coach and a consultant.

Let’s start with certification and licensing. The New York State Division of Professional Licensing has no regulations or licensing governing coaching or consulting. Theoretically, anyone can read a book or take a weekend workshop and call themselves a coach or consultant. If a coach or consultant tells you that they are “licensed” or “certified” this credential was likely issued by their training institute or college certification program giving them “permission” to use the processes, courses and/or programs of that institute or school. If they are licensed psychologist or attorney, as well as a coach or consultant, this should be clearly stated in their credentials.

There are many different kinds of professional consultants and their training may range from business marketing to setting up bookkeeping structures to legal counseling. The variations are endless. For instance, my husband is a “consultant” as a project manager specializing in water resources. There are many different kinds of coaching services available as well, ranging from personal coaching to relationship, health, career and business coaching and many specialties among the categories!  Many coaches and consultants work with clients over the phone or internet, others in person, some do both. It is your job as a wise consumer to ask the right questions to determine what is best for your needs.

Here are some specifics: A consultant works with a client to provide a definite solution to a problem or challenge. A coach will ask a client powerful questions so that the client can find the solution themselves.  In addition, sometimes a consultant will actually do the work for a client, while a coach challenges the client to create structures and action steps to do the work themselves.

Here’s a great example that I read recently that anyone can relate to, driving a car. A consultant will research and do comparisons of different cars and possibly recommend one based on what they know about you. The consultant may even drive the car for you or teach you how to drive it. A coach may educate you about why a car might be necessary for you to get where you want to go. A coach will help you figure out what’s preventing you from learning how to drive it and may partner with you by sitting in the passenger seat while you drive the car.

What should now be apparent is that a consultant is likely to give you advice, tell you how to do it and/or do it for you. A coach does not give advice, but will ask questions to elicit how you can make the greatest difference in your life and help you create a vision and plan to get there and support you along the way.

It is important for you to feel confident that your coach or consultant has the expertise that you need for your specific “problem”.  Asking about the individual’s training and experience, as well as their “niche” is a great way to know if they will be able to help you. All coaches and consultants should be willing to offer you a complimentary conversation to determine if you are a good match in services and personality. Many professionals have a list of testimonials and references from their former clients; just ask.  In terms of coaching, you, as the client, have to be “coachable”. What does “coachable” mean? It means that you must be self-generating and willing to do your own work with the support of your professional coach. If your preference for the problem at hand is to receive advice or have someone do the work for you, hire a professional consultant.

I am owning my pathetic self, that still sees hope in a ravaged, violent world. I am loving my pathetic self for my nostalgia of the “good times” of my past, as I listen to music of  the Summer of Love and Woodstock. Why? There was something magical and open and free about that time in US history. 42 years ago today, my boyfriend and I found ourselves in a huge open farm meadow with half a million other kids for three days of peace, love and music.  We had no hint that our parents were home horrified and worried sick to see the news of the festival on TV.  We were happily oblivious as we looked for friends we knew were there but never found, made new friends we would never see again, listened to music as the sun rose, content to be in the moment with no worries. It was so peaceful.

I am happy to have this memory because it lights me up and gives me hope.  It is possible for us to be a peaceful people. Even with the violent murders of Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr, and Sen. Bobby Kennedy, I believed we could be peaceful. Even with the violence of the civil rights movement, I still believed we could be peaceful. Didn’t Woodstock prove it?

My hope continued. Another sign that we could be a peaceful people.  The first moratorium to end the war in Vietnam occurred on my 18th birthday just two months after Woodstock. The second, larger, nationwide moratorium took place exactly a month after that, on November 15, 1969. I went to Washington, DC; I purchased a one-way shuttle flight from NYC, no idea how I would get back. (I hitchhiked!) I was going to make a difference marching with other “kids” in front of The White House. We were going to end the draft, end the war in Vietnam.  We were going to make a difference. It was peaceful.  Though these acts of demonstration would later become more violent (Kent State comes to mind, May, 1970, when unarmed students were shot by the National Guard as they peacefully protested the planned invasion of Cambodia, kids all), I still maintained hope that it would all make a difference.

What’s different now? What “difference” are we making now? Why is it that so few say so little about the war? Yes, I know it’s winding down, coming to its sad, pitiful end. The one thing we DID learn from Vietnam was to NOT institute a draft. My opinion? If there had been a draft of men and women (kids) over 18 for the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the wars would have ended long ago. “Kids” would be paying attention and saying NO with peaceful demonstrations on college campuses. Their parents would be saying NO.

I will keep my pathetic, hopeful self intact. I will pray and hope and trust that the wisdom, desperation, resignation or just-plain-economic-sense,  that is finally bringing our military home from the atrocities and stupidity of war, will keep us from getting involved again in any unjust military action. (Can you imagine what today’s young men and women could have done to rebuild this country if we had used our human resources differently? What they still could do, if we looked at “service” in the broader sense? But that’s another story…)

I will visit with my nostalgic self and enjoy my memories of when I dreamed about being a part of the Summer of Love in 1967 (living in NY and not ready to run away to San Francisco) and actually being at the Woodstock Festival in 1969 and part the peaceful demonstrations to end the war that followed in the Fall. I will keep that hope alive that blossomed so long ago, as pathetic as it may be.

Our military “kids” will have a lot of healing to do, the ones who are home already need us.

I will keep my pathetic, hopeful self intact and pray that this time we won’t forget the lessons we are learning today. I will continue to believe that we can be a peaceful people.

My good friend and coaching colleague, Rhonda, shared with me last night that I have inspired her to make sure she is at the top of her to do list.  She had a busy day that seemed to be conspiring against her commitment to make it to her Zumba class.  She knew she had the perfect excuse to NOT go, husband had a last minute work obligation, babysitter couldn’t make it, in-laws not available. She told me that she asked herself “what would Cate do?” I don’t know exactly where this thought process took her, but she kept her head and commitment to her self-care and worked everything out so that she could go. Everyone survived with little-to-no drama, and she was in a fabulous mood having taken good care of herself by sweating her butt off.

I was surprised that I had made that impression, but clearly shouldn’t be.  I’ve known Rhonda for over six years and she knows my “story”. How I struggled as a single mom caring for two aging parents and suddenly realized if I didn’t begin to take better care of my precious self, there would be no one to care for my family!  How did I do it?  Baby steps. I started with one thing that I could manage, a couple hours away from family obligations a week, followed by more, until I finally had a working schedule that put me at the top of my to-do list without drama and with NO excuses.

What I didn’t ask Rhonda, as she showered me with acknowledgment, was what qualities she saw in me that she was now expressing in her life so that she is able to take better care of herself. So I asked myself this question.  Lately I am inspired by my friend Jackie.  Despite a new job that requires she “dress up”, despite having to leave exercise class early to get to work on time, despite being tired at the end of the day when she shows up at dance class, she does it. It is wonderful to have her as an exercise buddy, because if I know Jackie’s going to be there, I show up!  No excuses.  It’s not that I ALWAYS go, it’s just that I won’t make excuses because I know she won’t buy it.

What are the qualities I see in Jackie that inspire me? Discipline, determination, commitment and humor.  All a great mix to sweat with the best of us and still arrive at work fresh and ready.

What I’ve discovered is that there is nothing like self-care to guarantee that I won’t be resentful about my “other” obligations — work, household chores, family. My day flows with ease knowing that my self-care is in place and running efficiently!

Who inspires you?  What kind of person, what are the qualities, of a person who “does” what inspires you? Are you willing to nurture those qualities in yourself?

WHACK, WHACK, WHACK (sound of wooden pointer hitting a desk) “Listen up people!” my history teacher yelled to an over crowded junior high class to get our attention. No this is not about my history class or that teacher, it’s about the importance of listening.

Case in point.  I got as sick as I have ever been this week. Gradually, over a number of days the previous week, I felt tired, weaker, achy. I thought that my age was really catching up with me despite my commitment to exercise, a healthy diet and a regular bedtime! Little did I know what was in store. High fevers, night sweats, extremely painful joints, all unexplained by anything. Did I get bitten by a tick and not know it? Did I have some strange virus not yet known to man? No one could feel THIS sick and still be walking. Somehow I felt somewhat better during the day as long as I planned in a nap.  Mid week I even went back to a rigorous travel day, thinking I had “broken the fever” because of the profuse sweating of the previous night.

I finally succumbed. I had no choice. I had to cancel my long awaited writers workshop at Wiawaka House, a women’s retreat on Lake George in the Adirondacks. I cried. I called my regular primary care provider to find she wasn’t available. Would I take an appointment with someone else? Did I have a choice? Anyone, please!

I have learned to be a good observer of the messages of my body (whether I want to ignore them or not is another question) and an excellent advocate. This grew from working for primary care physicians for five years, being the clinic coordinator of a sexually transmitted disease clinic, caring for my parents during their long illnesses, being a mom, and having my own health issues. I know how to report signs and symptoms.

Back to my story. I was shown into a room. Vitals taken. The health care provider who saw me seemed to be listening and caring. He took my history did a cursory exam. He took a throat swab for strep despite my having no soreness. He had me pee in a cup, made sense, could be raging kidney infection, though I think I’d have been dead already. We talked a few minutes about ticks and Lyme disease. Yes, I’m outdoors; yes, I’ve found ticks on me. No, I don’t have a bullet rash; yes, I do know rash only occurs in 75-80% of Lyme cases.

Did I mention fever went as high as 102.7?

He gave me lab slips for routine blood work and Lyme titer. With the holiday weekend the Lyme test would be back on Tuesday, only five more days of suffering. Being the advocate that I am, even in the state I was in, I asked for prophylactic treatment for Lyme, “just in case”.  My husband had received an antibiotic with NO symptoms, simply the panic of finding two newly attached vermin snuggled into his chest hair. “No”, he said casually, with a smile, “you don’t need it. It’s just a virus. You’ll have to wait it out. I did the titer just to rule out Lyme.” I argued, he held firm. Pat on the head. Go home little girl. The message was clear. I was being dismissed.

I called my regular provider the moment I could the next morning. I sobbed as I told her what happened.  She asked quick, concise questions (I could tell she was concerned and angry.) She got me in two hours later with another colleague, as she had no openings. This time I was treated with care. This time I had a thorough exam and evaluation to determine that this was no virus.  I was told that two illnesses are presenting with these symptoms in our community this year. Mycoplasma pneumonia and Lyme Disease. Fortunately both are treated with the same antibiotic, which was instantly faxed to the pharmacy where my dear husband was waiting to bring it home.

Lesson? Listen to your body. Don’t tough it out when it’s screaming HELP! to you. Don’t take NO for an answer. You know your body. No one else knows it as well as you do. If what you’re being told doesn’t ring true with your experience of yourself, either that person ISN’T LISTENING, is terribly ill-informed or has decided that your a drama queen (or king).

I was in no condition to argue further.  I had really trusted that I would be well-cared for. Most of the time I am.  Just in case, I have created a mantra for doctor’s visits: Listen to ME, listen to ME, listen to ME, I’m right here, listen to ME.

I remember – a little girl sitting on my hands on the walkway. The gravel dug into my palms, hurt bad and I cried. But I mustn’t, mustn’t suck my thumb, my mom admonished me.  My big brother and sister didn’t suck their thumbs. I was shamed for wanting to soothe myself, give myself the comfort I did not receive.

(My parents, of course, thought they were doing the right thing, and from their perspective they were saving on future orthodontic bills. I showed them, I needed braces anyway.)

It seems a very significant event, my three year old self sitting on my hands, causing myself deep pain. I began to hide my true self. I hid the joy I felt as a five year old leaping across the floor in Fanya DelBorgo’s modern dance class. My mom continued to drive me to class each week until I was old enough to drive myself. (If she knew how much I loved it, would she shame me and stop driving me?)

I hid my trips into the woods surrounding our house to visit the woodland creatures I imagined there but rarely saw. I would talk to them and make up elaborate stories in my head. I began to create little books. These I showed to my dad. He did have an appreciation for good literature. I began to hide my stories and then stopped writing them.

I hid my eating as an 8 year old, shamed for having to shop in the “chubbies” section of the local department store. I hid the shame of that extra weight by starving myself when I was 11 because I was terrified of being shamed for my weight as I entered a large Junior High School. I would be thin. No one would know that inside me lurked a chubby girl who just wanted comfort, who just wanted to be soothed, who just wanted to be loved and accepted.

I continued to feel unhealthy shame. Beating myself up, judging myself, for not being smart enough, strong enough, for being afraid to speak up. Beating myself up for feeling different, having needs and desires that didn’t look like the needs and desires of others.

Pretty soon I hid all of the richness of who I was. The dark, self-destructive behavior, and the light, my gifts and talents.

I’ve been getting to know myself and reclaim all of my parts that I’ve disowned over the years. I wouldn’t be where I am in my healing process if it weren’t for the ground breaking work of Debbie Ford. I attended my first Shadow Process at Omega Institute seven years ago, where I took a quantum leap in healing my shame. Blessedly, there’s been no turning back.

I continue to find more of the cobwebs that insidiously and secretly took over my psyche.  I feel a deep sense of excitement and relief. Most of all, I feel a wave of love, acceptance and compassion for that 3 year old and the girl and woman she grew into as she continued to hide away — and now, heal.