How #metoo changed my life.


“Though she be but little, she is fierce.” – Shakespeare 

The #metoo movement. #timesup. Women are speaking out. It’s a powerful time in history for us.

It is a powerful time for me.

I have my own #metoo story. I can hear the naysayers call me a victim. The men who sexually abuse women not give a f*ck. The father predators not take responsibility.

And the women who hide. Hide their sexuality. Their femininity. Their stories.

Their voices.

I am one of those women. Every day it is a practice for me to come out from the shadows.

My survival tendency is to be a wallflower. To carry a badge of shame as if I asked for it.

I was just a kid. I was just a teenage girl. I was just trying to find my way.

They slap a label on us and somehow if it happened once it’s going to happen again.

What a shitty statistic to put on a woman. But this isn’t just about my story. It’s about her story.

Every woman who is afraid. To walk down the street. Who hunches her back. Hides her body.

Feels afraid to be intimate. Sexy. Too much. Not enough.

It is my mission to free myself by telling my story over and over again.

To find new ways to empower myself. New stories. New neuropathways.

A life after trauma is like learning how to walk again as an adult. I feel like for so many years I’ve been crawling. Hiding. In the fetal position.

Don’t touch me. Don’t cat call me. Don’t look at me that way. 

These are thoughts #metoo women live with. And these are the thoughts I am learning to let go. To embrace a new way of being.

I have built healthy relationships. Forgiven myself. Forgiven the hims’. My father. My 2nd father. All the men I hated after them.

#metoo gives us a voice. To free ourselves from the pain we live with every day.

And to trust again. To trust ourselves. To let go of shame.

And to know there are good people in the world who want to love us in all our ways.

To love ourselves. To know we are enough.

Maya Angelou, a hero of mine shared her wise words of poetry,

The caged bird sings   
with a fearful trill   
of things unknown   
but longed for still   
and his tune is heard   
on the distant hill   
for the caged bird   
sings of freedom.
#metoo changed my life. I write for freedom. For her story to be sung. For all of our stories.

The Love You Give to Another.


“Could I love him

any more deeply?”,

I asked myself after we ended our evening call.

Perhaps it is not

the depths of my love that needs to be measured.

But the trust

to know

that it is there.

The thing about relationships

is we hope the other will get us,

fill us up

when we are empty,

calm our storms

when we can’t see the rainbow.

I’ve learned through trial and error

there is no soul

that can fill us up

but our own.

Use the love you give to another

and let it be the medicine

you give to yourself.

The first song you sing in the morning,

the first drop of coffee on your tongue,

the first light that hits your window,

yes, my love

give your love to another

but first

give it