United Kingdom

 

IMG_0037Sometimes I feel as if my entire life is one long holiday! It’s pretty magical! Some stops are longer than others. My first visit to the UK was in 2012. I was able to spend a few weeks in London for the summer Olympics. I was entertaining VIP clients at the Track & Field events. I felt extremely blessed because we were able to see the prelims for the 100m, 200m & 4x400m relay. We also saw the finals for the 400m. [I was a sprinter in high school and college so these events were rather special]. We were 4 rows from the track, 4 rows. Top of the 200m. 4th row! It was kind of ridiculous! During the week, I was the local expert, taking the clients to top restaurants, walks around Picadilly Circus and shopping along Oxford Street.

My next trip to the UK was in 2014. I started off the year in the USA helping my mom through her divorce. Once the townhouse was settled, I headed back to Asia. I spent a few months on dive trips (Borneo), housesitting (Hong Kong), and vipassana retreats (Singapore). A friend in Belgium invited me on a 3-week roadtrip. My jump bag was already packed so I collected a few trip details (dates, countries, sleeping arrangements) and off I went. I flew into Paris and took a train to Brussels. I met my friend and we started our European Summer Road Trip!

We started by driving to Calais and took a ferry to Dover. (Very cool experience)! I met Gypsies on the boat!!! Supposedly, my Grandmother is Bohemian. My favourite “made-up” story is how our family used to walk turtles in the town square. If we have Gypsies in the family, it would explain a LOT about my current lifestyle!

The next few weeks were mostly spent meeting & greeting scrap yards. My friend was a recycled metals trader. Most of the clients were car mechanics. Very cool experience to see this part of the supply chain… picking up cars, draining fluids, stripping of certain metals, and then crushing into transportable bricks. I have a soft spot for grease monkeys so I was able to talk shop just like the best of them. It helps that I know my way around a car AND most of my career up to that point was with commodities traders. Our corporate tagline was ‘Raw Goods for Real People’ so I guess I’m kind of one of the guys! hahaha.

On the social side, we were able to dip our toes in the water in Brighton Beach (it was FREEZING) and have dinner with a professional musician! We learned history as we tiptoed through gardens at Herstmonceux Castle!! We spent a few moments in a wind storm where we caught the tail end of England’s elite flying decorated planes (very random and very cool). We galavanted through fields whilst petting stinky pigs and enjoying ice cream from Snugburys. We even had a curry in Leicester! Some of the smaller towns were absolutely delightful – cobblestone streets, random markets, and the sweetest accents I’ve ever heard! My favourite hotel was in Cheshire. One of the scrap yard clients gave us an upgrade, the room was huge. Unfortunately, it was a honeymoon suite and that violated our agreement for separate beds. A promise was not honored so I grabbed the next train out of town to meet a friend in Liverpool. A warm meal, funny chat, followed by helping my friend pick out linens and then I was on a train to London! Train hopping is quite fun…and very scenic! London was cold and rainy but the company was absolutely heartwarming!!! I was able to catch up with my first friends from Singapore. They moved to London to do the whole family thing. I opted to spend a few more days galavanting around London. I met up with an old teacher from my days in Hong Kong. Most of my friends are male so it was a nice change to have some girl time. We did the touristy things of eating at cafes and sitting in parks all bundled up. I had a few solo nights before grabbing a bus from London back to Paris. I made friends at the bus station. I swear I saw the same group of Gypsies on the boat ride back! Such sweet people and such a tremendous energy force.

So many things packed in the month. Such a good trip for the soul!

 

Calais, France
Preston Park, Brighton
Herstmonceux Castle
Snugbury Ice Cream
Liverpool
The Beach
King’s Cross Station
Bird watching
London
St Paul’s Cathedral
Cavendish Square Gardens
Westfield

 

#London #England #UnitedKingdom #UK #Brighton #Leicester #Liverpool #Nantwich #Cheshire #SumerOlympics #GlobalNomad #Travel #BucketList

Switzerland

My first time in Europe was in 2008! I was moving from New York to Singapore via a few weeks in Switzerland. Our office was based in Lausanne. My flight landed in Geneva and I took the train to Lausanne. This was early days of travel so I was kind of a bulky traveler. I had 3 bags (none having wheels) and no sign of baggage carts. No elevator, just stairs. I had to make two trips from the train platform to the main road. It was Sunday. The entire city was shut down; everyone understood the importance of family and living a balanced life. I had the name to my hotel but I did not arrange transport from the train station. I couldn’t see a taxi stand. At this point, I was trying to take inventory of what was in my bags; keep and carry (?!) or donate and be fancy and free (?!) I opted to keep my stuff. I must have been entertaining because two gentlemen were watching me figure out the best way to get my bags to the ground level. During all the commotion, my wallet slipped out of my pocket (including my passport). The gentlemen were watching me. I panicked – racing down the steps to retrace my steps. Did I leave my wallet on the train? Did someone grab it out of my pocket? What time is it in Chicago? Who can I call to wire me some money? What is the hotel I’m meant to stay at? What’s the office address? I’m pretty sure the gentlemen felt my heart sink. One of them tapped me on the shoulder. With a big smile and a hug, he welcomed me to Switzerland and handed me my wallet. Without hesitation, I opened my wallet and offered him all my money. US dollars weren’t exactly appealing as he declined and just reminded me to be careful. I was lucky to have met such honest people. Not all of Europe is as safe as Switzerland. I bought him coffee as a thank you and away I went.

To me, Lausanne was filled with breathtaking lakes, an abundance of espresso cups, kind-hearted people AND endless amounts of time to soak up Mother Nature. I wish I remembered the name of the bakery, but they had the BEST bread! Just around the corner from the office… AMAZING! Oh and COBBLESTONE STREETS!

To me, Zurich was filled with laughter, skilled workers (I was staying with a pastry chef and his best friend owned a hair salon) and the most adorable buildings. The pastry chef was my first pen pal… one of the softest souls I’ve ever met.

To me, Bern was filled with funny stories (child eater), games in the town square with oversized game pieces, a live bear, the first clock tower (?) in Switzerland. The world is not that big because I was able to catch up with a dear friend, we met in Hong Kong and reconnected in his hometown, Bern.

Ah, the Swiss are phenomenal! They are kind-hearted, focused on a balanced life, high integrity whilst knowing when to laugh at themselves (seemed like everyone was joking around). The food was simple, delicious and heavy! I had my first fondu in Lausanne…

 

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#GlobalNomad #Travel #Switzerland #Bern #Lausanne #Geneva #Zurich #Trains #ClockTowers

Narcissistic Abuse is death by 1,000 papercuts

As expected, there is a wave of abuse that is brewing. The abuse is not directed towards me because abusers have accepted that I have grown. I am strong enough to set [healthy] boundaries and hold people [publicly] accountable for abusive behaviour. My growth is the subtle shift from testing my threshold of suffering in silence to implementing healthy boundaries. One of the ways to implement healthy boundaries is by breaking the silence. I broke the silence on family abuse. I broke the silence on mental abuse. I broke the silence on emotional abuse. I broke the silence on mental illness. I mostly maintained focus on mental wellness… (me, not them).

I have not really given examples of mental or emotional warfare. I typically like to clump all toxic behaviour together and maintain focus on the healing aspect. Emotional abuse is based on multiple ‘hits’; sharing individual stories just makes me look petty. The general theme is for an abuser to behave in such a way that the target is constantly in an emotional state.

I have maintained focus on how the abuse has affected me. I typically share what I learned from being abused as opposed to the abuse itself. I am constantly developing new tools to manage different parts of abuse. I’m currently developing writing. I’m trying to align my heart and my fingers. Look inward to get all the pain out. I’m hurting and writing is helping me heal.

I have maintained a ridiculous amount of compassion and understanding for people, even those abusing me. I achieve this by writing letters of gratitude and manifesting love into my world. When my cup is full, I’m unaffected by other people. I realised that I am scared to face my pain and the only way to dissolve my pain is to go through it, not convert it. I need to have compassion for myself before others.

I have maintained viewing abusive behaviour as them failing at managing their pain. Remembering humanity first has been worthwhile whilst also remembering that it’s NOT my fault or my responsibility to help them. The people causing me harm understand the softness in my heart and will continue to leverage it. My strengths are under attack but this year is dedicated to putting me first. No one else matters. No one.

I have learned that accepting abuse is NOT a reasonable form of demonstrating love and compassion. No one is allowed to hurt me. Setting boundaries is for MY wellness. My distance from others should not be challenged as me not loving them enough. I am enough. It’s appropriate and necessary for me to first and foremost, love myself. And if loving myself means removing myself from abusive people, then so be it. Act right and then you are allowed back into my world.

* * *

Abuse is not necessarily constant. It gets intense then settles down. It makes you feel like a yo-yo. It’s death by a 1,000 papercuts. Individual acts seem insignificant but collectively, they cause serious damage. The only objective is to keep you unstable and operating from fear. If abusers think you are weak, they show a bit of kindness. Once you have strength, they are in attack mode. It’s a game of control. My family has just entered the conditioning part of the abuse cycle. They are getting ready for the attack mode. There are 2 events that have caused a change in their behaviour. Dad is engaged to his mistress. Michael is getting married in Hawaii.

Healthy people would think these are happy occasions. To anyone that has experienced domestic violence or family abuse, know a different reality. They will do everything in their power to maintain an image of normal and see how much control they have over others. It’s a game.

Since the abusive people simply cannot help themselves, rather than get upset, I will be using this space to give very specific examples of abuse. My intention is to test my own healing, encourage abusers to find new hunting ground, and teach others about family abuse, specifically gross dysfunction.

* * *

The blog posts related to family (domestic) abuse will be set up as follows:

Title: EXAMPLE OF (PROJECTING)

Example: An abuser was struggling to manage his pain. Rather than acknowledge his own pain, he decided to verbally attack me to make himself feel better. Referring to me as offspring, saying that I used to be successful (implies I’m currently a failure), dismissing any emotion I expressed, rewriting childhood memories. Basically anything as an attempt to get me to engage (negative attention is still attention). For him, causing harm to others is easier than dealing with his own pain. He’s hurting and projecting that hurt to me.

Boundary: I informed him that I am not responsible for his anger. Please only speak to me with loving words.

Consequence: If he wishes to continue to send me abusive emails, they will be redirected to a list of people outside of the family. This way other people can see first hand how he processes his pain.

Result: He feared being exposed. Once he realised he was at risk of being exposed, he backed down. Family abuse is no longer ‘fun’ when it’s in the public. The emails stopped.

The Challenge: If you give a consequence, you must be willing to execute on your word. Abuse can actually increase if your words are meaningless. Try your best to be firm and unwavering in taking a stand. It helps me to think of the alternative. The abuser has anger issues so I remind myself that if I don’t nip this behaviour in the butt now, it will escalate and my life will be in danger. I’m not being dramatic, he has threatened my life before, The day my childhood bedroom turned into a crime scene. I suffered in silence for over a decade. It’s not an easy journey. But ask yourself, WHAT IS THE ALTERNATIVE? (For me, the alternative is pulling the trigger of a loaded gun).

#SchoolIsInSession #WhyIWrite #ToLetGo #Forgiveness #MentalWellness #ExposeTheAbuse #BreakTheSilence #NoOneIsSafe #DomesticAbuse #FamilyAbuse #Narcissism #NarcissisticAbuse #LessonsLearned #Accountability #Family

 

To Serbia, with love

Dear Friend,

I’m not sure who you are but thank you for checking out my webpage. I feel blessed that you have made it a daily habit. I very much enjoy consistency! I am VERY curious as I’ve never met anyone, nor have I traveled to Serbia.

So thank you. Thank you for allowing my words reach parts of the world that I am only dreaming about. Thank you for popping up in my analytics and putting a smile on my face. Thank you for making me feel as if I’m easing your pain? or maybe just offering something entertaining? Either way, whatever the motives, I feel blessed to have your attention.

So until the Universe allows our paths to cross in the physical world, I’m super glad we found one another on the interwebs. Thank you! I’m blasting you lots of love. I hope that whatever is happening in your life, your heart is filled with love and your mind is as present as possible.

Thank you for your time. I’m humbled and tickled. Thank you!

with love,
Jess

#WhyIWrite #MentalWellness #JourneyToPeace #Gratitude #AllCornersOfTheWorld #BucketList #GlobalNomad #NewFriends #Serbia #USA #Connection

Being Secretive vs Private

Have you ever noticed when you identify someone as being a victim of abuse, they are very private? Why are they private? Is it because they are scared? Is it because they are hiding something? Or is it because they are protecting those they love?

For me, it’s about protecting those I love.

I have a phenomenal life. I won’t lie. My life is pretty fantastic but that’s because I have the ability to find the silver lining in just about any situation. I remember humanity 95% of the time and I always do things with love. Even when upset, my heart takes over and things are done from heart center. Fact.

The last few months, the story I wanted to share has been the blessing of reconnecting with family. I’ve been hesitant to share the story because I feared my abuser would take away my happiness. I couldn’t allow that. I acknowledge I’m powerless. I needed to hold on and protect my happiness. I didn’t want them to be confronted by the same monster who torments me. So I waited. I waited until the monster found a new source. A new place to direct his energy. A new person to torment. (For him, it’s easier to torment others than accept [and fix] his faults). So I kept my writing and any public sharing away from my well-wishers. Away from my source of love. Away from the people who believe in me and remind me of my value added to the world. Away from people I’m blessed to call Family.

Background: In 2011, I treated dad to a trip to see his Aunties. I knew he was upset about Grandpa Corvo passing a few years earlier. So this trip was an attempt to get a big ol dose of love. Stuff happened, words said, doors slammed and flights rebooked. Needless to say, I was caught in the crossfire of something that was not my fault. I took the blame for it for years but it wasn’t my fault. I knew this. My heart knew this. Years pass. My heart knew they didn’t hold any grudges. I just felt that reaching out to them was betraying dad. They were his Aunties before my Great Aunties. If that brought Dad peace, then I shouldn’t’ get involved.

I changed my mind. I made the call. The phone call. To apologise. To test the water.

I went on an apology tour. I made an effort to spend a few days with each Auntie. Part of me was thinking I was going to be scolded for not minding my father. Part of me hoped that I would feel Grandpa’s presence in them (the Aunties are Grandpa’s sisters). I was terrified but hopeful. I was overwhelmed and searching for peace. I was present but making up for lost time. I didn’t know if they ‘knew me’ based on dad’s opinion or Grandpa’s opinion. Do I talk about the abuse? Do they know? Can I ignore dad’s existence? Maybe I’ll just talk about travels and Ironman. No need to discuss dad. What if they ask and I start crying? Can I handle this topic? Ahhhh! I was a hot mess!

IMG_4694

The first visit was with Auntie Lorie / Uncle Denny. I think they saw the fear in my eyes when I was sharing a few stories. The way they just grabbed me in an effort to hug the love back into my body was insane. Uncle Denny even turned the energy in the room from easy peasy to very protective. Protective of me and my broken heart. Protective of me. I haven’t felt that type of safety since December 14, 2009 (RIP Grandpa Corvo).

Then I saw Auntie Mick /Uncle Jim. Let’s just say that by the end of this visit, Uncle Jim is now Jim Daddy. I do not understand how Auntie Mick is so tiny because her heart is HUGE. My heart started beating harder.
IMG_4682I was starting to remember what it felt like to be loved.

The last stop in the tour was with Auntie Roe. Of all the aunties, I think I’m most similar to Auntie Roe. For real, when we were in the same room, my phone/watch STOPPED working. There was some ridiculous power between us where electronics were not operational. Auntie Roe is a hippy with an iron fist. Her door is always open as long as you mind her rules. Softest fierce person I’ve ever met (I mean Auntie Lorie and Auntie Mick are tough chicks too but Auntie Roe is a special force). She understood my rough bits and my intention to ‘fix myself’ before imploding. We had conversations without words. I remembered what it felt like to be understood.

IMG_4096Each visit made me a bit stronger. Each visit was holding up a mirror. To remind me of safety. To remind me of love. To remind me of being understood. How can I possibly share these gifts with the interwebs knowing that by hitting publish, they might be subjected to abusive phone calls? Heck, I’m not being dramatic, it has happened. When I got close to an Uncle, it was a matter of weeks before he was shouted at and told to never speak to me. Mom would also catch fire when/if I spent time with her and my abuser wasn’t notified. I’m also convinced that’s why my biological brother thinks I’m a drama queen, dad’s explosions are usually because I breathe. I didn’t want that to happen. I was tired of being isolated. So I thought best to keep quiet.

Now, I’ve found a new strength. I remembered that keeping my well-wishers in private was me re-victimizing myself. I was shackling myself with the chains of previous abuse. I had allowed the previous bullying to dictate my current actions. I hid behind the idea of protecting my well-wishers rather than trust that LOVE CONQUERS ALL. My faith in the abuse was stronger than my faith in humanity, more specifically faith in Family.

I was acting out of fear.

So here is a public declaration of my gratitude and appreciation for Aunties that gave me a dose of Grandpa (Gosh how I miss him). And endless appreciation for Uncles that put me under their wing. I found Family that loves me for me, bumpy bits and all.

The most treasured reconnection of them all is filling a void of a father figure. When one walks out, it was just God’s plan to make room for another (and I’m NOT religious, go figure). My favourite date of the week is Sunday night. Sunday night is when I’m reminded that it’s ok to give love AND receive love. I’m reminded that I am worthy of being loved… I can say it and I’m just now starting to believe it. Family heals everything.

#WhyIWrite #MentalWellness #GuardianAngelsPleaseProtectMyWellWishers #GrandpaIsWatching #LemonHeadIsWatching #AuntLindaIsWatching #MyGuardianAngelsAreMyWolfPack #Family #Love #NarcissisticAbuse #Recovery #SuperVulnerable #JourneyToPeace

Monetising a skill. Letters Of Gratitude.

One of the attributes that I get complimented on is my kindness. Another attribute is my ability to find the silver lining in just about any situation. I’m also talented at seeing people’s inner light…

I’ve been noticing a lot of entrepreneurs and people inviting me to join their MLM team. I feel very blessed that people think I’d be good with sales. I decline because of a misalignment with products, not people. I’m ultra-sensitive and pretty basic. Some would classify me as a purist. I’m not one to take supplements because I’m sensitive to processed products. I’m not one that admires 6-packs because I believe it’s unhealthy to have that low of a body fat percentage (especially for women). I cannot sell a product that I do not actually use.

I ask myself: What is MY product? (Letters Of Gratitude)

During my healing and unveiling #WhyIWrite #MentalWellness #JourneyToPeace I’ve been doing a lot of purging. It’s purging my mind, my heart and my soul. I’ve activated my kundalini and had an intense wave of what felt like lifetimes of emotions pour out of me. During this process, I’ve had to acknowledge a number of relationships for what they are, not what I thought they could be. This was a very difficult transition for me. To help, I wrote letters of gratitude to acknowledge the lesson and let go.

I ask myself: What do I enjoy? (Letters Of Gratitude)

I’ve noticed that during this writing journey and healing process, I’ve had an increased amount of people asking for help. I do not begrudge them for asking rather than offering because it’s actually a compliment that they value [and understand] my journey. My pain point is how to help. I redirect people to support groups. I promote life coaches that I believe are value added. I’ve been overlooking how to monetise my talents.

I ask myself: How can I add value? (Letters Of Gratitude)

SO bringing all these concepts together, I have finally figured it out. I am creating space to spend 15-20 minutes on the phone or learning about someone’s struggle. From there, I am able to gather enough information to write a Letter Of Gratitude for them. Most people struggle to let go of a situation that no longer serves them because they are more focused on being hurt than learning. Having a Letter Of Gratitude serves 2 purposes, help to identify the lesson AND have closure in a toxic situation.

If you need help to find the silver lining, let me know. My letters are US$35

Please email jessica.m.corvo@gmail.com today to experience how gratitude can literally change your attitude!

With love (and gratitude),
Jess

#WhyIWrite #MentalWellness #LettersOfGratitude #WednesdayGratitude #GratitudeWednesday #Gratitude #GratitudeChangesAttitude #JourneyToPeace

Why Ironman? (#WhyITri)

Things are constantly shifting but my ability to troubleshoot has remained consistent. My ability to find a solution to re-spark the magic is kind of ridiculous. My ability to soften explosive situations should warrant a PhD in AWESOME. So today, I’m opening another layer to share why I picked Ironman.

I grew up with a supportive family. I will not taint my upbringing with falsehood. The motives could potentially be questioned but the physical, emotional and mental presence of both my parents growing up was always there. It’s just as an adult that things started shifting. Dad was my first coach and favourite sparring partner. On a good day, I can empathize with the overwhelming amount of pain that he’s dealing with but I have zero respect for the tools that he chooses to use in order to deal with such pain.

In college, senior year, I was part of a team that qualified for Nationals. This is kind of a big deal. For someone that is hardly taking a moment to take in personal accomplishments, this is something that was pretty big. Nationals is the highest level of athleticism that one can achieve at the college level. The next step would have been going professional. So Nationals in college was huge.

Nationals landed on the same weekend as mom & dad’s 25th wedding anniversary. Mom wanted to re-vamp the love between husband and wife. I understood that. She wanted to shift focus from children (Michael/Me) to them (Dad/Mom). This was a chance to be newlyweds again. Remember all that was achieved in the 25 years of marriage. The good, the bad, the ugly. It was all part of the beautiful journey and what brought them to this exact moment. I didn’t know but I knew. It was something that was important to mom. I can count on one hand the number of times that she asked for anything let alone expressed interest in it so how could I possibly begrudge her happiness. Who am I to demand they attend my national meet when I knew it would cost a memory for them?

So I didn’t. I didn’t put up a fight or even question why. We had a family discussion on the matter. The agreed solution was that Michael would go to the meet. He would be there to share my moment and have a few friends to stand in for mom/dad. Mom/Dad would then be in Vegas, having their wedding vows renewed by Elvis and celebrating 25 years of being a team. Everyone was happy with the arrangement. Everyone.

Wrong.

What I thought was a family discussion and agreement ended up being the root cause of nearly 10 years of trouble between me/dad. Every fight, he would throw it in my face that he missed Nationals. I didn’t care. It wasn’t important to me that he wasn’t physically there. I never once mentioned it. But each time that dad got upset, he looked to me to reinforce that he was a good father. And by trying to get me to remind him that he was a good father, came disguised as a fight about Nationals. So to end this long-standing soft spot, I opted to create a new one.

So what type of sports challenge can I do? What do I actually have to spend time training for? What is something that is outside my comfort zone? Something that I didn’t necessarily know I was capable of accomplishing at that exact moment? Ironman. I was a seasoned runner. My life was 400m at a time. I lived and LOVED the quarter mile. To this day, I can feel the confidence build and love explode with each step around that magical oval most call a track. Running a 400m is my magic place. It’s my safe place. It’s the place where I can fall into the zone just as easily as taking a breath. I’m optimistic and realistic. So I know that I would never make it to a global stage in the 400m. BUT why not for the Ironman. I didn’t know how to swim. I didn’t own a bike. I knew about running. I knew about nutrition. I knew about priorities and setting goals. I knew this was an opportunity to learn something and rebuild with dad.

Crossing that finish line was my way of giving him Nationals. Ironman was an intentional journey to build a machine of physical excellence, test my machine of unconditional love, and expand my machine of mental tenacity.

Ironman was Nationals… 10 years later.

And once I make a decision, it’s as good as done. So I picked 3 races that were right around the time of nationals (May). I explained this to dad and asked him to pick a race. It was between a 70.3 in Florida and then full in either New York or Texas. Texas was the American Championships so it was fitting that was the race that dad picked.

Now that the race was picked. The training needed to commence. The goals were set and the journey began.

I stayed in Singapore and dad and I built consistency with a Friday night date night. I was usually making a big pot of sauce and dad was running errands or in the midst of some home improvement. Conversations were controlled and circled around training. We naturally steered clear of explosive topics (dating, traveling, having half the world between us…). Our Friday night date night was our way to be close. Dad was my coach and I was his athlete.

I think during that year of training, we only locked horns once. I called in a state of panic. I was in a fairly severe bike accident and could see my hip bone. I more than likely needed to go to the hospital but I decided to call dad and keep him on the phone whilst I patched myself up. He was not happy and I understood that he felt helpless. Answering the phone and remaining calm was the only thing I needed. And perhaps a kick in the pants of don’t cry over spilled milk. So under his guidance, I removed my cycling kit, cleaned the areas with warm water, then with mild soap, then with antibacterial… The nerves had been scraped off so it wasn’t painful. Or perhaps I was still running off adrenaline. Either way, dad was comforting. He insisted that I get tetanus shot the following day and I agreed if it meant that I didn’t catch fire for not going to the hospital. But this situation was literally the only time that we even so much as agreed to disagree during an entire year. Journey to Ironman was filled with trials for us to demonstrate understanding and love towards one another. This is what I missed. This is the dad that I know and love… and miss.

The other dad that I speak of IS dad’s body but not his mind or his soul. It’s him but not him. And doing Ironman was my way to help dad be in his comfort zone (as a father, a coach, and a guiding light). More importantly, doing Ironman was my way to have my father back. It was my way to remember the person, the humanity… and not the illness.

I love dad very much and part of why this journey to peace is so difficult is because it’s the struggle to remember the humanity. It’s the truth that when dad is abusive, it’s because he’s failing at managing his own pain. It’s not because of me. It’s because the pain is literally killing him. Dad doesn’t have the tools to express himself. It’s not my fault nor does it have anything to do with me. That’s the part that I struggle with. To remember that it’s not my fault. The abuse is not.my.fault. It’s dad’s decision. Not.my.fault.

It stinks that until he’s honest with what hurts? Or what is the root cause? I cannot do anything but let go. One of our last conversations was him screaming that I’m the cause of his anger. I’m the cause for all the trouble. I’m the cause for the pain. So I do my best to let go. I remove myself. I accept that I’m a tool that reinforces that he’s ‘normal’. I’m a tool that proves that he has brought good into the world. I’m a tool.

I’m a tool. I’m not a daughter. I’m a tool. I’m not a child. I’m a tool.

Ironman was my way of being a daughter, even if only for that year. I was the daughter and he was my father. Ironman was my way to give something back to dad, even if only briefly. I wanted to remind him that I am his daughter. Fathers should never abuse their daughters. Ever.

For an example of domestic violence, check out The day my childhood bedroom turned into a crime scene.

#WhyIwrite #MentalWellness #DomesticViolence #Healing #WhyITri #Ironman #SelfLove #JourneyToPeace

Reflecting on Tools: Writing vs Sports

When one is building a new skill, it’s necessary to minimise as many factors as possible. For instance, I have been leaning on sports for as long as I can remember as an emotional processing tool. Yes, I love sports. Yes, sports make me feel better. The underlining reasoning for doing sports was a constructive channel to focus energy. Productive in terms of building as opposed to developing addictions to a vice. An addiction nonetheless.

Today I had a fantastic moment of revelation. I was a bit down about my current fitness level. Then I started questioning why I was still prioritizing writing to sports training. Then it hit me. I realised I wanted to be authentic. I was trying to do the hard thing. I wanted to dig deep and adding sports into the mix prevented my deep dive. Sports is an easy way to manage emotions. Really upset, go for a run. Pissed off, grab my climbing kit. Feeling disconnected, meet some friends for beach volleyball. Feeling unbalanced, disappear in the woods or find a sandy beach. Watch the world turn whilst breaking a sweat. My life is active and filled with supportive people blissfully unaware of the magic they bring into my life.

Sports were my crutch for 20 years. It was my easy way of dealing with life. No shame but as all things, I needed to add new tools to my box. So I opted for writing. It’s an ambiguous craft. No rules, really. I can expand via blog, simplify via poetry or simply walk down memory lane via reading old journal entries… anything to get the feels out of my heart and onto a page. Doing sport prevented me from doing that, so I stopped. At least for a short while.

Last weekend, I was feeling a bit overwhelmed and disconnected. Being mindful I couldn’t have a rational conversation because I was in an emotional state, I opted for silence. I was attempting to gather my thoughts. I wasn’t trying to convert whatever was bothering me into something positive. I was just observing and allowing whatever needed to flow, flow.

It was beautiful. It was ugly. It was intense. It was real.

I didn’t hurt anyone because I didn’t project this wave to the outside world. I saved the words in my journal and then just bookmarked for later. After the wave, I opted to throw myself into something creative. I opted to change all the pictures on a wall. The pictures used to hold memories from childhood now hold smiles of connections as an adult. My wall of love. My wall reminds me of the good. Especially when my heart thinks I’m alone.

I never want to control these waves. I don’t think there is anything wrong with them. Honestly speaking, I think they are beautiful and each wave reinforces just how strong I really am. I have the ability to lash out and hurt others, I choose not to. I have the ability to project pain onto others, I choose not to. I have the ability to create a mountain out of a molehill, I choose not to.

I’ve been conditioned to keep my feelings to myself. Have you ever had someone high-jack your moment? You finally gather up the courage to express yourself and they start yelling at you? You are called all sorts of names, belittled and made to feel guilty for even thinking anything less than the one who caused the hurt is magical. Because really, you should be lucky they even allow you in their world. Complain? How dare I. (yeah, unraveling this false truth takes time). Even now, my abuse is reinforced because each time I say ‘no’ to someone acting as a friend, they betray me. Good riddance for sure but in the back of my mind, I question if I’m the problem. Scratch that, I’m allowed to say no. Most people think I’m the strongest person in the world; I mostly agree based on my ability to examine and execute but my success is based on knowing myself (including my limits).

I digress.

The moral of the story is I’m in control of observing (or reacting). Fortunately, I am more observant than I am reactive. And that in itself is something to appreciate. I do not have the confidence to share my feelings with others. I’m working on it.

I shared a few words at the start of my lets ‘unveil the crazy’ to the world-daily-posts aka NaNoWriMo. I was balanced and controlled. You can sense the flow in my words but also feel something is being held back. This was the first stage in my unveiling. There is absolutely nothing wrong with me other than the fact I had (and still have faith) in my journey. I know my truths are too much for some people. I understand setting boundaries will cause certain friendships to dissolve. I also understand anyone who projects anything other than love, is no longer welcomed in my space. Mine is a personal journey I choose to share with the world. To this day, I still receive more support than criticism. And for that, I’m so very grateful; sharing my story has empowered others to live their truth.

I have a sunny disposition to life and lead with my heart. My sharing doesn’t mean I’m broken. My sharing means that I am looking for a new way to carry my burden before it destroys me. And for that, how could anyone fault me for acknowledging that I’m no longer strong enough to bare such pain alone? I have built a community and started attracting kindred spirits based on my sharing… my writing resonates with others. It’s kind of beautiful to think about connecting with complete strangers outside of a support group.

I guess what I’m trying to say is THANK YOU. Thank you for sharing this journey. Whether it’s a nod, like, direct message, spiritual shout-out, or smirk… I appreciate all the good vibes flowing my way. Rest easy; I’m constantly blasting love to you, my readers and supporters.

Much love. Always.

The hidden​ benefit of letters of gratitude

I’ve been thinking about the current alignment of the planets and the moon… apparently, Mercury is in retrograde (again)? I’m not 100% sure but this seems to be code for the abundance of energy being thrown around!

I’ve been learning about how some people are empowered and others are using this energy to cause trouble. To each is own. Whatever makes people happy [as long as it’s not at the cost of another’s peace]. I’m going to use the energy for some self-acknowledgment and outline some of the benefits of my letters of gratitude. These benefits have been made very clear in the last few days…

My bad memory. On numerous occasions, I’ve read that the secret to happiness is a bad memory. Truth be told, even if someone wrongs me, I actively seek forgiveness to let go. Forgiveness doesn’t mean that I have forgotten, it just means that I no longer allow something to bother me. It’s completely for me, not them. One of the ways that I’m able to find forgiveness is by finding the lesson. The lesson is identified through my letter of gratitude… thanking someone for teaching me something or helping me grow mentally, physically, emotionally, or spiritually is a way of life. Having a fantastic life starts with having a grateful heart.

My poor boundary setting. I still struggle with boundaries. I personally do not think that boundaries need to be set. A basic quality of humanity should be to respect others. When you respect others, there isn’t a need to identify boundaries because they are already being followed. Some of the recipients of my letters of gratitude are because they crossed a boundary. They abused me, disrespected me, lied to me, or generally violated me in some way after I specifically asked them to stop. My letters of gratitude call out behaviour in an introspective way “thank you for helping me learn what I do not like” rather than “you are rude” type of way.

My ability to love. My spirit is super strong. My heart is pure because of the strength of my spirit. Purity of heart is how I’m able to love others. I’m not talking about being in love with others. I’m talking about being present. Giving my time without expectation. Sharing words that build. Sharing thoughts that allow others to reflect and grow. Sometimes judging but always in a way that challenges growth because, in my heart, I just want to see people also living life to the fullest. Very often, I’m told that I see people when they feel invisible. I think that’s meant to be a compliment…

My ability to see spirits rather than bodies. Sure, I often enjoy gazing at the meatheads at the gym. I am also a sucker for broad shoulders and calloused hands (deep down it makes me feel secure when I see a man’s man that can build me something if the need arises). But that’s all smoke and mirrors because I can see souls. I can see when people are being authentic. I can feel when someone is hurting. My heart gets pulled in a number of ways to help others. I don’t overthink, I just jump in to help. The pitfall is that narcissists/sociopaths/psychopaths all have severe unresolved pain and their soul is intoxicating. I have to remind myself that helping them is bad karma – they need to help themselves before engaging with me. I can inspire but should never actually engage.

My ability to consume & process. My mind is able to process an abnormal amount of things (thanks to over a decade of severe trauma). I do not admit this with ego. It’s actually a coping mechanism. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy but have converted something tragic into a tool. Severe trauma put me into survival mode. Survival mode is high anxiety and high adrenaline. I call it an addiction to cortisol (stress hormone). I have proven the ability to complete complex tasks under an absurd amount of stress because that’s my ‘normal operating state’. This state makes me difficult to relate but I’ve been able to resonate with the right people. I understand that I’m in the minority for a number of my accomplishments and that’s ok. I do not reference to brag, just to acknowledge that my ‘norm’ is slightly higher than the norm. I have extremely high expectations of myself and this part of my journey is to not set stretch goals as an attempt to just observe… and more importantly, be more gentle with myself.

If that makes sense.

So my letters of gratitude are not just to spread love and give others the warm fuzzies. It’s also helping me appreciate my softness. It helps me to remember things that I’ve let go. It helps me accept things about myself. And I’m starting to improve at telling people no. I might elaborate on the power of ‘NO’ in another blog post. Today, I acknowledge the hidden and potentially self-serving benefits of my letters of gratitude.

#WhyIWrite #MentalWellness #Writer #LettersOfGratitude #WednesdayGratitude

Letter of Gratitude: Brokenness & Self-Care

Dearest Dan,

I was in the market for a new lover. My roster has been cleared for quite some time and I knew I wasn’t ready to be in a relationship. At least not in what society dubs as a conventional relationship. Taking on a lover is a non-committal commitment. It’s not physical but it is. It’s not spiritual but it is. It’s not emotional but it is. Lovers are everything and nothing all in one. I take on a lover when my soul needs to learn something. Being in ‘Be Mode’, I thought I knew what my soul needed but you provided something much bigger (and better).

I was thinking that I needed to test myself on integrity. Words vs actions. I’ve been clouded by other’s messy intentions for quite some time and needed to dip my toe back into the water to trust others and test myself (reaction vs response). You were a perfect selection as your execution is without question (thank you US Marines) and your family story is also sprinkled with betrayal (kindred soul). Whether you want to admit it or not, our souls recognized one another.

When I give, I give fully. Not with expectation other than the utmost integrity from the receiver. Typically I get hurt when integrity is compromised and I lash out. Part of this chapter is purifying myself so I can accept the lesson and be grateful rather than unleash a fury of words that I cannot take back. #HumanityFirst

I allowed you into my heart, soul, and physical space. Only 3 people have experienced that combination in 2017; I question my healing before opening this space. If not healed, then I’d project things other than love towards others. Sharing energy becomes more particular once you realise what’s really happening.

There are sentiments that I haven’t been able to articulate but find purging words allows for a deeper level of understanding. One of the MANY gifts of my letters of gratitude is checking my purity of heart. Yes, I needed to test my reaction to questionable integrity of others but more importantly, I needed to test my own integrity. Was I able to be heart centered? Was I in free flow and trusting? Or did I have a single shred of apprehension? Was I successful in heeding caution of my intuition? (My intuition gets cloudy when emotions are involved. My heart is super powerful).

Thank you for reminding me of destruction towards others if emotions are not fully processed. Thank you for being a manifestation of resilience. Thank you for creating space for me to be in give mode. Thank you for reminding me of the depth of my love towards others. Thank you for reminding me of the purity of my heart (You held up a mirror that I’m no longer broken).

Thank you for showing me that some of life’s most important lessons are unexpected. Our exchange was a beautiful reminder that I shouldn’t always put people into boxes or give too quickly.

Thank you for being one of my favourite lessons thus far for 2018!

With love,
Jess

PS: Thank you for your selflessness to protect and serve our country.

#LetterOfGratitude #WednesdayGratitude #GratitudeWednesday #Gratitude #Lovers #Fighters #FailedPenpals