Life's Little Lettuces

Magnets And Mischief

2011-07-22T13:21:00.000+01:00

Image via Wikipedia"I've learned so much from my mistakes... I'm thinking of making a few more!"

I'm not normally a great fan of fridge magnets, but I couldn't resist buying the one with those words on it. It sits proudly on my cooker extractor - and brings a wry smile to my face each time I see it. Because right now, I have the wind in my tail (an old expression my mother used to use) and I can feel some mischief brewing. Nothing major, nothing like some of the really ridiculous antics I have been known to get up to - nope, this is a different feeling. And I like it!

This morning, for example, I woke up late after a wonderful evening last night chatting with a new friend who decided to pop round and see me on a whim. I have known him for a while, but we suddenly seem to have found a deeper connection... hmmm... perhaps that's why I'm feeling slightly coquettish today? Anyway, back to this morning. I woke up late as I said and, rather than feeling guilty about it, I decided to enjoy the moment and make the most of the free time I seem to be enjoying at the moment. So I stayed in bed a good while longer, reading emails and checking the news on my iPhone. I then took a leisurely shower, got dressed and came downstairs to make a cup of tea.

Nothing cheeky in that, you may be thinking. Well, you'd be right - but then I haven't explained what has been happening over the past few days. Neither have I explained my thought processes, or my growing determination to stand up taller and fight my corner.

In the past, you see, I have often chosen to behave "like a good girl" when it comes to my own battles. Like so many of us, I had believed that if I was to project enough kindness, respect and love in to a situation, it would heal of it's own accord. I still hold with that opinion - and yet at the same time I've also learned that there are alternative choices available to me. I've learned that sometimes, sometimes, just turning the other cheek isn't always the best solution. And this is why I have the wind in my tail.

Since joining Lovefraud, the hits on this blog have gone through the roof (thank you to everyone who has been reading, and thanks also for the emails... it means a huge amount to me). Among those hits, however, are a concentrated number coming from... him. Now, I can't be certain, but the signs are there and I'm pretty sure that once again I am on his radar. The last time this happened, I wrote a post that was specifically directed at him. After it was published, the hits stopped - coincidence? I don't think so.

This time, though, my reaction is different. Now I am in a different place and I have learned so much more. I am stronger. I am more confident - not just outwardly, but on the inside as well. After all, haven't I proved that I have made it against the odds and despite his best efforts to thwart me? Right now there are a few lose ends that still need tying up - for obvious reasons I will not go in to details here at the moment, but when everything is done and dusted I will happily share the strategies I've been employing to deal with the impossible.

So as I said, this time my reaction is different. I don't care whether or not he is scouring my blog. I am not rising to the bait in the same way. This time I am biding my time - and this is where the mischief comes in to the story. A short while ago, during another chat with my friend Beatrix (a lady I've talked about in previous posts) she advised me to realign myself with the female warrior archetypes. This is a subject that has fascinated me over the past couple of years as I'm sure you can imagine.

Probably the most legendary female warriors are the Amazon tribe - this is a description I found online:

Women have long been defenders of their families, and the Amazon tribe of Warrior Women has become legendary because of their ability to engage in fierce battle--even sacrificing part of their female physique to facilitate warfare. Loyalty to the family and tribe is among the Amazon's notable characteristics, along with nurturing their young and transmitting lessons of power and self-defense. In today's society, the Warrior Woman has emerged in its glory once again through women who liberate and protect others, especially women and children who need vocal and financial representation. (Read more here)

Although I don't intend to cut off any part of my body, I am certainly prepared to take on the mantle of an Amazon warrior - to defend my family and go in to battle. Because this time I am ready to change my approach and work with my inner warrior. Today I feel filled with a sense of mischievous confidence. There is no longer any need for me to sharpen weapons or prepare myself against the threat of an onslaught. No, that is all behind me now. But I do feel the invitation to step up and stay alert - and to chose stealth and strategy above passive acceptance.

As I said at the beginning, I have the wind in my tail and a glint in my eye. I do not yet know the process I am going to employ - but I do know that it will come as a surprise for my adversary. I also know it will be final. No-body and no-thing is ever going to threaten me ever again. I am ready - so those who wish me harm had better watch their backs. They may not know where, when or how I'm going to make my move, but they'll certainly know when I've done it. They can run but they cannot hide - because I'm ready, and I'm not afraid anymore.

Hmmm... this could be fun...

New Beginnings

2011-07-17T13:59:00.001+01:00

Yup, I know I said in my last post that I'd finished this blog, but things have changed... and I'm very excited!

Over the two years that I've been writing, I've received countless messages of support that have kept me going along the way. As well as support, though, people have also emailed to thank me for sharing my experiences. It appears that my stories have provided help to others who have had their own challenges - some related to mine, others completely different. It has been those messages that have made me realise that perhaps I have more I can offer. Over recent months, what started as a smouldering curiosity has grown in to a burning determination to help others find their inner strength - after all, if I can do it then so can anyone else.

Having had more time to myself while work has quietened down, I've been thinking about ways to get my message out to a larger audience. A few weeks ago I parted company with my literary agent (while some may say that was foolish, I believe it was the right thing to do since he didn't 'get' my intentions) and since then have been searching for alternatives. I've been researching various options that might be available - agents, publishing houses, e-books and self-publishing... and then all of a sudden the perfect opportunity turned up. Right there in front of my face - it had been there all the time (fitting perfectly with my constant mantra "All I need is within me - it's already here") just waiting for the right opportunity to arise.

During the early months after April 2009, I spent many hours going through Lovefraud.com a website dedicated to help those who have been targeted by a sociopath. It provides useful information as well as education on a subject about which surprisingly little is known. As well as that it has a thriving community who share stories and give each other support. For me, I was both appalled and relieved to discover that I was not alone in my experiences - in fact, as Donna Andersen explains on the home page:

"Experts estimate that 1% to 4% of the population are sociopaths, depending upon whom you ask. That means there may be 3 million to 12 million sociopaths in the United States, and 68 million to 272 million sociopaths worldwide" (you can click on the picture top right to buy her book)

So I decided that now would be the right time to make contact with Donna and offer my voice to her crusade. I was surprised and delighted to receive a positive response within a couple of days, and now I am very excited to announce that as from this week I am to join Lovefraud's team of authors! Tomorrow, Monday, Donna will be introducing me to the community, and Tuesday will be my first post.

Because of that, I have decided to re-open this blog and continue adding stories as things progress. I have just been chatting with one of my oldest friends who asked whether it all feels a bit surreal. To which my response was "no, it feels like I'm coming home" Because this is what I was born to do.

Of course, I am yet to see how my stories will be received - but I hope that this forum will help me to get my message out to more people. If some have already benefited from entries on this blog, then perhaps now I can reach many more. I am quite sure that I will not be to everybody's taste - but if I can help just one more person to escape the shackles of pain and destruction, well then it will all have been worthwhile.

Once more I find myself giving thanks to my ex (and others) because their actions have taught me to find myself. To bring forth the inner strength to reclaim my life and enjoy love and happiness - on my terms. As the title says, these are new beginnings - and boy am I ready... Bring it on!

Spa, Sea And Signatures - The War Is Over

2011-05-03T13:52:00.000+01:00

Image by dictatordiva via FlickrIt's been an astonishing roller-coaster of a ride - and the past couple of weeks have been no less exciting as I come to the end of an era. This, for the time being, is the final post for Life's Little Lettuces - because the war has been won. I have come through, and as I said recently, there is no longer any need for me to fight or 'survive'. Because I've done it. All the things that two short years ago seemed impossible have been achieved. Mind you, had I realised at the time just how tricky it would be to navigate my pathway to freedom through such a cruel and unrelenting jungle of circumstances, I'm not sure that I'd have had the courage to continue. It is said that ignorance is bliss - and in this respect, I totally agree!

But enough of that - my battles are well documented in this blog. So now I'd like to update you on the quite extraordinary twists that have happened over recent weeks. All of which have brought me to the conclusion that yes, I HAVE won. I CAN move forward - and for the first time in my life I can move with neither baggage nor the need to prove myself. Instead, just to enjoy who I am and embark on wonderful new adventures - just for me.

A couple of weeks ago I secured all the signatures from my ex that have been necessary for me to get closure on the mess that was left for me to deal with. As you know, I have had no contact with him since the day I discovered the truth - and he has steadfastly refused to respond to any number of solicitors letters. Yet on 20th April he came to his senses and was convinced by my legal team to put his signature to every piece of paper that was put in front of him. No mean feat - but mission accomplished. And two days before the two year anniversary of my discovery as well. Full cycle. Job done. The relief was indescribable - when I received the call to say it was done I dissolved in to a heap of grateful tears, having been told by numerous ill-informed professionals that this would be an impossible route, with no hope of achievement - Pah! Incidentally, just a day earlier my relationship had come to an end - another painful episode, but one that in hindsight was perfect timing.

That evening I collected Dylan from Angouleme train station (he'd been at a friend's house for a long weekend) and told him what had happened. Tears rolling down both our faces, we hugged each other and he asked "so is it really over now mum?" Nodding, and holding him closer, I managed a quiet "yes, my darling. It's over. We can move on now" before we headed off to the local supermarket to choose some suitably expensive champagne and a delicious supper of baked fish, salad, and asparagus.

That night will stay in my memory of one of the best nights of my life. He and I spend the evening sipping champagne, listening to music, eating some of our favourite foods, and chatting - about everything. We shared secrets, we laughed, we cried, we told jokes and - most importantly - we were just 'us' together, finding out so much more about each other and both thoroughly enjoying each other's company. My beautiful son is still only 15 years old, yet he is wise beyond his years and fantastic company to boot! Quick witted, mature, and growing in to such an amazing young man in front of my very eyes, I am so very proud to call him not only my son, but my friend as well. Thank you, Dylan, I love you beyond any words I can find to explain.

The next morning I dropped him back at Angouleme train station, since he was staying with his father in London over Easter – a journey that takes him north to Lille where he changes and gets the Eurostar over to England. It’s only the second time he’s done it on his own, so I was a little nervous. Leaving with plenty of time to spare, our journey had been hijacked by unexpected roadworks and an interminable queue of cars in front of us. Patience doesn’t seem to be a word or attitude known to the French, and there was much tooting of horns and revving of engines, accompanied by shouting and waving of fists out of car windows as many decided to turn around and find an alternative route. There was no alternative route for our destination, as we were literally a couple of kilometres from the station – so we had no option but to sit tight and trust that we’d find a solution. Warning his dad that we may miss the train, we battled on through and finally arrived at the station ten minutes after the train had been due to depart. Chucking open the doors and urging Dylan to “run for it!” I went to park the car while he scurried off to his platform, in the thin hope that perhaps the train was late. Just as I was locking the car, Dylan called me to say he was the luckiest boy in the world because his train had indeed been delayed, and he was just boarding now. Phew – what a relief!

But my relief it had been short lived. Because less than 5 minutes later he called me back. The tone of his voice said it all, before he even explained what had happened. He was on the wrong train and was now hurtling towards Paris, rather than Lille, his intended destination. My stomach on the floor and panic coursing sharply through my veins, I reassured him that all would be well, that his father and I would get on the case, instructing him meanwhile to stay calm and find the on-board attendant and explain what had happened. Flurries of texts and phonecalls followed, until finally we found a solution. Dylan was to get off the train at Poitiers and re-join another one that would take him to Lille. As it happened, timing must have been with us, because he ended up on the original train he had been due to board at Angouleme. Phew. All’s well that ends well – and some useful extra information learned as well. We now know that there is more than one way to get to Lille should we be faced with similar challenges in the future. Good.

That afternoon, bags packed, I set off for Jonzac, to the Thermal Spa where my friend Judi had started the first of her three weeks of treatments. Covered by the French equivalent of the NHS, this is a place where people of a certain age come - often on a yearly pilgrimage - to relax in the natural healing 'thermes' and receive treatments for their aches and pains, bronchial disorders, arthritis and general aches and pains. It's an amazing place, and a wonderful service. No wonder all the residents looked so perky!

Judi had suggested a while ago that it would be good if I could join her for a few days. I wasn’t completely sold at first, it must be said, as I wondered what it might entail – and part of me was also nervous at the thought of going to a spa. At the time, my internal policeman wagged his finger and admonished me for even considering such a thing “What? Who do you think you are? You’re thinking of going off and spending valuable time being pampered? Don’t be so ridiculous – there is work to be done! Mustn’t take your eye off the ball!”

As luck would have it, it turned out that I was to be on my own at Easter, what with it being so late this year the normal village visitors would not be here, and Dylan was away in London. Since it is also a Bank Holiday – both in France and the UK – my policeman was at least quitened by the fact that there would be no pressing business calls or emails to deal with. After all, I was either going to be sitting at home or sitting at the spa – and perhaps with a bit of physical rest and care I was more likely to come back to work with a renewed sense of energy and determination. “Alright ma’am, I’ll let you off this time. You can go. But don’t get yourself too comfortable there, I’ve got my eye on you!” and with that he marched off in to the distance, tutting and writing in his notebook. I had no doubt he’d be back later to check that I was towing the line.

So I turned up on Thursday afternoon to be greeted by a beaming Judi who already looked as though the years were falling from her – and she’d only had two sessions! Her accommodation was a small but perfectly formed little bungalow that was to be her home for the next three weeks. It has a reasonably sized white-tiled kitchen and living room, double bedroom, bathroom and terraces at the front and back. There is a click-clack sofa-bed in the front room, and a welcome note that encourages all visitors to help themselves to the array of herbs that are growing in the surrounding grassed gardens – where there are small tables and chairs dotted around among the trees and shrubs. Immediately there was a sense of peace and tranquillity that welcomed my weary body and soul, whispering a promise that this was only the beginning.

My sessions were due to start at 11.30 the next morning, and Judi filled me in on what was to be expected. I simply turn up – with my costume, rubber flip-flops and the obligatory ‘bonnet’ (swimming cap) that can only be described as a religion at French swimming baths. I count myself lucky that I'm female, as the men have to wear not only the bonnets, but also the nations favourite swimming attire, the Speedo trunks. Practically antiques in the UK, these tight underpants are less than flattering to even the most finely honed physique. To people of a certain age, I would call them torture!

Once inside, I was given a swimming bag, together with a pink dressing gown, towel and hanger to leave my clothes. Duly changed in to my costume and flip-flops, I was ushered in to speak to one of the medical professionals to discuss my treatment. I noticed that all the other people milling around at reception were dressed in biscuit-brown gowns, and I was conscious that I stood out from the crowd. I wondered whether it was because it was my first day. “Oh no, Madame. You see these people are all here for health reasons – they have been sent by their doctors. You are here by choice – to give yourself some personal care.”

We went through the options available on my package – a choice of four sessions from their regular menu, and two additional sessions from the a la carte. After answering some simple health questions (Any allergies? Medication? Pregnant – “at your age I would highly doubt that!” she answered for me, crossing through the possibility before I’d even opened my mouth) we opted for a river of jets for my legs, an aromatherapy spray treatment for my body, a water-jet session for my back, a steam-room for my lungs (all from the regular menu) and a kaolin bath soak for muscle relaxation plus a 45-minute aromatherapy all-over body massage from the a la carte. “You’ll see Madame” she chirped “you’ll come out feeling en pleine forme!”

She accompanied me to my first session – the bain de boue – a kaolin and sulphur bath where up to 12 people float around in weightless silence. Waiting our turn, the crew of people on the benches seemed curious about my pink bath-robe. One gentleman plucked up the courage to ask why I was wearning a different colour, so I explained what I had been told "Wait til you get to our age" they chorused "it's free, and you can come every year!" their bright eyes twinkling as they nudged each other with knowing smiles. The treatment was amazing. Hollowed in to the caves, with low lighting and white-coated assistants at every corner, this warm bath is like walking in to a pool of double cream. For the next 15 minutes, we all floated off into our own worlds before gently climbing out to shower ourselves free of the creamy residue that seems to get everywhere. I smiled at my new friends in agreement - "isn't this wonderful?"

I had two more treatments (water jets massaging my back, a river filled with jets that massage legs) before heading off to a treatment in a private room where you stand naked while aromatherapy jets squirt over your back and sides. Waiting on the benches I bumped in to the same gentleman who had questioned me about the colour of my gown “Ah – la madame en rose, tres jolie!” he beamed “oui, la vie en rose et vraiment belle eh?” I smiled, as the rest of the brown-robed residents winked and nodded their agreement.

I finished off with a 45 minute aromatherapy full-body massage, and then a session in the steam room, where I contemplated the experiences. I remembered the conversation I'd had earlier that week with my friend who told me about his pendulum theory, and I burst out laughing (luckily I was the only person in the steam room!) It suddenly occurred to me that the French instructions to "soignez-vous" (care for yourself) doesn't mean emergency sticking plaster! It means taking the time to give yourself recognition and appreciation - at any time, and ALL the time. In that moment, I suddenly realised that I could care for myself - with these wonderful treatments, for example, just for the heck of it! Why wait until I'm sick or tired! No wonder those biscuit-gowned oldies had such twinkling eyes and a spring in their step!

I had three days of these wonderful treatments, broken up only by the Sunday when the spa is closed. So that day Judi and I decided to take a trip to the seaside. I adore being by the sea - having been brought up in Brighton, I know the ocean to be a place that always brings me a sense of peace and calm. So, off we trotted to find ourselves some sea, and a dish of the French coastal speciality, fruits de mer.

It was a wonderful day. Filled with laughter, chattering, exploration and eating. The fruits de mer was absolutely delicious - clearly fresh from the sea that day, and served in such a simple manner, it was one of the best meals I've ever had.

By the time I had completed my sessions, and was packing to come back home on Tuesday morning, I knew that something had fundamentally shifted inside me. I have been losing weight (13lbs already melted away as I write this, only another 7lbs to go to hit my target) - but I am lighter in every way, not just physically. Because gone too at last are the cares and worries that I’ve been fighting to overcome for so long. Those cares and worries that, in essence, had kept me going for more years than I care to remember. The same cares and worries that made me resilient, that gave me the determination to overcome every new challenge - no matter the enormity - so that I could finally set myself free. It's true that the resulting battles of recent years had left me broken and weary, sinking even in to depression over the past few weeks as I struggled to find peace and a new way forward as more and more battles were won. Because for decades, 'survival' had become a part of my being. I’d become so adept at handling any kind of adversity that, once the war was well on the way to being won, I simply didn’t know who I was anymore.

But now, as a result of the spa, the seaside, the signatures - and so much more - I DO know who I am. The healing is complete, and the recognition of what my life can now become is profound and exciting. I am calm. Clear. Clean and washed free of past struggles. Reborn, if you like, to thrive... My burdens are finally gone. I am light, wide eyed and full of wonderment. Oh, and as for that pesky internal policeman? He's on long-term gardening leave - a one-way ticket.

Don't get me wrong, I am still grateful for the gifts that my struggles have brought me. I've learned many things about myself and about others. I've learned that not all people are 'good' - at least not all the time. I've learned to steer clear of anyone who drains my energy - or who doesn't respect me for who I am. I've learned that I love to write. I've learned that I can create a successful and worthwhile business on my own merits. I've learned that I am loved and supported... That friendship and connection is the most important thing in the world.. And I've learned that I am rich indeed. I've learned that I enjoy my own company, and trust that no matter what happens everything always works out. I've learned that I'm a loving soul who has worked long and hard... And also that the work has been a gift. Because now I appreciate myself... And if I was to meet 'me' in person, I'd shake my hand and say something like "bloody well done old girl... You've exceeded expectations" and I'd ask myself to be my friend. Because I like me... Very much indeed. So now I'm going to spend time developing my friendship with myself. I'm going to play and have fun. Lighten up, shine, and relish the freedom and beauty that is here for me to enjoy.

I am the key to my own happiness... No-body and no-thing else.

So I'm off to create magical experiences from choice, not necessity. I already have plans for a whole new adventure... Something that has been rumbling in the background for 13 years. I'm in no rush. I have all the time in the world. When I'm ready and satisfied that I've developed it sufficiently, I will be sharing it with all those who care to play.

Until then, I'm signing off from this particular blog and phase of my life. Instead I'm off on my own adventures - who knows where they may lead me, but rest assured I'll continue writing. It will be in a different format, and I will let you know when there is more to read.

So, til we meet again, thank you all for your support, your feedback and most importantly your love. I wouldn't be where I am today without you. In deepest gratitude, and from the core of my being, the very essence of who I am, I salute you and I thank you all.

Toodle-oo and pip pip for now... Look out for the postcards!

Mel xxx

Forget The Cabaret - Life Is A Pendulum Old Chums

2011-04-19T23:00:00.000+01:00

Image via WikipediaToday has been one of those weird ones - you know the times where you actually know what's about to happen (what needs to happen) yet when it does it still takes you by surprise, and you find yourself dealing with waves of emotions to be digested, reflected upon and made sense of? I guess it could be likened to a school exam, where you know in your heart of hearts that you've done really badly and yet are still shocked to receive the official confirmation in the form of a bad result?

The funny thing for me is that before today day had even started, I was already in the place of knowing and choosing this particular outcome - so the news was no surprise. No, the news was just the natural tidy up of lose ends, burnt and beaded threads that had been flapping in the wind, slapping frantically against my bare skin, urging me to wake from a dream that had turned in to a nightmare.

Like I said - a weird one. The signs are always here. There's always something going on. Always a truth that rumbles gently - or finally crashes around using every available method - until it's noticed, and actioned. Co-incidence and serendipity - being in the flow - allowing and enjoying - when those are the kind sensations and experiences that fill my time, then I know I'm acting from my own inner wisdom. When there are struggles and difficulties, that's when I know there's a lesson to be learned - but it can sometimes take a while for me to heed the lesson, however good the outcome will be! Change, you see - even the good stuff can be daunting!

On Saturday I enjoyed a particularly helpful Skype conversation with a friend of mine (thanks, Grasshopper, you know who you are!) - one of those so called happy co-incidences, because we hadn't spoken for ages and yet he'd popped in to my head just half an hour or so before I received his call. Concerned that I appeared somewhat troubled, he offered to take me through a new coaching process he'd been learning. Of course I agreed - I love this stuff, and was also keen to quieten the inner battles that had been tiring me. So, with his help, and with him acting as my guide and my witness, we walked through some of my core beliefs. To my surprise, it turned out that I still had the last vestiges of an old and deeply engrained parasitic belief that for years had been burrowed tick-like in to my being. The old and worn-out song that I'm not good enough. Small - tiny, in fact - but there none the less. So through our honest conversation, and following this new process, he helped me to at last release myself from the remaining defiant pincers that had, until that point, still kept a part of themselves embedded in to my flesh. Gotcha you sneaky, slippery little sucker! Phew. That feels better!

And, out of the blue, another co-incidental bit of help came my way this afternoon when I dropped in to see another friend on my way back from town. I'd expected to share a coffee and the usual welcoming, questioning female chats I enjoy so much with his wife - but she was out. So instead he and I sat in the sunshine discussing life, the universe and all that is - or was, or could be, or might still be. It was a delicious and most unforeseen pleasure I was least expecting - perhaps we drank too much of that really strong coffee - or perhaps it really was serendipity. I don't know for sure. But the resulting free-flow of conversation was both surprising and enlightening - and a most unexpected gift.

He spoke to me, quite candidly, about the 'inferno' that he (and others) recognise burns within me - insistent, voracious, and on occasions somewhat threatening to others. He spoke about my constant drive to search, adventure, test, push, overcome and bloody well 'do' more than is necessary. He pointed out that (my nature being as it is) I am likely to always continue along that path in one way or another. I spoke about the concept that we all seek 'witnesses' in our life - people who can share our experiences, people who validate our opinions through agreement or variation. We both explored the idea that without feedback and conversation (listening, speaking, sharing, comparing) we confine ourselves to a grey, one-dimentional palette that limits our experiences. He also threw me some facts and posed me some questions, likening the human journey to the swinging of a pendulum.

Enjoying the coffee and sunshine, together we discussed the notion that, like a pendulum, when we surge in positivity (or negativity) the natural course of nature's law is that we'll experience the same in the alternate spectrum - the equal and opposite natural swing and balance of life. Indeed, a notion that for years I've shared with those who care to listen - and also with those who (in my younger years when all this inner-game stuff was a new obsession) I would corner and pester until either they understood the point I was making or would simply walk away. Yup, I guess you could say I've always been a little intense!

My friend gave me some wise and honest advice, based on his observations of me over the eight years that I've lived here in France and had the honour to call him my friend. Not usually one for speaking out, it came as a welcome surprise to hear his well thought out opinion. He suggested that my challenge is to find the normality within the wild swinging of the pendulum that has, until now, been the blueprint of my existence. To seek the normality as the pendulum speeds over it again and again. To notice exactly what normality is, and to enjoy it. The wry and knowing smile spoke volumes "those who find it say it's much closer than most people think... isn't that the stuff you study and teach Mel?"

His advice beautifully mirrors that of a conscious and very personal intention I made public a short while ago - my decision, my choice, my declaration to now live my life for me - for Mel Pledger, age 46 and a quarter. To find out, from a place of safety, who I really am. To put myself first and to heed my inner self. To let my intuition grow, thrive, and guide me. Because, no longer willing to play "the fighter" or "the survivor"... I've realised that I've finally "done it". I've made it through. I AM enough (I always was - doh! - don't you hate it when that happens?) and now my conscious focus is to enjoy my life. To appreciate the here and now. To wake up and smell the coffee, or slow down and admire the roses - whatever phrase we choose... whatever pace we enjoy.

My friend, today, was advising me just to be me - to enjoy the 'normality' that is actually what life is about. I shared with him my understanding of who I think I really am, how I really choose to enjoy my live - which is to live a simple life, to love and to be loved. My friend smiled.

And guess what, as I'm typing these words, the track that's just started playing in the background right now (as if by coincidence?) is one of my all time favourite tracks that alway signals forward movement for me - Eddie Reader's "I'm In The Right Place Now"... as I said at the beginning, funny ain't it?

I have a feeling that I'll always be an adventurer. I'll always seek more from life. I'll question, I'll analyse, I'll push, I'll prod, I'll poke... I'll piss people off - and help others to find their pathway... and you know what? I'll always keep finding more to excite and engage me. I already have the best memory albums of life's travels - and there's plenty more space to fill. Bring it on - gently and steadily from now on please.

The news I started this post with, is that the Journeyman I spoke of in a previous post has gone his own way. It's certainly true that he has taught me much - mainly that I'm worth so much more than I would have settled for. So, to you, Journeyman, I thank you, I release you, and I set you free. Class complete. See you in another lifetime my friend - our work here together this time around is done.

Broken...?

2011-04-02T16:05:00.000+01:00

Image by Sebastiano Pitruzzello (aka gorillaradio) via FlickrYup... because broken, bust, wiped out, knackered are all certainly all words I'd use to describe the way I'm feeling right now. Others may well choose to use other adjectives - prickly, unreasonable, bad-tempered and generally difficult would be some of my guesses based on reactions and expressions I've witnessed in response to my behaviour over the past few days!

The first three months of this year have already proven to be one heck of a ride - in so very many ways. At the time, though, I knew exactly what I was signing up for - and it certainly has over-delivered on the results I was expecting. More than just a means to an end, I've achieved more than I thought could be expected in such a short space of time - and I've done it by asking more of myself than I would have asked even of the strongest mental or physical athlete. And yes, my friends, I've done it. Yes, I knew I'd hit some kind of meltdown once I had the chance to stop and let go, that was inevitable, part of nature's way... but this? This level of fatigue, exhaustion, aching and what can only be described as mental and physical wipeout? No, I must admit that I certainly was not expecting quite such a spectacular collapse. Even by my own measurements, this is really quite a big one!

And I KNOW it's a good thing - because I've been here before. Although this time I'm not in the middle of a struggle, nor am I 'fighting' for or against anything or anybody. There are no battles to be won, there are no more legal or emotional mazes to be worked through. Nobody and nothing is threatening me. I am under no pressure. Everything is, in fact, under control and running its own natural course. Yes, ok, there are still some tweaks needed along the way - but in the grand scheme of things the war has been won. It's just a matter of bringing home the last remaining troops.

And yet... and yet... I am totally and utterly depleted. I am inexplicably teary, and unable to focus on anything for more than a few minutes before my head starts pounding and I lose concentration. Nothing left. All gone. Finished. Over and out. And at the very same time I know that all of this simply heralds more positive growth for me. It's another invitation to let go of the old - to break through to more than I've been before by allowing my self to be broken. Because broken I am.

Just yesterday, for example, I received some news that I wasn't expecting. No great shakes, just another wall of bureaucracy that I'll need to jump over before this divorce can be finalised. It's a paperwork trail that requires me to hire yet another professional to complete this specific process because, as I was told by a sympathetic but powerless representative of the company "that's just the way we do it here". Do-able and, in a way understandable, it still sent me in to a tailspin and I simply couldn't muster the energy to get up, get going and get on with it. So instead I moved in to the kitchen and made myself a cup of mint tea.

And here is where I'm realising that 'broken' may well actually mean 'breakthrough'. Because just a few months ago, I would not have let any such reaction stop me or even break my stride. I'd have pushed on through regardless, drawing on my seemingly endless reserves of energy, digging deeper and pulling on whatever resources I could find (personal or external) to get me through. Now, however, because I'm feeling so very broken (for want of a better word) I am instead allowing myself to feel the blow and instead do something to sooth myself. I have quietly walked away from the situation, knowing that it will all work out. Knowing also that I'm much better off looking after myself in the moment rather than pushing harder still to solve something that, quite frankly, can wait just a little while longer. A few hours or days - even weeks - are going to make no difference whatsoever when all is said and done.

Speaking with my very wise friend Judi last night, she instructed me to take my own medicine and spend the next 48 hours only doing things that I know are good for me. Reminding me to listen to myself, to tune in, and to be who I really choose to be. I nodded sagely, smiling all the while she was telling me this, as her words were pretty much exactly the same instructions I had given to a dear friend only a couple of days earlier. She, like me, is in the middle of a change point. A period in her life when, for the first time ever, she has the opportunity to indulge herself, to discover who she is and what brings her happiness. And she's been surprised to discover that she actually doesn't know the answer... yet.

Me? Do I know the answers? Well, to be honest, sometimes I think I do... most of the time, though, I'm very happy to say that I don't - because that way, in my map of the world at least, it means I'm open to learning and growing. Having said that, I am perfectly aware that I can be particularly stubborn when it comes to getting my point across. I also know that I will resolutely stick on a mission if I believe I can help or add value... sometimes when, in hindsight, it may have been wiser to let go more quickly. But hey, with hindsight we're all experts eh?

I do believe though, right from the core of my being, that what may well feel to me is 'a broken Mel' is in actual fact just another set of walls and barriers crumbling down. In my last post I said I'd finished with being the survivor, the victor in any challenge. I said that now I choose to live my life in peace and joy. Well, I've learned along the way that the power of intention is not something to be messed with. I've realised that when I speak of a desire or choice something from a soul-level, it invariably happens - and inevitably brings along with it the bulldozers and demolition crews necessary to batter through my stubborn resistance to making whatever adjustments are necessary.

So now, this time, I'm going along with the ride and enjoying the scenery. This time I have the opportunity to watch what's happening along the way. I can take in the sights, enjoy the atmosphere and yes, smell the coffee as my wishes come true. As the walls crumble down, so a new door is revealed. A door that had been hidden before. A door to another place - to more of my soul - to an even deeper authentic sense of who I really am.

So yes, I am broken. But I think rather that this is finally the end of an automatic survival and fighting habit that I've fine tuned over the years. Don't get me wrong, that habit has served me very well - exceptionally well in actual fact. And those warrior skills are ones I know I can call on at any time. Now, though, the battle is done. I'm giving up the fight, and I'm learning to live with me - just as I am.

OK, then who am I exactly? Well... I am that little girl, no more than four years old, who loves to fly her kite on the beach. The little girl who roars with laughter as the wind whips at her clothes and hair, while the sea applauds with its rhythmic smacking, chuntering and pulling of the pebbles as wave after wave hits the shore. I'm singing in to the wind, imagining wild stories of mythical creatures and magical people, dancing and twirling over the pebbles, swept along by the thrill of it all and the joy of the moment. I know how to ask for more of the things I like, and for less of the things I don't like. Because I'm safe to do that, and I know my requests are heard - and heeded. There may be times I stamp my foot in frustration or fury - but I'm easily soothed and always willing to learn a better way to understand as well as to be understood.

That was me. And now this IS me. All that is left is to continue accepting more and more of who I am - because you know what? I may be frustrating. I may be demanding. I may at times be too loud, and at others too quiet. No, I'm far from being perfect - but fundamentally, underneath it all, I reckon I'm a pretty good egg! And, as everyone knows, you can't make an omelette without breaking an egg :-))

Take A Deep Breath.... And.... Relax.....

2011-03-27T16:58:00.000+01:00

Image by VinothChandar via FlickrPhew... what an absolutely amazing few weeks! Exhilarating, invigorating, frustrating, testing, uplifting, frightening, emotionally challenging.... wow, it sure feels like I've just come off one of the most amazing roller-coaster rides in the world. Now then, normally I detest roller-coasters (just ask Sue, who saw me stride on and then slink straight back off the Pepsi Max ride at Blackpool before it had even started!) but this one... well... I've come off fizzing and buzzing, my hair a little like the professor on Back To The Future, and with a contented smile bigger than the Cheshire Cat after a toke on the hubbly bubbly pipe. And a triumphant air-punching whoop inside me that keeps repeating "I've done it! I've done it! I've flippin well DONE IT!"

It is, once again, a Sunday afternoon. I'm at home in my kitchen, dressing-gowned and happy. The recently enjoyed poached eggs feeding my body, I'm now feeding my soul in one of my favourite ways - writing. I'm finally home, you see, after more than ten weeks of constant work and travel. Now it's my time to relax and to chill out. So, yes, at nearly 3pm new time (well, the clocks have just gone forward, so it's really not even 2pm yet after all) I'm perched at my regular spot in the kitchen, accompanied by three curious cats and the dulcet tones of Seal playing in the background. The particular track at the moment is Adamski's "Crazy" and I can't help but smile at the lyrics: "no we're never gonna survive unless we get a little crazy"

Crazy, for sure, is how I've been for a while. If anyone else had told me they were heading out to achieve the goal I set for myself at the beginning of this year, in the time-frame I determined it would take, I would certainly have questioned their judgement. Perhaps even their sanity! And yes, I'm quite sure that while I've been travelling along this recent journey, then yes... I have indeed had times of being a little crazy. Then again, I'm pretty sure now that we all go a little crazy during times of challenge and development. As you probably know, I prefer to find more growth-related expressions to use in the place of the over-used word "change" because, in my experience, it causes the majority of people to recoil at varying levels. And, whether pushed or jumping, any kind of growth feels very odd - well, it would, wouldn't it? Otherwise it wouldn't be anything other than that which we already know. So, yes, I believe that we all experience craziness to some degree through times of personal expansion - in my case, usually inspired through the need to simply survive.

And survive I most certainly have. Absolutely. No question. Job done. And now, I think I'm heading for another little bit of craziness... because now I'm purposely heading in to a completely new existence.

It struck me a couple of weeks ago that, whilst I'm great at fighting and can turn any situation around to my advantage in the end, one of my key drivers has been to survive. Right from childhood. Almost as if I'm pre-programmed to survive anything that comes my way. And, I've now decided, these past few weeks have been my very last test of survival. I've worked harder than I would ever expect anyone else to do. I've pushed friendships to the edge in order to achieve my goal. And now, now, I've fulfilled my debts, secured my reputation, am in the last stages of finalising the mess that has been my divorce, and have also bought myself a healthy chunk of time in which to do nothing but relax and reflect.

Because I've had enough now. I'm not doing it any more. For goodness sakes, if I haven't yet proved to myself that I AM good enough, that I CAN come back stronger no matter how big the challenge... well, then I'm a harder task-master than I had previously imagined! And you know what? Enough is enough - yes, even for me. I no longer need to survive or to fight. I can finally say that I have indeed won the war.

So, no - no more battles for me. No further need to prove myself by surviving yet another life or sanity threatening challenge. Nope, from now on I am heading out to focus on increasing peace and joy in my life. For the first time in my life, to consciously choose how my life is going to be. Not from a position of feeling under threat, rather instead from a position of relaxation. From the indisputable evidence that I have indeed survived - not just the past couple of years, but also the challenges that see to have become my way of life - now it's time to relax, chill out and find out what I'd really like to do. The financial pressures have vanished. The emotional turmoils have been smoothed and are now flourishing in actual fact. So yes, now I really, truly, honestly am living the dream. Right here, right now, sitting in my lovely home... job done, self-sufficient and glowing with pride.

The thing is... do I actually know how to relax? No, I don't mean just taking a short break before getting straight back on the treadmill... I mean really really relax. To spend time exactly as I choose - with whoever I choose and doing whatever takes my fancy. Well, I'm not sure... I'm certainly willing to learn and yesterday afternoon was a good start. Just home from the UK, my lovely friend Fran came round and together we enjoyed a typical French lunch outside in the warm sunshine - salad, a selection of good cheeses, baguette and of course a glass of wine. We chatted and laughed, and then after that we watched the classic film Thelma and Louise. Fran has herself recently survived some major personal challenges, through which our friendship has flourished and become even stronger than ever before. So, yesterday afternoon, we empathised with the two on-screen friends who started off in innocence planning a couple of days away together, and who ended up finding themselves as they faced an array of unexpected situations that challenge them both to go a little bit crazy. By the end of it we had tears streaming down our faces - neither one of us certain whether we were laughing or crying!

Now, I'm neither a Thelma nor a Louise - but I certainly feel that a new kind of craziness is about to hit. One where I can actually choose to discover exactly what makes me tick. Where I can choose to do the things that bring me joy. Where I can be the person filled with love, peace and safety - I know that's who I really am, because through my fights for survival, I've been lucky enough to glimpse at my soul.

One of my favourite quotes is Ghandi's invitation to us all to "be the change you want to see in the world". So now, even though my engrained habit of more than 40 years has been to get up and get going, I am sitting in stillness. Listening to my soul. Learning to relax and be the joy I'd like to see in my world.

Crazy? Well, I don't know... but it sure feels different... and I LOVE it!

Pyjamas And High Heeled Shoes!

2011-02-27T13:33:00.002Z

Daffodils are out. Crocuses are blooming. And on my table outside the kitchen, my white Carnegie Hyacinth is proudly sprouting flowers. Spring, my friends, is finally coming. And I welcome it with open arms.

Don't get me wrong, winter this year has been an extremely colourful season for me. Lots has been happening and I have finally become comfortable with this feeling of being... well... comfortable! More relaxed in my own skin than I can ever remember, and confident that I can now overcome any obstacle, means that now... now... I am now consciously focusing on accepting more joy and love in to my life.

You see, since my earliest memories, I have learned the art of survival. Not the kind of daily fight for life that face much of the world's population, forced to eek out an existence in abject poverty and cruelty. No, of course I'm not talking about that sort of monumental survival challenge. My battles have been more on the 'inner world' - the emotional, psychological blows that you could say are harder to spot. Bearing no physical scars or disfigurements, and (to the outside world at least) living a life where it seemed I was looked after, there were no questions asked about my well-being.

Much of my life since childhood has been about proving myself - seeking acceptance and constant reassurances that, actually, I am ok. Fighting against injustice, championing the underdog and determining to find another way in the face of adversity, I've found solace in the world of self-development, motivation and coaching. Because each time I am able to help someone work through their issues, I am also helping myself. Yes, you might say my chosen profession is somewhat self-serving. To which I would respond loud and clear - "absolutely. Spot on." Because that's exactly what it is.

It hasn't always been that way. You may remember in a previous post from 2009 I talked about my sudden realisation that all the time I had believed I was coaching people for them, it suddenly dawned on me that I was coaching them for me? That through helping others, I was actually helping to heal myself in the process? You may also remember that, at that time, I decided that my coaching days were therefore over and done. My thought behind it being that surely, if I'm coaching for me rather than my client, then I can no longer call myself a coach? Because to me, my work had been about giving my all - heart and soul - to helping anyone who requested my services. And the realisation that underneath it all, my driving force had likely been the need to heal myself was a bit of a shock to say the least!

Thankfully I've moved on since then. Thankfully I now have a much greater understanding of the saying "if the man is right, the world is right" - and so now I look back at my early coaching days with a misty eyed fondness for the person who threw herself headlong in to her profession, determined to make the world a better place. Because, in the process, and since I started writing this blog, I have indeed succeeded in making the world a better place. My world. The inner landscape that my soul inhabits. The place that, until relatively recently, was cold, brittle and grey - too scared to bend, too bruised to hug, too hoarse to shout.

I hadn't realised that, as well as the castle walls I had built to protect myself, I also had hundreds of bloodthirsty sharks circling in my moat. I had thought, as you know, that the castle was there to protect me - and in my early years it certainly served its' purpose. But as the years rolled by, I became a prisoner in my own fortress. But the strange thing is, I hadn't even noticed.

It's only been over the past few months that friends have told me how difficult it can be to 'help' me. How darned self-sufficient I am, and how obstinate, capable and forthright I will be when faced with a challenge. I'm the first one to jump in when anyone else has a problem - and yet people struggle to get in and give me the kind of help they see I need. Heaven forbid they push too hard, because those circling sharks can attack in a moment's notice should anyone get too close! So the fact that my friends have finally felt able to tell me this, coupled with the fact that I am listening, is a big sign for me that I am finally freeing myself.

Which brings me nicely back to the point about my chosen career to coach and develop teams and individuals. And I can't help but laugh at the irony. Because for more years than I care to remember, I have been advising people to put themselves first. To find ways of accepting more of who they are, and to live their life through choice rather than need. And you know what? Now that I've finally 'got it', I am more than happy to embrace the fact that everything I do is indeed for me - because that's what life is about, and it's the only way to truly walk the talk and be authentic! So... yes, I coach and encourage people because it's good for me. I choose my profession because I like what I'm doing. I live my life to please myself - because then, and only then, can I help others as well.

And by accepting that, I believe I have finally and completely moved out of the 'survival' mode that has been my unconscious programme for nearly all of my life. Because finally, by putting myself first, and by listening to my body and my soul, I can live life in joy. Today, for example, it's now way past 2pm and I'm perched in the middle of my French kitchen in my pyjamas. I am wearing a pair of high heeled shoes I bought yesterday because I like the feel of them on my feet. The double butler sink in front of me has dirty plates in it, and I've just eaten some home-made tomato soup that I made last night. Now I am about to make myself a Nespresso coffee with sugar - and I might even have a square of dark chocolate with it! There are countless things I could be doing for work - but quite frankly I am choosing not to. This is my time, and today I shall spend it as I like, because we never know what's around the corner.

A couple of weekends ago, my dear neighbour died very suddenly from a brain haemorrhage. She was loved by many people, and was always full of life and laughter - so it came as a huge shock to everyone who knew her. She leaves behind grown up children and a husband who now simply doesn't know what to do with himself. Would she have approved of my get-up today? Silky pyjamas, high heeled shoes, and writing my blog in the middle of a messy kitchen?

Darned right she would. She'd probably have laughed like a drain and come along to join me. Bless you, Jacqueline, and rest in peace. I'm sure your smile and laughter is now lighting up the lives of many others who have passed before you. I raise my coffee cup to you my lovely friend - one day we'll see each other again. Until then, I shall continue to live life to the full and wear pyjamas and high heeled shoes whenever I like - Cheers!

30 Years Ago Today

2011-02-06T12:19:00.000Z

Image via WikipediaToday marks an anniversary. On this day, thirty years ago, my mother lost her fight against breast cancer. The disease took her quickly, as we had only known about it for less than a month before, although she had had her suspicions for a long time previously - fear had stopped her from taking action.

My sister called this morning and asked how I was - and I asked the same of her. We talked for a while, as we always do on this anniversary, and as I put the phone down I began to think. And I began to cry - silent emotions filling my heart, misting my vision until the warm wet tears spilled gently down my cheeks. And I wondered who or what the tears were for... so, as is now my way, I decided to write it through... to put it down in words and make sense of the feelings that are rumbling inside me. For this is a definite rumble - none of the crashing, churning bone-breaking stuff of the past two years. No, this is something that deserves appreciation and gentle attention - so that is what I'm doing. Paying attention to whatever is going on for me, and doing my best to appreciate with gratitude the gift that's behind it - for there is always always a gift.

Today I am one more year further on from that day. One more year older (though not necessarily wiser) and one more year along the roller-coaster journey that is my life. And I am lucky. For already, at 46, I have lived two years longer than my mother (and nine years longer than my father). I know all the good things that I am and that I have today - and I am lucky enough to have learned to appreciate life with more senses, colours, sounds and feelings than ever before. It is vibrant. Exhilarating. Intoxicating. And I am learning to ride with the twists and turns that continue to show themselves. So I don't think the rumbles are anything to do with 'today' - no, I think they're something to do with an older place, perhaps even primal.

Hearing my sister brought it home I think. You see, as she was talking, and as we acknowledged how many years had passed since that life-shattering day, I was suddenly transported back to the senses and feelings of that time. You may remember from previous posts that we had both learned to keep our emotions controlled. How to maintain a strong exterior in the hope it would hold everything together. We learned to move along with swan-like grace while our legs and feet paddled like fury below the surface, not just to keep us afloat but also to kick at the monsters that were lurking beneath and threatening to engulf us at any moment. Our hearts were constantly pounding, thumping at our chests from the terror and exhaustion of the situation - but nobody knew.

When mum had first gone in to hospital, just ten days earlier, my sister and I were the only two people who knew what was wrong with her. Nobody was to know - and, had I not confronted her with my own intuition, I suspect that we would not have known either. So we kept this dreadful secret. We smiled at our grandmother who had come to look after us, we carried on as usual at school, and we said nothing to our friends. We believed that if we stayed strong and brave, that this unimaginable nightmare would pass and that everything would return to normal. But of course it didn't. And when she died, I think it was just too much to comprehend. We both just went in to shock and literally shut down.

My sister was 11 years old and I had just turned 16 - and as I look back now at those two little girls who were so suddenly orphaned, both so lost and frightened, stuck in a reality from which there was no escape, my heart bursts with sadness and also with pride. We were so very vulnerable, yet somehow managing to keep ourselves together (at least on the outside) little realising the years of misery that were to follow as we trapped and at the mercy of adults who clearly had no comprehension or interest in our welfare. Our lives were, quite literally, turned upside down. We had to leave our home and our friends, moving to a new town to live with people we hardly knew - and where we never felt welcomed or at home. For the first few weeks of our new life I was on a camp-bed in the dining room...

In those dark days, months and years that followed on from 6th February 1981, I am pretty sure that I would not have had the strength to carry on had it not been for my little sister. Yes, of course I felt responsible to look out for her - and I'm sure that was a huge part of what kept me going. But more than that, it was the love and support that she showed me in return - that was the most important thing. That was what kept me strong and determined, even in the face of relentless and unimaginable horrors. We both passed all our school exams with flying colours, both went to university (although I dropped out) and in the years that followed have both become successful professional people with great reputations in our own fields. Quite an achievement I'd say!

And so now I turn my attention to my son, Dylan, who is today only a few months younger than I was when my life changed for ever. And it really brings everything home to me with a bang. People often tell me that my son is mature beyond his years - although some say it as though it's a bad thing, that he's left his childhood too quickly. I can understand their point of view, and I can also appreciate why some may feel he's becoming a young man too fast for his years. But, then again, they don't see the child-like behaviour that comes out when he and I are alone and watching a DVD in front of the fire, or the silly playground face-pulling games we still play when nobody's around. These are the private codes we share between us, and one of the many connections that make me so proud to have him as my son.

Yes, I accept it's true, I'm sure I've played a part in speeding up his development - and you know what? I wouldn't have it any other way. Mum always spoke to me as an adult, and I'm certain that was one of the many things that helped me get through the tough times. So I have always done the same with Dylan. And, because of my own experiences, and because he has no siblings, I am also very conscious that he has as many life tools at his disposal as early as possible. I fully understand that fate and fortune can turn on a sixpence, so I am keen for my son to be well equipped for any eventuality.

And the past couple of years have proven to me that indeed he is. Because he has already gone through his own tsunami with the shock and aftermath of Mike's disappearance. And he's shone through all of this as a strong, wise, beautiful human being. Because of him I stayed strong, knowing I had to be here for him - much like I felt about my sister after mum's death. And, like the experience with my sister, I realise that what helped me even more was the unconditional love and support that my son gave to me at the same time. That was what really got me through.

So where is the gift? Well, I have already been inundated with countless blessings as a result of difficult circumstances. Today, though, I think the gift I've found through those rumbling emotions is this. It's gratitude for the love and connection I share with my sister and my son - my cherished family. Two people who've been through the storms and have survived. Two people who I know I can count on and who can count on me. To Dylan and to Fenella - I love you.

And bringing that sense of love and gratitude to the surface has just made my day more radiant than it was before I started writing - so thank you for reading!

And to mum? Thank you for making me the person that I am. I hope I'm doing you proud, and I know that one day we'll all be together again - not too soon though, eh? There's a fair few more decades and plenty of adventuring left in me yet - bring it on!

The Journeyman's Code

2011-01-22T11:50:00.000Z

Image by kool_skatkat via FlickrI have always believed in the term soul mate - for various reasons it has a strong meaning for me. To me, a soul mate is somebody you're destined to be with. Somebody you've known for many lifetimes. Somebody who you reconnect with in order to grow and develop together. Soul mates are normally loving and caring, and when they come together the result is usually explosive.

I freely referred to Mike as my soul mate - in many ways I still believe that to be the case. Yes, it was explosive when we came together, and yes for me it was an immensely loving experience. And through everything that has happened in the meantime, I have most certainly grown and developed within my soul and as a human being. So, at this moment in time, I'm still of the belief that perhaps he was my soul mate - of sorts.

This week I've learned a new terminology that I hadn't heard of before. It was explained to me by a wise friend of mine I hold very dear. For now I'll call him Patrick. Over the past couple of years I have been blown away by the kindness and support he has offered me - persistent when I didn't want to listen, and consistent in his gentle but firm approach with me - to the point where a few days ago I said it felt as though he was a soul mate to me. I was surprised by his response. He rebuffed the term because he didn't like it - not because he didn't hold with the meaning behind it, but because he wasn't happy to go by a meaningful name that had previously been given to other people in my life. I could understand his point and, to be fair, he is quite unlike anybody I have known before! He went on to explain that rather than a soulmate, he saw himself as a Journeyman. Somebody who was first and foremost my friend. Somebody who's energy had been connected with me for hundreds of years. Somebody who was destined to turn up in my life to guide and support me. Somebody to challenge me and help me develop as a soul and as a human being. And you know what? I totally agree - he has done, and continues to do all of those things. And I love his definition.

So, as is the way, I felt compelled to write about what I am learning to be The Journeyman's Code. From the few words I've shared to explain the way Patrick describes a Journeyman, you could well imagine him to be one of those incense burning, purple-clad dreadlocked hippy spiritual types who follow the stars and talk about energies, rebirths and reincarnation as though they were all perfectly normal daily occurances. Now, don't get me wrong, I have huge respect for those people and have known many as friends and colleagues. It's just that Patrick, you see, is (in his words) a hairy arsed bloke's bloke - loud and large, and someone you just wouldn't mess with. Since the first time I met him, some six or seven years ago, I called him an enigma. Working in the hospitality industry at the time, he and I would lock horns and butt heads - both stubborn and passionate about our beliefs. He was a person who could rile me - because although it was fun to debate, I could never win an argument with him. He'd put on his thick skin, dig his heels in, and maintain his steely-eyed smile no matter which way I turned. It was infuriating!

After the whole Mike fiasco, he called me on numerous occasions - but I didn't trust him. I didn't understand why he would be concerned about me, and my general paranoia was digging at my reasoning mind, whispering the accusations that perhaps he was just trying to glean information to feed back to my estranged husband. He knew us both, you see, and I had understood him to be a good friend with my husband "We look similar and we've got the same ideas about life - it's as though we're brothers!" Mike would enthuse, both in private and in front of Patrick - which, I suppose, was why I would find my frustrations rising when I felt I couldn't quite connect with him, because no matter the subject, we'd always find something on which to disagree.

I already knew Patrick to be a caring soul - one of those who will stop whatever he's doing in order to help somebody else, no matter what. So I suppose I shouldn't really have been so surprised at his persistent phone calls, just checking up on how I was doing and what was happening. Never intrusive, always calm and strong, he just kept on calling with his consistent message - concern about how I was looking after myself and constant offers of help and advice. And that's how, over time, Patrick and I have become such firm and loyal friends. And that's also how, over recent times, he's shown himself to be so much more than I had ever recognised before. He's taken his time. He's demonstrated his loyalty. He's proven his worth. And on top of that he's helped me in more ways than I can explain. Patrick is one of the people I talked about in the Listen Up post of 13th December. Knowing that I love surprises - and understanding my struggle to accept kindness - he had found a way to celebrate my birthday in style. A birthday cake with candles, and banners strung around the ceiling, this was a thoughtful, striking and special experience that will stay with me for ever. It has been since that time that our conversations have developed as we've explored the more spiritual connection that defines our friendship. This is how the term Journeyman has come in to existence - and now, this is how I refer to him. Because that is what he is.

The Journeyman's Code, I am finding, is very straight forward. It's a challenge, yes, and it surely brings home the saying to never judge a book by it's cover! As I said, I used to call him an enigma - well, as the weeks go on, that is proving to be a ridiculous understatement. It would be like calling Facebook's Mark Zuckerburg "fairly well-off" or Princess Diana "relatively well known". I have come to understand that, when the time is right, a Journeyman will show himself to you. Until you are ready to receive his wisdom, he will stay in the shadows - a part of your life, but keeping his true purpose undercover until the time is right.

A Journeyman will always tell it like it is. He will disregard a flippant answer and will gently cajole for the truth in every situation. Non-judgemental, he will not be hurried or rushed. He understands our deepest fears, and sympathises with the confusions of past experiences. He will listen. He will advise. He will ask the questions that help us find our own solutions. He is filled with energy and determination - he has the strength to stop a rhino in it's tracks, and also the gentleness to cradle a butterfly in his hands. His role cannot be easy - it must be frustrating knowing he can help but having to bide his time. And by the same token, since he IS so driven to help others, I would hope that once his student is willing to learn, his mission becomes one of joy and enrichment.

I hope so. Because I am now a very willing student, and I am learning so much from this remarkable man. He pushes me when I need a shove, he congratulates me when I've achieved a new goal, his work ethic is second to none and he keeps my feet on the ground and my focus clear. He constantly surprises me with his insights, which seem to come out of nowhere. He talks in metaphors that paint such beautiful pictures anyone can understand. He makes me laugh with his stories - and at the same time, you know what? He's always spot on.

I feel honoured that he's decided to show me who he is - it must have taken a huge amount of trust. Because he has a soft underbelly that goes along with his tough gruff exterior - and I don't know how many people understand that. I know that I certainly had no appreciation of the hidden depths that lie within this extraordinary man, and I'd like to think that I'm a pretty good reader of people! No, for whatever reason he's decided to show himself to me - and for that I will always hold him in the highest respect, no matter where this journey takes us.

My Journeyman, for me, is the strongest ally I could ever have asked for - so I feel safe but at the same time scared, because now when we talk, it's exactly like talking to myself. I guess the truth must be that, since I'm only now finding my true self, he has only recently been able to show himself to me.

Hmmm... now there's a thought... perhaps I'm here to help him too...?

A Good Year

2010-12-22T15:58:00.000Z

Image by 丹涅拉 - Dani Gama via FlickrI've learned so much over this past year that I know now, even against the odds, 2010 has actually been a very good year. Not one I care to repeat, thank you very much, but the good times and psychological shifts I've made surely mean that this year goes down in my memory, at least, as a good year. It's been a year of relentless challenges and frightening lows. There have been times when I've thought I wouldn't ever be able to come through. Times when I've even considered the worst - yes, I can say it now - and now, as I've just celebrated my 46th birthday I can look back and appreciate just how far I've come.

This time last year, you may remember, I'd just been advised that the only option available to me was to sell my home in France, giving half the proceeds to my estranged husband, the rest to the Scottish debt agency who were advising me, and take out a loan to repay the remainder of my creditors. So, had I taken their advice, my son and I would have been left homeless and in debt, while 'he' would still be free to continue living in our Edinburgh flat (for which he had not been paying the mortgage) and would also have had a lump sum of money. Pah!

Boy have I moved on from there! It's been tough and the challenges have been relentless. Yet at every step of the way I have absolutely refused to take no for an answer. I've learned that 'professionals' all have their own opinion - and that those opinions can vary tremendously. It would seem that there is no such thing as 'the' law, there is just 'a' law, which can be flexible to the extreme depending on who I'm talking to and how I phrase the questions. And let me tell you, some of the so-called professional advice I've received this year has been utterly laughable - shameful, really, when I think that there must be many people in a similar situation to me who would not have known how to fight. Many times as a child I was chastised for being stubborn or pig-headed... but you know what? Those qualities have served me well throughout these times.

I'm glad that I'm stubborn, and I've also learned to love so many other aspects of my personality that I'm finally getting to know and understand. When I qualified as a Louise Hay trainer in 1997, we were taught to accept ourselves and others exactly as we are - and since that time, I've done my level best to do exactly that. And the thing is, whilst I've been good at spotting hidden treasures in others, I simply hadn't realised what else had been buried beneath my own shell. The soft, squishy parts of me, the little me, that had hidden away for so long!

Yes, this year has taught me to fight. I've learned how to make £10 last for two weeks. I've learned how to turn up at business meetings with a confident smile on my face, not knowing how I would even find the train fare back to my sister's place. I've learned to keep my head held high and my principles strong, fighting for justice against a stream of legal and financial obstacles. I've learned how to create a new business from scratch - and with nothing - and secure a wonderful range of clients doing the work I love. I've learned how to listen to other people's problems, even while feeling overcome by my own situation. I've learned humility and gratitude for the smallest acts of kindness that people have shown me - anonymous deliveries of vegetables, fruit and flowers from surrounding gardens, invitations to dinner, introductions to new friends and colleagues, shoulders to cry on, forgiveness for some of my more outrageous antics. I've learned that even though there were times I may not have been able to buy a loaf of bread, that I'm always safe and rich beyond any 'outside' measure. For I am surrounded by a host of people I'm lucky enough to call my friends. People who care for me, and who will never let me fall - or fail.

So that, my friends, is why this year has been a good year. Perhaps the best. Because the lessons I've learned about myself and others are absolutely beyond measure. And I am grateful. And happy.

As this year draws to a close, I am excited and clear about my future. Next year is going to be an extraordinary year for me - I know it in my bones. Will it be as extraordinary as the previous year? Yes, I'm confident that it will - this time, though, it will be much more joyful because I am already starting it from a place of safety and happiness. Yes, finally I am content and secure - finally ready to accept all the good that life has to offer me, leaping in to life with my arms and my heart wide open. If I achieved so much from a position of hopelessness and fear, well, who knows what endless possibilities are in store for me now.

Thank you, life, this has been a good year indeed!

The Legacy

2010-12-15T18:17:00.000Z

Image via WikipediaIt's interesting, don't you think, the legacy that remains way after an experience has been and gone? The imprint that is left on our soul and that permeates through to our thoughts, feelings and behaviours? I was chatting with a wonderful friend of mine about this just the other day. I had said to her, in all innocence - "Oh, there's something I meant to tell you!" and her response had been "why, what have I done?"

She has recently left a long term relationship in which she'd been unhappy for a long time. Living her life treading on eggshells, afraid of her partner's unpredictable and often abusive reactions, for years she was expecting to be chastised or criticised for something she had or hadn't done. The way in which she might say something, or even the way in which she might approach him. Her automatic fall-back position had been to check what she was doing wrong - because, of course, whatever the issue had been when she was with him, it would always have been her fault.

She's free, now, and is building her own life. Reclaiming her independence and finally starting to believe herself to be the stunningly beautiful, loving, brave and accomplished woman all her friends and family have always known her to be. For years she just thought she was to blame, and did everything she could to appease her partner and keep the peace. Making excuses for his repeated bad behaviour in company, covering over the cracks that the rest of us could see as clear as daylight. These days she looks back at those times and asks herself incredulously "what on earth was I thinking!" shaking her head in disbelief now that she can see so clearly just how damaging many aspects of the relationship had been.

Yes, she's free now. Yes, like any of us who have escaped from similar situations, she can now appreciate the truth of the situation. And yes, also like so many of us, she's still left with the legacy of those many years keeping herself squashed and quiet. Shrinking away from the harsh light of truth, ignoring the signs that things are seriously wrong. Staying silent in order to keep the peace. Appeasing and cajolling, believing that if only you love the other person enough, then everything would be OK. That when things weren't OK, then you blame yourself for not being good enough, or loving enough, or deserving enough. The questions continue - what am I missing? What am I doing wrong? How can I make things better?

Just a few days earlier, during my conversation with Beatrix, we'd had a similar conversation. She had received an entirely inappropriate email from somebody she hardly knew. Vexed and embarrassed by the message, her automatic response was to go back to the person in question and try to understand what must be going on for him in order to prompt such an improper communication. She is a psychologist, and we both share some similar experiences. So I pointed out to her that here she was demonstrating the living legacy of a lifetime spent in an emotionally abusive relationship. Rather than tell the person exactly what she thought, she was intending to put her own feelings to one side and instead do her best to understand where he was coming from - and she'd wanted to do this without appearing offensive in any way shape or form. And yet the message the other person had sent had been both offensive and disrespectful!

This, for me, is a huge legacy - or perhaps a burden - left to many women who have suffered any kind of abuse. Nurturing by nature, we are inherently adept at understanding situations from the other person's point of view. It's a great skill, and is very useful. It's also a great danger when exploited by people who's intention is less than supportive. To those who are lacking in empathy, they know that the target of their unjustified fury will do their level best to understand where they're coming from. That she will bob and weave, listen and learn, do everything within her power to make the other person feel better!

And so we become trapped in a vicious cycle of abuse and blame. The bully's continuing abuse and blame of the victim, and the victim in turn blaming themselves for their inability to make things right. Taking responsibility for situations that were none of their doing in the first place.

When everything was happening to me, I lost track of the number of times I was urged by my friends to not become bitter. To keep open and trusting, and know that what I had experienced was the exception and not the rule. And, whilst my conscious intention was to maintain my unwavering faith in the goodness of human nature, I confess it's been a struggle to stay as willing to accept people as I did before. I've become more selective with people I choose to share my time with. I'm less forgiving of behaviours I would previously have put down to just an intriguing foible or a simple misunderstanding.

For a while I thought that perhaps I was closing down to others. That perhaps I'd become exactly the kind of person I'd been warned by my friends to not be - but now I believe that actually I've become the opposite. Somebody who is exceptionally open and trusting. Somebody who still cares tremendously about the fate of other people. The difference now, though, is that my trust is directed at myself. Now I know my personal boundaries and I know if somebody has crossed the line. And now I won't stand for it anymore. I won't make excuses, I won't shut up and put up - because it doesn't help the other person, and it certainly doesn't help me! And if I can't be honest, open and true to myself, then how on earth can I expect to behave that way with others?

One of my favourite stories that I first heard many years ago puts this beautifully in to perspective. The story exists in many formats, and this is the gist of it. A motivational speaker was busy one weekend working on an important after-dinner speech he was due to deliver the following day. But he was gettting frustrated because the words weren't flowing, and his thoughts were muddled. He was also torn because his small son was nagging him, quite rightly, to come and play with him. He decided that perhaps if he could give his son something to play with for an hour or so, then he could finish writing his speech in peace, and then he could dedicate time with his boy. In one of the Sunday magazines, he'd found a page that depicted the map of the world. So he decided to cut it in to small pieces and give it to his son to put back together again, with the promise that once he'd done that, they could both go out to the park to play. Confident that this task would take his son some time, he settled back in to his writing. He was astounded when, less than ten minutes later, the boy came back to him smiling from ear to ear. The map had been stuck together and the map was perfect. Astonished, the father asked his son how on earth he'd managed to finish such a complex task so quickly? "Easy" replied the boy "on the other side was the picture of a man's face. So I followed that and of course it meant that the map was right as well - now can we go and play?" Laughing, the speaker put down his pen, grateful to his son for not only being so clever but also for giving him the inspiration he'd failed to find by himself. The next day he delivered his best ever motivational speech entitled "When the man is right, his world is right too"

Too often we fall in to the trap of giving our love, trust and openness to others, hoping to make things right, whilst completely ignoring ourselves in the process. It's taken me a long time to truly understand this for myself - and I believe that's why, now, my world is certainly shaping in to a more wonderful place than I've ever experienced before.

Beatrix laughed during our conversation as she realised the habit she'd unwittingly fallen into - needless to say her response to this person turned out to be short, sharp and to the point. He hasn't responded.

Listen Up - I've Got Something To Say...

2010-12-13T16:26:00.000Z

Image by Βethan via FlickrAnd that something is thank you - yes you. Thank you to all of my wonderful friends and family who have supported and loved me over the past 20 months of roller-coaster fortunes and emotions. I'm perfectly sure there have been many times I've been difficult to cope with - and let me say that I'm now more acutely aware of my character flaws than I was before! But then again, I'm more acutely aware of just about everything that's within me and around me than I've ever been before. I feel alive. Shiny and new. Colourful. Expressive. Expansive. Renewed and yes a little raw, but yet exceptionally peaceful.

These days I snuggle down to sleep every night blanketed by a beautifully warm and cuddly feeling of contentment - and deep gratitude for who I am and where I am. For what I'm doing and for how my life is shaping up. Every morning I wake up with a smile on my face, and a thrumming sense of excitement for what new surprises the day may bring. And all around me, all I see is good. All the time I'm growing and learning - and now I'm finally loving being a student of life. Because I know that whatever happens, everything is working out for my highest good. Gone is the fear. Gone is the sense that at any moment I may fall - or even that I might not make it. Because no matter what happens now, I know I'm fully alive - and still learning and growing along the way.

There are so many 'ah-ha' moments happening on a regular basis - and each time this happens I now greet the experience with an inner chuckle. No more the "I should have known that!" type of response that I now realise was a constant fall-back. Nope, now my constant mantra is "thank you for helping me to accept this new thing" - whatever it is.

Last week provided me with a series of opportunities to realise something quite profound about how I'd been filtering opportunities. Last week, you see, I was shown immense kindness and love in some very different ways. And it suddenly dawned on me just how much of an issue it's been for me to accept this sort of kindness. I know, I know - it sounds a bit daft - but actually, despite all my best intentions, I've been utterly rubbish at letting people in. At allowing people to take care of me. At actually giving in and giving up to people who's only intention is to make me happy. I must have been a right royal pain in the backside to many who have tried to support and guide me over the years!

Because I suddenly realised that, whilst I honestly believed I was happy and content with Mike, in actual fact I was never once shown anywhere near the kindness and attention that I experienced from three very different friends just last week. For years I had accepted my relationship as something special. I had accepted the way we were as being the norm. I thought I was lucky, and despite what I now know was coldness, I believed I was happy, loved, and in love. Pah! What did I know? As I look back now I begin to wonder what on earth I thought I was doing during those years. The Pollyanna approach that I adopted so thoroughly had in fact blinded me to so much more. How could I not have known that the 'love' I was being shown was nothing but a figment of my imagination? And yet I truly thought I was happy - and I am still utterly certain that I experienced true love. But I now know it came from within me and was never reciprocated.

There's a great quote that says "We accept the love we think we deserve" and you know what? I've learned that on a subconscious level I clearly didn't think I deserved very much. I thought I had it all you see - whereas in fact I was squashed and misshapen. But I'd become very used to my prison, not knowing that there was so much more that was out there waiting for me!

No wonder the lesson had to be so shocking! No wonder my whole world had to crumble away in order for me to break free. One of my French friends says I'm "têtu comme un âne" (stubborn as a mule) and you know what? He's right. I held on stubbornly to my ideal that I was living the perfect life, refusing to consider that there could be something better. OK, I guess it's kind of understandable given my less than healthy experiences of 'love' during my formative years - but I had no comprehension that I had been actually denying myself so much for so long!

Which is why last week was such an eye-opener. Small things, but each one gently pushing the lessons home. On Sunday I was collected from the airport and treated to a home-made roast dinner. And I felt really uncomfortable that I was doing nothing to help - nope, my job was just to enjoy and accept. Hmmm... tricky that one... and my friend giggled at my clear discomfort at being looked after. Then on Tuesday I spent the day with another friend who insisted we ate at a top restaurant in Covent Garden, and then went on to enjoy a musical - it was magic, and we laughed and cried together in equal measures! And again I felt uncomfortable - surely I'm meant to reciprocate? Surely I'm the one who looks after other people? How weird did it feel actually being spoiled in such a way? Thursday night I was treated to an early surprise birthday by another friend. He'd bought Happy Birthday banners, and a birthday cake with candles stating I was 21 years old (bless him!) and again I felt embarrassed by the attention. And at the same time I absolutely loved it - all three of my dear friends were gently teaching me to accept kindness and love, with none of them expecting anything in return. Weird. Uncomfortable. New. And... you know what? I love it!

And the chuckles started and wouldn't stop - I've always sought love and affection, and yet I suddenly realised that I hadn't actually known how to accept it. But because these were three trusted friends, they refused to take no for an answer, and just laid it on me. Exactly in the way that so many of my friends have shown me love and support over these past few months at the time I've needed it most. In those times, I guess, I learned to accept because I had no option - I was in a horrid mess, and without their determined interventions, I may not have made it through.

But now, now that I've made it, I'm learning to accept unconditional love and support through the good times - and this, this my friends is a whole new experience. It seems to me that the snuggly warm feeling I finally have within me is now being reflected back to me by other people. And mark my words, I'm now open and receptive to all of it - although I may still struggle at times until I get used to it!

So thank you. Thank you to everyone who continues to be gracious to me, even when I'm being a bit defensive. I'm learning, you see, and as I said earlier on, I'm loving these lessons. THANK YOU!

Breaking The Silence

2010-12-03T01:43:00.000Z

Image via WikipediaIt's late, and I've just put the phone down after chatting with one of my longest-standing friends. A wonderful lady I have known for years. Our children grew up together. We share similar professional interests. We also share a particular bond that came to light last year. She was also married to a charming sociopath - for 20 years, so double my own sentence. In fact our husbands got to know each other and did their level best to break our strong bond of friendship. They succeeded for a while, but now we are closer than ever. Ironically it is the behaviour of our respective husbands that have made it possible. Since last year we have been able to share our stories. Compare our experiences. Help each other through the dark days. Encourage each other to notice some of the deeply ingrained responses we sometimes fall back in to as a habit, following years of deliberate conditioning. We know what it's like you see. We understand the pain and indignity. We can identify on levels that people who haven't been through such an experience couldn't possibly understand. We share this common bond of survivors of abuse - and at first, we thought that very few people would ever be able to empathise. We were wrong - and I'd like to explain what I mean. To respect her privacy, I'll call my friend Beatrix.

Towards the end of last year I read a powerful book called The Bigamist, written by best-selling author Mary Turner Thomson. Taken aback by the punch of her story about her marriage to a sociopath, together with the striking similarities in our backgrounds, I decided to introduce myself by email. She called me on my home phone less than three days later, and straight away we chatted with the ease of old friends, as though we'd known each other for years. Right from that very moment I felt the unspoken connection of recognition with her - she knew what it was like. She'd been there. I didn't have to explain. She instinctively knew, and though we didn't say it at the time, there was an instant bond created between us. Highly intelligent, sassy, accomplished, strong and certainly nobody's fool, Mary and I have since become firm friends - soul sisters who know what it's like to be deliberately targeted, deceived, manipulated and controlled. Soul sisters who knows how it feels to realise that what you thought was true and lasting love was nothing more than a sham. Soul sisters who understands the shame and indignity of having to face the truth - and convince friends and family that you haven't lost the plot.

Make no bones about it - escaping from a controlling or abusive relationship is difficult enough. Accepting the truth that you've been treated so badly is even harder. But having to explain what happened to other people is excruciatingly humiliating. Particularly when they will often need to question since, to all intent and purposes "he/she has always been such a lovely person! Surely there's some mistake!" Then there's the underlying implication that you must have been very gullible - stupid even - not to notice the signs. "If what you're telling me is true, then they must surely have been so obvious - how could you possibly not have known? Surely you must have realised something was wrong?" And so it goes on... It's exhausting, and each time becomes a public tar and feathering, as you are forced over and over again to explain exactly how you were so stupid to let somebody else put you in this position.

This is why there is an unspoken code of silence among the vast majority of people who have suffered through any kind of abusive relationship. Partners, parents, siblings, friends, bosses, colleagues - the list is endless, as are the stories and perceived seriousness of the abusers misdemeanors. But the pervasive feelings of disgust and self-hatred lodged deep within the victims is absolutely universal. Beatrix and I talk about this regularly - as do Mary and I, together with many other survivors I've met over the past twenty months. And it IS a code of silence. And along with the silence is the instinctive yet unspoken code of recognition whenever one survivor meets another. After just a few words, the nod of acknowledgement passes between us - sometimes without the need for any further discussion or admittance. We just know. And judging by the number of survivors I've met in my daily life since I became free, there must be millions of people who walk around in silent pain still bound by chains of humiliation and self-loathing.

Control and manipulation tactics are common strategies employed by abusers. Basic yet exceptionally powerful, this form of power play isolates people from the people who support them and undermines their confidence to the point where they can no longer think or act effectively. Believing they are the under-dog, the target is then no longer in control of their own life. The tactics used by abusers will vary depending on their experiences, their level of skill, their targets, and their focus. A corporate sociopath, for example, will typically be exceptionally well-versed in smooth language, subtle body gestures, and impeccable manners. A street thug is much more likely to use physical violence. Encounters with one may well leave you with bruises and perhaps broken bones. Encounters with either of them will leave you with a broken spirit and emotional scars that may never heal again.

When I was working as a Louise L Hay trainer in 1997/1998 I was always deeply touched by the expressions of guilt and shame that people would demonstrate as they bravely shared their stories of mistreatment, usually at the hands of another. Stories that, in some cases, had been kept hidden and secret for decades. And yet, finally telling the truth of what had happened was the easy bit - the hard bit was gently helping them to accept and forgive themselves for what had happened. Yes, you read right - the most difficult part would be helping them to find a way to forgive themselves. Not the other person or people, or even the situation - but themselves. To rid themselves of the shame and self-loathing for allowing such a thing to happen to them in the first place.

From my own experience, my first feelings of shame were when my sister and I were thrown out from our guardians when I was 18 and she was just 13. My uncle's treatment of us was absolutely appalling - but I felt that I'd somehow failed. To make matters worse, because my guardian was a well-respected, charming, highly intelligent and very successful professional man, nobody wanted to believe my account of events during the 22 months we lived there. It didn't matter that we'd done nothing wrong - far from it in fact. But, as with so many 'victims' I turned the anger and hatred in on myself. It took me many years to come to terms with what had happened and to finally forgive myself. This experience, as it turned out, has proved to be one of the most useful lessons I could ever have learned. Not only has it helped me to move others through these destructive patterns, it also helped me to explore my own deepest held beliefs and to heal fast and fully following the discovery of my husband's betrayals.

Back to my friend Beatrix, where I started this post. She is now reclaiming her life - but it's a long road. This is her first Christmas of freedom from a man who, to the outside world appeared charming, charismatic and witty - the life and soul of the party. You get the picture? Since escaping, Beatrix has forfeited a number of her friends who simply refuse to believe that this charming man could possibly be guilty of the monstrous things she has accused him of doing. These abusers can be very skilled you see, and though there may be no visible external injuries, the damage to self-esteem and self-belief can be severe and even life threatening - or worse in some cases. She told me what an important time Christmas has always been for her. How for more than 20 years she'd religiously do everything within her power to make the most of the festive season - and how, every year, her husband would religiously take great delight in destroying her. He'd criticise her for spending too much or too little. Complain about the tree being too big or too small. Whine about the fact that there were too many or too few parties and house visits organised that year. Constant verbal abuse, coupled with a Judas kiss or squeeze on the shoulder and the words "But you know I love you!"

This is why now, I'm so passionate about speaking out. Abuse of any kind is a killer. The silence is also a killer. It strangles people. Self-loathing eats away at confidence. It is malignant, oppressive and relentless - and in some cases it claims lives.

Don't get me wrong - I'm not asking people to speak out or share their stories in such a public arena as the manner I am choosing. I'm simply inviting those of you who have been there too - or who are still there - to know that you are not alone. You may be surprised by the number of people who are out here and who truly understand what you've been through. Like you, they may choose to stay silent. And that's ok. As I said earlier, the code of recognition is often a silent one - but at the very least it's a recognition. It's the knowledge and relief that at least one other person understands. And if you've kept it to yourself until then, well you'll have doubled your team in one fell swoop.

One small step, that's all it takes. One by one we'll find each other. One by one we can join hands until we reach around the world - maybe further. Together we can stand strong, and put an end to this destructive cycle of abuse and shame. I, for one, am determined to keep banging my drum and inviting others to join the band - because I know that together we can make the sweetest soul music as our voices sing out around the world!

The Night I Made A Deal With Dr Hannibal Lecter

2010-12-02T18:14:00.000Z

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It was nearing midnight on Thursday 9^th July 2009. It was a typically warm summer’s night that found me in my bed at home in France, distractedly checking through my emails on the iPhone for the umpteenth time. Anything to try and quieten my mind and bring me back to normality. I was mentally and physically exhausted but my tortured mind and aching soul refused to let me sleep. No matter how much I tried to rationalize the past ten weekss, or how much I attempted to make sense of the situation, I simply couldn’t find any answers. Peace seemed a very distant memory as I continued to search for clues. What had happened? Where had I gone so wrong? What had prompted my beloved husband of 10 years to lie to me for so long? Why did he need to create so many other lives? What had I done to make him stop loving me? How had I missed the signs? What could I have done differently? The questions circled, round and round my head like the mythological embittered Harpies – snatching at my rising fears, cackling at my confusion, their cruel wings fanning the flames of despair that threatened to engulf my soul.

I am a motivational coach and leadership trainer, co-founder of a successful and well-respected training consultancy, and over the past decade I have been lucky enough to work with leaders from some of the UK’s best-known companies. I am known for my ability to quickly get to the heart of the issue, employed for my skills in reading and understanding people, and constantly requested to come in and ‘fix’ problem teams. So how had I been so blind to my husband? We were a team, we worked together, lived together, loved together and had spent nearly every day and night in each other’s company since the day we met – and I loved him totally; heart, body and soul. Only last year we had celebrated our 10-year anniversary together, and just a couple of months later spent his 40^th birthday together on the beaches of a beautiful Caribbean health spa. Our life together, as I thought, was perfect!

And yet now, here I am, alone with my son in the beautiful French farmhouse we had lovingly restored over the past 6 years, betrayed and deserted by the person I truly believed was my soul mate, left alone to deal with the enormity of the emotional and financial wreckage caused by my husband’s double life. It had all happened so suddenly – the chance email just three months earlier that led me on a trail of discovery to uncover the horrifying truth that I was married to a stranger. Cold, hard, black and white proof that my idyllic life was in fact a total sham – and the equally cold hard fact that my husband had simply vanished out of our lives the second he knew he’d been rumbled, leaving my son and I to deal with the fall-out. Disappeared without a trace just as quickly as he’d arrived in our lives more than ten years earlier.

Around and around the questions turned in my head. The Harpies I had named “Who” “What” “Where” “When” and “How” mocking my stupidity, berating my gullibility, and piercing ever more deeply in to my already broken heart.

And then I saw it. It was an email from my dear friend Mandy, which pricked my interest. It was a kind and thoughtful message of support, the contents of which seemed harmless – but it was this very email that had me shaking to the core just a short while later.

“…Interestingly, you may or may not know that I am doing my masters degree in forensic psychology at the moment, and recently have done loads of work on sociopaths. Lets put it this way - Mike shows all the signs - in retrospect of course! So in fairness, he was highly skilled at fooling everyone. In fact, not just skilled - it was natural to him. Therefore, who would have known? He has no conscience. And before long, he will find another place for himself, and will never feel any remorse, because he doesn’t know how to…”

Sociopath was a term I had not come across before and so, after a quick scan for more information on the internet, I discovered that a sociopath is also known as a psychopath. My brows furrowed as disbelief and comprehension entered my head at the same time. So I asked the question out loud to see if it made a difference: “You mean to tell me that my husband, my Mike, is actually a PSYCHOPATH?” Chills ran through my body, my mouth went dry, and the Harpies were suddenly very still and very quiet.

Random images of famous psychopaths came flooding in to my head – Norman Bates from Psycho, Peter Sutcliffe the Yorkshire Ripper, America’s Ted Bundy and Heath Ledger as The Joker – the absurdity of the idea prompting nervous laughter to erupt from deep within me. And then silence again as I truly began to consider the enormity of this new information. The room was still. My mind was quiet. My heart started thumping loudly in my chest. Holding the iPhone in my left hand, cradling my mouth and chin with my right hand, I read yet another ‘checklist’ for sociopathy and realized with absolute clarity that Mike’s behaviours actually ticked each and every one of the boxes – to a tee. I shuddered, forcing myself to breathe, and blinking wildly, hoping that I had somehow misinterpreted the information.

And that was the precise moment when the archetypal psychopath, Dr Hannibal Lecter made his sudden and unwelcome appearance in my mind – crystal clear and standing just a few feet away from me in the corner of my bedroom. Sucking air through his teeth and smacking his lips, he held me hypnotized with his ice-cold beguiling stare, clearly enjoying my confusion as I quietly considered the overwhelming evidence that my estranged husband, the man I had loved with all my heart and soul, was in fact a text-book psychopath.

“But surely I’d know if I was in the company of someone like that?” I reasoned to myself, the dank smell of Hannibal’s cell now beginning to permeate my senses, his chains rattling my imagination. “But I’m an executive business coach! I’ve been working in the field of personal development for over 13 years! I’m wise to the ways of different personalities and what makes people tick!” I tried to rationalise, becoming more aware that my bewilderment was arousing the curiosity of my uninvited guest.

I was hooked. And as I read further, uncovering facts, examples of typical traits, and stories from other victims of a sociopathic relationship, I was gradually coming to the horrifying comprehension that my friend’s prognosis was correct – and the fact that I was not alone. There were literally thousands of women with stories just like mine. I allowed the weirdly reassuring feeling that I was not the only one to grow within me, gratefully confirming to myself that there were hundreds, thousands – perhaps millions – of other people just like me. Intelligent, professional, and successful women who had willingly succumbed, fallen in love, followed their dreams and been thwarted by the malevolent charms of the skilled and charismatic sociopath. Chillingly, as I now know, as much as 4% of the population (1% of females and 3% of males) are afflicted, yet remain undiagnosed, with what mental health officials refer to as “antisocial personality disorder” – or, to you and me, these are psychopaths who live, breath and feed among us. If you think (as I did) that this kind of thing could never happen to you, then think again.

Predominantly men, these people are charming, witty and attentive – the life and soul of the party. Men who can sweep you off your feet, make you believe that you are the most precious person in the world. Men who let you dare to dream that all your dreams have come true and convince you that you’ve found your true soul mate. Men who make you feel that anything is possible, and encourage you to live life to the full. Men who slowly and deliberately bleed you dry, suck out your soul and leave you for dead, without even a backwards glance – but by the time you realize this, of course, it’s too late. Much too late.

Suddenly I began to see things from a different angle. Suddenly things started to make sense. Dr Lecter, for now, faded safely back in to the darkness of my imagination, as I began to replace his image with strangely comforting feelings of relief. The deeper truth was dawning that the experience I was living, my own personal living nightmare, was not something I could have foretold. So I was not to blame for what had happened – there was nothing more I could have done. In fact, I’d had a lucky escape.

This was the beginning of my understanding about what had happened to me. How I’d found myself in such a horrific and unimaginable mess. After three long months, the hurricane of discovery that had all but broken me in its relentless force to destroy all that I had believed in was gradually beginning to loosen its grip in light of this new information.
I realized, with frightening clarity, that in order to truly understand what had happened, to come to terms with how I had come to find myself in such a nightmare situation, I was going to have to embark on a journey of self-discovery. I would need to find out more about what had happened to other people. Understand the true meaning behind the word sociopath, or psychopath. Recognise the traits within myself that allowed me to be the perfect target – dig deeply in to my own psyche and explore my own choices in life. Examine how I’d got here, what I’d believed about myself and others and my own deeply held personal values. And, most importantly, to find my strength and finally heal.
My years of experience in personal development told me it was not going to be an easy journey. Some of the deeply buried feelings and experiences of my past would need to be re-examined. I would need to dredge through parts of my life I thought I’d already dealt with. Old scars I thought I’d healed would need to be re-opened and treated anew. It would be painful. It would mean re-visiting old chapters of my life. Re-living the hurts of the past in order to truly understand what was going on. And I would also need to venture in to the depths of this new murky world I was beginning to discover. Stand in the shoes of these soulless people I now knew existed for real, and who live and work among us. People who have no conscience. Sham human beings who exist purely to win, who see other people merely as tools to be used and abused – and discarded once they are no longer of any value.
I was alerted to the sounds of Dr Lecter shuffling around in the back of my mind, his interest clearly intensified by my growing fear at what lay ahead. And I heard a barely perceptible laugh – or was it a cackle – coming from the darkest corners of my imagination. The unpalatable solution hit me like a steam train, and I understood at that moment that he would need to become an ally in my journey; for who better than the archetypal sociopath, Dr Hannibal Lecter himself to help me understand the twisted workings in the mind of a psychopath?

“If I help you, Melanie, it will be "turns" with us too. Quid pro quo. I tell you things, you tell me things. About yourself. Quid pro quo. Yes or no?” his perfect and calculated logic slithered towards me, the words and the consequences of what I was about to do sending shivers through my body. I would need to let Hannibal Lecter inside my head if ever I was going to become free.
This was my invitation. To myself, and within the safety of my own imagination – at least for the moment. It was the only way to regain my sanity and claim my life back. And, surely, this couldn’t be any worse than the real life experiences I had already survived? And so I nodded my silent agreement and the deal was done. I would allow the specter of Hannibal to steer me as I unravel the past and make sense of my pain. A smug sneer crept across Dr Lecter’s face, as he pulled himself upright and acknowledged my consent “Brave Melanie. You will tell me when those lambs stop screaming, won’t you?”
So this was the beginning of my recovery. I started preparing for my own personal voyage of soul-searching, education, self-questioning and personal discoveries right through to the eventual victory I knew was waiting for me. I’d have to return to the innocence I once knew, and in returning there I knew I’d have to face some ugly and painful memories. Rearrange them to make sense of what had happened, and to ensure that I would never again be taken in by anyone whose sole intention was to hurt me.

Hannibal fixed me with his steely eyes and held tightly to the bars in his cell “Clearly this new assignment is not your choice” he hissed “rather I suppose it is a part of the bargain but you accepted it Melanie. Your job is ultimately to craft my doom. So I am not sure how well I should wish you but I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun. So let’s start at the beginning – tell me everything you know”

With that his image once again faded away, and I truly felt that I had just made a deal with the devil. But at the same time, I knew that my journey to freedom had begun.

"They Know The Words, But Not The Music"

2010-12-01T17:05:00.000Z

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Well, now that I've started to share, I'm going for it. This is a diary entry I wrote this time last year. It brings back so many memories, and makes me so proud of just how far I've come since then. Oh, and by the way, I'm still intent on creating that band...

November 29, 2009

It’s Sunday evening and I’m pondering Robert Hare‘s book Without Conscience – a fascinating, and disturbing read that has given me even more proof that yes, I was indeed married to a text-book psychopath. It is said that these people, convincing though they are to so many, “know the words but not the music”. I like that analogy – it resonates with me on so many levels!

And I’m also still smarting from the insensitive comments from a relative who called me on Friday to find out (rather belatedly) what has been happening over the past seven months. During the conversation, I found myself justifying and explaining the situation, doing my best to overcome her blatant disbelief that I could find myself in such a dire predicament – almost as if I’d done it on purpose, and certainly implying that it was clearly my own stupid fault! Rather than find out how I was doing and whether I needed any help, she challenged me over and over again with the question “Surely, an intelligent woman with your positivity and get-up-and-go should have been able to see the signs?” And each time I explained that yes, with hindsight and a good understanding of what I had been dealing with, then yes indeed those signs were there. Well disguised, but there none the less – and I had been totally blind to them and deliberately blinded by him. I told her time and time again that a psychopath uses ruthlessly surgical precision to trap and bleed their targets dry. That there are many more women – much more intelligent and much more successful than I – who have also fallen prey to these creatures and who have been left in even more serious financial and emotional situations than where I find myself now!

And each time I have to explain the story, to do my best to convince people of the facts, I feel I’m once again reliving the horror and crazy emotions I lived with for the decade I was in the cold grip of my sociopath. And I am both astounded and horrified by the number of times I find myself in the situation where I need to justify what happened. You see, people just don’t believe me – either because they can’t accept that such people exist or, if they knew him and had seen him with me, because it would mean they’d have to admit they’d also been totally conned. So I listen to the objections, I keep my calm, and I answer their questions truthfully and in full. But let me tell you, at times I just want to bang my fists on the table and scream in their faces “Why can’t you see? It’s ME and my SON who are the victims here! Why don’t you believe me? Stop making it worse!”

Through his years of study, Dr Hare has uncovered overwhelming evidence that “tragically, these victims often cannot get other people to understand what they are going through” citing the situation faced by one such victim who says “…everyone, including my doctor and lawyer and my friends, blamed ME for the problem. He had them so convinced that he was a great guy and that I was going mad, I began to believe it myself…” and THIS is where the cycle of abuse has to stop. This is when my blood boils to read so many accounts of victims having to re-live their misery. So many people who can never end their sentence, even after escaping from their abuser. An abuser who, by the way, is left scot-free to move on to the next willing target – often with the support of the original victim’s so-called friends!

My experiences, and the accounts from others, remind me of the 1944 Hollywood film Gaslight where the husband (played by Charles Boyer) is convincing his loyal and unsuspecting wife (Ingrid Bergman) that she is losing the plot, when actually all along he is just using her to find hidden jewels belonging to her aunt – whom he had already murdered. The film makes such a lasting and shocking impression, that the expression “gaslighting“ has been adopted to mean “ruthlessly manipulating an individual, for nefarious reasons, into believing something other than the truth”. Sounds far-fetched? Well, it’s exactly how I have been feeling. And the relentless disbelief of others – sometimes even when faced with the stack of black and white evidence I've collected to prove my point – is absolutely exhausting. I feel like I'm on trial, over and over again.

Dr Hare, and others, talk about psychopaths “knowing the words but not the music” – or in other words, putting on a good show but having no heart or soul in the production – and for me, I find myself stuck in this repeating this pattern as I try to garner support from those very people who should, in my opinion, believe me in the first place.

I’m a strong, determined and accomplished woman, but even I am beginning to wonder whether there’s any escape from this cycle of abuse. Two very dear friends of mine have had similar experiences – one is getting herself out of a current situation, the other escaped over 20 years ago. Both are displaying the same legacy of self-doubt when giving their account of the facts – both, still, asking the same question “perhaps it IS me after all?”

Yet these are good, wholesome, innocent and truthful women, and this pattern HAS to stop. And I, for one, am going to speak up and speak out – loud and proud – and do everything within my power to create an orchestra to blast out the truth. Bring together a band of people, whose clear voices and blazing conviction will finally get others to sit up and take notice. Together we will move our audiences to tears, as we share our stories, as we sing of our battles, and we beat out a rhythm of defiance so passionate, so compelling, that friends, family and professionals alike finally understand our message. Let’s hope they join us and stand up against these monsters, finally giving support to the innocent victims. Innocent people whose only crime was to fall in love with the wrong person.

Together we can move mountains. Together we can create the kind of powerful soul music that psychopaths will never be able to understand.

So now – who is willing to stand up with me, bang their drum and create a revolution?

Empty Souls - Time For Me To Speak Out

2010-12-01T12:50:00.000Z

Image by Furryscaly via FlickrI'm about to open Pandora's box. I'm nervous. I'm excited. I've got the push-me-pull-me voices of reason and doubt working overtime inside my head. But I've decided to do it. I've purposely never spoken about this subject on my blog before now. But today I've decided to come out of the closet and write about something that is very close to my heart. Why today? Well, why not. It's the first day of December (my favourite month) it's snowing (the French countryside looks beautiful) and I've just read yet another article describing a set of people (this time a county council) as "empty souls with no empathy for their fellow human beings".

Each time I hear a comment like that, something deep within me resonates with recognition and anger. Because I know what they mean - I've been there. I know what it's like to stand and face an empty soul. Someone with no conscience. No compassion. No empathy. Someone who's only driver is that of winning. An empty shell who believes the law is for other people, and who thinks human beings are simply trinkets to be played with and thrown aside when they're no longer of any use. A soulless creature so skilled in the art of mirroring and deception that you simply don't know what you're dealing with - until it's too late. Because by that time you'll have been sucked dry, abandoned and left for dead. I'm talking about people we call sociopaths, or psychopaths.

Don’t be fooled by the Hollywood image – a sociopath is not someone you can pick out from the crowd. In fact 1 in 25 people are thought to have this particular personality disorder yet lead seemingly normal, in some cases glittering lives. Yes, these people are living, breathing and moving among us - right now. If you are reading this in a place where there are more than a handful of people around, then it’s probable that one is just a few feet away from you. But you wouldn’t know.

Charismatic, charming and often referred to as the life and soul of the party, these people are in fact ruthless predators who choose their targets with surgical precision. Their every move is calculated, as they mimic your deepest hopes and desires, their seeming success sweeping them along on a red-carpet of acceptance and adoration. If you are picked out as a target, you’ll feel loved and adored, the most precious person on the planet and you’ll willingly give them your heart and soul. Trust me - as I said, I've been there.

You’ll have little or no chance to see the truth until it’s too late… once they’ve bled you dry emotionally, mentally and financially. They'll do it right in front of your face - and you won't even realise what's happening. Once they've got what they want, or they've been rumbled, they’ll walk away without a backwards glance, leaving you dazed, confused, and trying to pick up the pieces of your broken life, while they trip happily on to their next willing victim.

Because these are not real people. They lack the one thing that makes the rest of us human – they have no conscience. They behave like machines under the convincing guise of a genuine and caring human being. And with automated exactness they will ensnare you, suck you dry, discard you like rubbish and then fire up and move on, confident in the knowledge that nobody will believe their victim’s story.

I am not a doctor or a scientist. I have not spent years studying this subject. But I did spend a decade living as the perfect prey for a ruthless sociopath, and I’ve spent the twenty months since my discovery learning all I can about this particular personality disorder and comparing notes with other targets who have survived. Their stories are scarily similar.

Life’s Little Lettuces so far has been about me. It's been about my own journey out of chaos. My attempts to explore how I got here and what made me such a typical target. It’s been my personal cathartic diary charting my voyage of self-discovery to ultimate truth and final freedom. I'm not saying I'm done with my discoveries - far from it. In fact in many ways I feel I've just begun! No, it's just that now, as from today, I'm going to bring a new angle in to my blog.

Because now I feel it’s time to stand up, speak out and fill in some of the gaps. To write about the often misunderstood subject of sociopathy and the emotional fallout from abusive relationships in more detail. To bring it all out in to the open. It's time for me to say out loud: "Yes, I know how it feels to be trapped in an abusive relationship! I have been sucked in and used by a charismatic sociopath - more than one in fact! But now I'm free and I know what it takes to get here!"

My hope is that by speaking out and sharing my experiences I can help support a few of the millions of people who have suffered from some sort of abuse in their lives. And for those who are still living under the shadow of cruelty or exploitation, perhaps I can add to the encouragement they need them to help them break away before it's too late.

Well... There you are. I've gone and done it now. I've opened Pandora's box... so now there's no going back...

The Love Stays With You

2010-11-30T16:35:00.000Z

Image by WorthingTheatres via FlickrRemember Ghost, that classic 1990 film with Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore? Well I've been thinking about it today, and in particular one line that Sam says to Molly. He'd just 'borrowed' Oda Mae's body (brilliantly played by Whoopi Goldberg) so they could say their last goodbyes, and as he's leaving her for the final time he tells her: "It's amazing, Molly. The love inside, you take it with you. See ya."

Well I woke up this morning knowing that for myself - but unlike Sam, I didn't have to die first! I woke up knowing that whatever feelings I've already experienced, they're mine to keep - I take them with me wherever I go and whatever I do. And you know what? I can choose which ones I'd like to remember and have with me on a daily basis. But somewhere along the line I'd forgotten that (sometimes I really do begin to think that I'm perhaps one of life's slower students!)

I had another dream you see (hmmm... perhaps my 'teachers' have decided it's easier to get the lessons through to me this way, since I'm less likely to argue or stubbornly dig my heels in when I'm asleep?) and once again it involved Mike. For months and months he's been nothing but a dim and distant memory - but he's been making regular nocturnal appearances over the past few days. And you know what? It's actually been incredibly useful and enlightening. Last night's episode has resulted in a huge 'ah-ha' moment for me. There was no malice in this dream. No fighting. No fear. No danger - none of the usual warning signs that show themselves when he appears in my dreams. No, this time there was only comfort. We were in the huge sitting-room at the place I had lived in as a child, both lying together on a sofa that belonged to my mum. Yup - pretty symbolic! Anyway, I was listening to his voice and feeling his heartbeat next to mine. I knew what had happened in the real world, and that what I was experiencing was just a dream. I knew I was not to let him in, and I also knew at the same time that there was something to learn. So I became curious, and dropped the barriers.

All of a sudden I was enveloped by this amazing sense of safety. That feeling of being looked after, of knowing that all is well and that all will always be well - and it felt great. (Even though I was asleep, I'm sure my smile would have been seen by anybody who had been sharing my bed at that moment! Sadly, there were only the cats - and to the best of my knowledge, they can't talk in that way...) Then just as suddenly I found myself sitting in the passenger seat of the car we used to drive - a huge black Mitsubishi which, as Mike justified, was necessary to carry around our training equipment... yeah right, I won't even go there. Anyway, it was summer and we were parked outside the office of one of our clients, and I was just opening the door. We were both booked in for a coaching day, and I got out of the car beaming and brimming with confidence - something that in recent months has not come naturally to me. No, it's been a constant and conscious shift of personal determination to recapture that feeling of confidence. I've done it, of course, and achieved great feedback as a result. But it's been a conscious effort rather than a natural flow.

In the dream I realised that, along with many other things, I used to feel safety all the time I was with Mike. In fact, I now understand that I depended on him to give me those feelings! There were two of us, you see... two of us who were both very skilled at what we do (although his skills originated from a completely alien intent and purpose as we now know) who loved each other and who were together through thick and thin. He would always squeeze my shoulder or my hand to let me know we were doing well (or to remind me of his control?) and I would happily walk in to any given situation knowing that we'd get a positive result. In my dream I felt those feelings all over again - and it felt good, really good. Even though I knew those feelings had originated from my being with Mike, I suddenly realised the point I'd been missing. My smile widened, and as I relaxed more in to those feelings, I was suddenly back on my mum's sofa - but this time I was alone. It didn't matter. Because the sensation stayed with me - and the lesson was learned.

Yes, it's true, I now know that in the 'olden days' I was unwittingly giving my power away to him. I believed that I felt the safety because of him. What I now realise, is that in actual fact I was able to feel the feelings through him not because of him. Much like the episode in the summer at the Reggae festival, when I could so clearly identify that the love I was feeling was through Stuart and not because of him. Too much emphasis had been put on what Mike brought to me, how he made me feel (even writing that now makes me giggle and let out a great big Homer-style "doh!") and how much I loved him as a result.

But you know what? I was wrong. Because in actual fact it doesn't matter a jot what happened afterwards - in either of those situations, nor any others come to think of it. The fact remains that I had those feelings. Those were genuine emotions that were mine to experience and remain mine to keep. Regardless of whether anyone else is here with me or not - and regardless of, in Mike's case, how false those situations were in the first place. It doesn't matter! He doesn't matter! Nothing 'matters' apart from the fact that in those particular moments I felt safe and secure - and it had nothing whatsoever to do with the person who was with me at the time.

People talk about losses and will use phrases such as "never being able to find someone who'll make me feel like that again!" and I confess that I've also fallen in to that trap myself. For years I mourned the loss of my parents and other people who'd either died or moved out of my life - thinking, wrongly, that the good memories I had of them could never be replicated. But today I've realised that I was mistaken - more so than I've understood until now.

Because today I've realised that the feelings stay with us... forever. Yes, forever - and they're at our disposal any time we choose, so we can dust them off, take them out and experience them whenever we like and as often as we like. Because those experiences were felt through the person or people who enabled us to have them in the first place and not because of them. For me, they were simply mirroring something that I chose to feel inside, something I chose to accept. And I believe the real connection was made with something much bigger and stronger than me - so even though that person I was with at the time may no longer be around, or may have turned out to be something I hadn't expected, the experience is always with me because that over-riding energy from which those feelings come remain with me all of the time, ready to deliver again and again whenever I ask.

So, this morning I awoke with a huge grin on my face, feeling grounded and secure - more so than I can remember for many many months. And I knew that another wonderful gift had been given to me. The gift of knowing that every emotion I have ever had is always mine to keep. I can experience them any time I choose - not just as a memory but right here, in the here and now. You see they're all right here in front of me - just like the clothes in my wardrobe. I get to pick which ones I'd like to wear. I can pack away the ones I don't like, and I can care for the ones that give me a lift. I don't have to use all of them all of the time, and I'm sure my choices will change with the seasons. I'm also certain that my emotional wardrobe will continue to expand - now, though, I'll be conscious about choosing only the best quality clothing that suits me.

Even though Mike had gone, I kept that feeling of safety in the dream - and when I awoke - so now I have the confidence and knowing that whatever I've liked about my experiences so far I can recall and wear for today. As a real thing, not as a memory of something lost. Because they've never been lost at all - they've always been inside of me. As I've said before, I had just been looking outside myself to replace them, mistakenly thinking that they'd gone forever.

The word 'remember', according to Neale Donald Walshe, can be broken down and deciphered as 're-member' - or put another way, the process of re-joining with who and what we really are. My oh my, the mysteries of life are really so very simple aren't they? Like I said, I sometimes think I really must be a particularly thick student....

All Change - Or Is It?

2010-11-29T12:36:00.000Z

Image by AlicePopkorn via FlickrCall me a victim of media manipulation, a saddo, one of those weak willed women enticed in to Cowell's Coven, but I love so many things about the X-Factor that I refuse to boycott it - even though, yes, it's become a farce in so many ways. And one of the reasons why I love it is hammered home to me as I watch and re-watch Matt Cardle's haunting rendition of Roberta Flack's classic song "The First Time". This, remember, is a song written for a woman. The pitch is specifically chosen to suit a female voice. The words are crafted to describe the singer's feelings in relation to a man. So, to all intents and purposes, it would appear that this classic song occupied a very special and very unmovable place in music. Until now. Until talented male contestant Matt Cardle came along and showed the 13 million-plus viewing audience that, actually, there was another way. That the song could be a different shape and occupy a very different place. That it had the power to reach and move a wider audience than the original composer could ever possibly have imagined. This is the kind of thing that gives me goosebumps! This, surely, is what life's about! Because this is growth. This is expansion. This is the very thing that many people often refer to as 'change'....

Change, though, is a word that I now choose to avoid as much as possible. Because for me, I'd prefer to give a different sense to this very natural process of life. I now consciously refer to change as an opportunity to explore more of what already is. An invitation to push through imagined limitations. To seek new grounds. And to find the courage to embrace and accept all of it in its entirety.

Change, you see, is a word that frightens so many people. No matter which way you look at it, the word implies failure, because it means that something is wrong, was wrong or is going to be wrong. Think about it. Why else would anyone be asking us to change anything? Because something isn't right! Is it any wonder, therefore, that people shy away when invited to make a change?

How many times have I heard board directors boast about "a new change initiative! Something that's really going to make things different around here!" And then they wonder why people back away from it at the first opportunity, instead of jumping up and embracing it with both hands - eager to make the changes happen for themselves? People don't like change - and for those of us who have been through any period of personal change, we know that it's painful. Yes, even though we might feel stronger or wiser as a result, the process can be quite simply horrid. So when bosses tell their teams that things are going to change, there's the potential of a double-whammy negative response from the very people they'd hoped to inspire! There's the sense that, by definition, they're currently doing something wrong; and for those who've experienced any personal change, there's the absolute certainty that this is going to hurt!

Imagine the different response leaders could probably expect from their teams if, when they have ideas about how things can improve, rather than announcing these ideas as "a new initiative" or "new ideas for change" they instead chose to refer to them as "exploring the power we already have within us as a team!" The chance to "shine" and to "do more of the good stuff" to "nurture what we're already doing well, find any cobwebs that might be clogging the system, and define how we're going to move forward from here?"

In my experience, people respond much better to praise and encouragement than to any expectation of change. I can be a funny creature when it comes to language, as those who know me will testify. For it's the everyday words people use that give me an insight as to where they're at in terms of living the life they say they choose - and the progress that can be made just through shifting a couple of specific words can be astounding!

So I know the effect that well thought through phrases can have in the workplace. I've seen a coaching client finally find the strength to voice his opinions about a project that was going disastrously wrong - simply by changing his every-day language from third person to first person. He had been continually referring to himself as "you" and, therefore, giving away his power. By helping this man to shift his language, he re-connected with his self-belief, and found the courage to speak out. As a result of his actions, the company reversed some bad business decisions and brought the project back on track. The result? Massive cost savings, and respect and recognition for my client.

People don't like change. People do like growth and encouragement. They do like the idea they can do something to become more or do more with their life. And, in the main, people also like watching other people develop - hence the clever concept behind X-Factor and so many other real-life TV competitions. How many times have we heard comments on these programmes: "he's really developed" "she's come out of herself over the past two weeks" "I was feeling frightened at first, now I'm much more confident!" These are all observations that prove a change has happened - where people have achieved and become more than they might previously have thought possible. And these people go through this process in front of millions of viewers. Viewers who, on the whole, feel equally inspired, connected and delighted by the progress of a contestant who was, after all, just an ordinary person before the show. So... change can happen in front of our eyes, and we can feel lifted by the feel-good factor during the process.

If the original headline invitation, however, was to apply for a programme that required you to make changes, would they have attracted the huge numbers of applicants needed for the show? I think not. So, please let's stop parading 'change' as a good thing, or something to which we should aspire. Change is merely a vehicle - it's certainly not a destination, and it's far from being a motivator! It's all about re-adjusting perspectives, that's all...

Speaking of which, I heard a wonderful story the other day. It concerns a little girl in an art class at school. The teacher came over to her and asked her what she was painting. "I'm painting a picture of God!" replied the child. The teacher looked surprised "But nobody knows what God looks like!" she exclaimed. The little girl carried on painting, and simply smiled "Well, they will once I've finished my picture!"

Slippery Little Suckers

2010-11-24T13:40:00.000Z

Image by xJasonRogersx via FlickrSo here it is. Just when I thought I'd surely got to the bottom of things and found out all there was to know about myself... well along comes another hidden driver that had been hiding away for all those years. Something that has been ruling my life in a way I simply did not recognise. Something that, I now believe, is dissolving - because I've found it you see. I've acknowledged it. Finally I noticed what was there - something that for years has been asking for acceptance and was doing everything it could to get my attention.

So what am I referring to? What am I talking about? Well, tons of stuff has written about this subject, and there are many different opinions and labels for the thing I'm talking about, which is, essentially, a deeply held pattern or belief that drives the way we act. Some people talk about unconscious beliefs. Some speak of childhood patterning. Others mention karma. Others still tell us about previous life experiences that follow us in order to be cleared. Me? I'm choosing to call them parts of ourselves that have been longing for acceptance. Parts of ourselves that are so deeply engrained in our psyche that we don't even stop to think about them - or the effect they have on our experiences. Until they finally cause us to sit up and take notice. I call that healing.

It's like this you see. As you already know, the past 18-plus months have been a time of reflection and growth for me. Relentless shocks, setbacks and tests that have pushed me to become more than I was before. Experiences which, now, I can totally accept as gifts. I may not have had any conscious control over what was happening to me, but I sure had conscious control over how I chose to respond. I could either sink or swim. Give up or get up. They say that whatever doesn't kill us makes us stronger - well, I sure am lots stronger than I've ever been before. And calmer. More peaceful. More understanding. So, you see, I got my wish - to grow as a person. To become all I could possibly be. I guess that perhaps, though, I've just been one of those particularly stubborn and wise-cracking students who can only learn these things the hard way eh?

Anyway, so all that said and done, it hit me really hard this week to discover I felt down and depressed. Yes, I've been working myself hard - and it's paying off. Yes, I'm still fighting battles - and slowly winning the war. And yes, as a result I've achieved a colossal amount over the past few months. So, OK, yes, it would be perfectly acceptable for me to feel tired. But this was more than tired. I felt absolutely exhausted. Physically, emotionally and spiritually.

So when I received some less than positive news at the beginning of the week, I found myself spiraling out of control and in to self-doubt. Blurred focus, nagging voices in my head, and the overwhelming feeling that I just wasn't good enough. That I was about to be found out as a fraud. That despite my best intentions I just couldn't hack it. That people were laughing at me behind my back. And anyway, who did I think I was kidding?

During coaching sessions I talk regularly about pushing comfort zones. Encouraging people to move out of the familiar and in to stretch - but rather than stretch, it seemed I'd moved myself in to total panic! I knew I was in a mess, and I also knew this wasn't "me" - that all these thoughts were delusional, unfounded and totally unwarranted. But I sure as heck felt trapped and worthless - even after everything I've already achieved! So something had to be done.

First of all I went down my normal tried and tested route. I pulled myself back and away from the situation, found a change of scenery and started noting all the good things I've achieved. Work is piling in - check. Last week I facilitated two life-changing coaching sessions - check. My status in France is now confirmed - check. I am surrounded by wonderful friends and family who I love and who love me - check. I have a beautiful home - check. I'm looking and feeling pretty good - check. Yup. Did all of that and more, but still I felt drained, useless, and very teary. So what was that all about then?

I knew that somehow, somewhere, I was being given another gift. Another opportunity was presenting itself to me so that I could grow, although it didn't feel much like a gift at the time. I joke sometimes that I'm fed up with all this character building rubbish, and wouldn't it be better to just live my life asleep and unaware? Hell no! This is my choice, and on a soul level I know I'm lucky to have these opportunities.

So I let the tears fall. I let myself feel rotten. I allowed the feelings of despair to pass through my system - without judgement or resistance - and I knew the answer would come. And it did. This time the answer came through my dreams.

I dreamed that I was being offered a precious and ancient gift - funnily enough it was a small glass bottle of perfume (those who know me will tell you about my addiction to lovely smells!). Amber coloured, with beautifully clean lines, the bottle had a simply shaped old-fashioned stopper that perfectly echoed its rounded form. It was offered to me time after time, yet each time I went to take the gift, something went wrong. Either I couldn't open the lid, or the perfume had gone off, or I would drop the bottle. And each time I felt myself getting more and more frustrated, and heard myself apologising for not being able to accept what was being offered to me. And each time that happened I imagined Mike's face grinning at me - grimacing, actually, is a more apt description. Like some kind of malevolent energy, I began to feel his presence wrapping around me, pretending to give warmth but instead choking the life out of my body until I could hardly breath. And then all of a sudden I decided to stop apologising. Forcing a huge breath in to my body, and drawing myself up to my full height, I found my power and screamed out at the top of my voice "NO! I'm not taking this any more! It's NOT my fault! I'm INNOCENT!" And all of a sudden the darkness subsided and instead I was bathed in light - and in that very moment I knew I'd broken the spell.

In the shower the following morning, I noticed that I felt somehow different. Freer than before. Lighter. As though a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Standing under the hot running water, I looked up to the ceiling and asked myself what had happened. That's when it all made sense, and I burst out laughing. Guilt. That's what it had been. Guilt. Nothing more, nothing less, but a pattern of guilt I'd carried with me for more years than I care to remember. And as I thought about it more, I saw my life experiences flashing before me - all the times when I'd thought something had been my fault. Times when I'd admonished myself for making mistakes, for failing to put things right - for failing to save the people I love, including myself. I realised that at some level I felt guilty about my father's death. Guilt that I had survived. Guilt that I resented the birth of my sister. Guilt that as a result of my failure I had also lost my mother and failed to look after my sister. Guilt, even, about the way in which I was born - with my arm wrapped around my head, making it a very painful process for my mother. Guilt about some big things as well as some totally minor things - for all these things, being the first to hold my hand up and admit to something that was never my fault in the first place!

I remember one such situation a few years ago while I was on holiday in the Dominican Republic. We'd gone there for Christmas, and I was part of a jolly crowd of people enjoying the Christmas festivities. In my usual enthusiastic way, I'd put my drink down on one of the big glass tables a little too heavily than was necessary. The table smashed in to tiny pieces with an almighty crash. So what did I do? I immediately stood up, waved my hands in the air and shouted out "I did it! It's OK! It's my fault! I'll pay! Let me make it better!"

And you know what? Pay I have, through my own personal guilt-trip. Time and time and time again. For all those episodes where I've assumed responsibility. Far too much and for far too long.

Slippery little suckers, these unconscious belief patterns. They're with us and around us all the time - like the air we breath - but until we notice them, they have more power over our lives than we can imagine. So, having acknowledged this unconscious guilt pattern as a living breathing part of me, I did some research as to how this belief can manifest itself. I found references to people suffering from an unconscious need for punishment (hmmm) as well as feeling responsible for the emotional and physical well-being of everyone else. The drive to make things right, to put others first, to heal the world and to make amends. Because, after all, it's all my fault - isn't it? The more I researched, the more boxes I ticked - and the more my smile widened. Ha! Gotcha! I see you - and you see me. And, right in front of me, the guilt dissolved, and we both gave a sigh of relief. It had been accepted, and forgiven. And in it's place stands innocence - something I thought I might never feel again. Another gift - more valuable than anything money can buy. And it's mine to keep - thank you.

I went back and reviewed the less than positive news from a new perspective. And I realised it wasn't my fault. Whereas my fall-back position has often been "what could I have done differently here?" it suddenly became clear that the issue laid not with me, but with something outside of my control. I had already done more than enough, so I responded with strength and kindness. And the situation was dissolved - right then and there.

Now I have even more flexibility. Now, yes, I can still ask myself the often healthy question "what could I have done differently here?" and I can also take a step back to ask myself whether it really is something to do with me - or whether, perhaps, it's nothing to do with me at all. Now I know that I'll recognise the difference.

I thought I'd done it all. I thought I'd come just about as far as I could. I thought I was doing really well. And you know what? I have been doing really well - and I still am. I shall continue to take responsibility for my actions, and for the way my life is unfolding. Now, though, I can accept that precious gift of perfume in the way it was intended - with innocence and love.

Lessons From The Men I've Loved

2010-11-09T00:17:00.000Z

Image via WikipediaWell here it is - and here I am. More learns, more growth, more emotions and more questions - some helpful, others less so. Some warming, others painful. All, none the less, useful lessons resulting in unquestionable personal growth. So, in the shower a couple of days ago, I decided to think about all the lessons I've learned from the men I've loved - whether as friends, family or lovers - because I'm realising that some of my deepest learns have resulted from some sort of relationship with the opposite sex.

Let’s start with the earliest male influence in my life – that of my father. Whenever I was around my Daddy I felt totally loved and adored. And I, in turn loved him back completely and utterly. He always told me that anything is possible, and through him I believed in magic. After all, wasn't he the person who could build a plane out of bits of wood, paper, glue and paint, and make it fly... with a real engine? He taught me how to play and how to fight as well "you must always know how to stand up for yourself" he'd say to me. We would walk together, laugh together and sometimes cry together – and I knew he’d always be my world. So when he died so suddenly when I was just four years old I learned some profound lessons. Some of which have been helpful, others not so – all of which have certainly had an influence on the way my life has unfolded since then.

The helpful lessons include these specific ones I still hold dear, which are that anything is possible, there is such a thing as magic, and that dreams really do come true. These remain some of my guiding values and, rightly or wrongly, have keep me going through many of the darkest periods of my life.

One of the not so helpful and equally influential lessons – a subconscious one I’m still unravelling – was the belief that I wasn't good enough for him. That quite clearly he didn't love me enough, because if he did surely he would never have left me? I learned what it means to feel abandoned, afraid and alone; and as a consequence I learned to keep my distance from anyone who might start to mean too much to me. I also learned to keep myself locked away so that I could never be hurt like that again.

My less than positive lessons were compounded twelve years later by the treatment received from my guardian – an uncle, by blood not marriage. It was while I was under his roof that I learned it was safer to please than to speak out – better to fit in, to be a good girl, to do everything I possibly could to make my guardians' lives easier and make myself invisible. I believed that if I could do that successfully, then perhaps I would be able to maintain the unstable home he and his wife were providing for both me and my little sister after the death of our mother. I’d seen the way he treated his wife. I’d witnessed his cold behaviour towards his small children, together with the endless jibes and gossip about his friends and family behind their backs. I understood the threatening uncertainty of our predicament and knew I had to keep both of us safe and away from his radar.

But in the end my best wasn’t enough and I couldn't save the situation. I couldn't win his heart and we were both thrown out despite my best efforts to placate. And so another lesson was compounded – that once again I hadn’t been ‘good enough’. This time, though, I'd not only let myself down, I'd let my sister down as well because I'd failed to keep her safe. And on top of that I must surely be a very bad person to deserve this treatment. Again, a deeply engrained lesson that has clearly been behind some of my less than healthy life choices since then.

Fending for myself at a relatively early age made me toughen up in a way that many of my female friends had yet to discover. So rather than having close girlfriends, I tended to have a collection of close male friends. I found them straight forward, straight talking, and fun to be with. I found I could be myself with them, and felt chuffed when they called me 'an honorary bloke'. I learned a great deal about their approach to life, and being in their company strengthened the male side in me - something, I'm sure, that has encouraged me to be so driven in business. So determined to carve my own path and make a name for myself. These, I believe, were all good lessons. Perhaps, though, there was a fall-out as well. Perhaps I neglected my feminine side as a result. My instinctive, nurturing side.

Oh, sure I could be nurturing to others - but not to myself. You see, I'd learned from the men in my life to stay strong - an approach that served me well at the time. If I hadn't been strong during my teens and twenties, then surely I would have broken down in to tiny pieces. So I learned how to become driven and focused. To believe that I was invincible so that I could deal with any situation. I would be the first to stand up against any injustice that had been suffered by another. I would put my neck on the line time and time again for those I believed had been wronged or misjudged. Because I knew I was strong enough to handle anything - look at what I'd already survived? On top of that, for much of my life I believed that I had a point to prove - that if I kept myself together and could prove that I was a good and worthwhile girl, well then perhaps, just perhaps, maybe one day I would no longer be a bad person and might be loved for just being me.
The change happened with the birth of my son when I was 30 years old. All of a sudden I started to consider that perhaps I was already good enough - in fact, perhaps I always had been. Through him I learned the meaning of unconditional love. I was enchanted and intoxicated by the exquisite and sometimes overwhelming feelings of gratitude and love I felt for this small defenseless person who utterly depended on me - and who absolutely trusted me to provide whatever he needed. And through my love for him, I finally realised for sure that my father would never have left me on purpose. I also began to understand that I had been holding on to a series of unhelpful subconscious beliefs that had shaped my life in to some less than positive twists and turns. So I embarked on my quest to consciously re-shape my life - a journey that is still continuing. I became a dedicated student of self-development and self-discovery in a bid to help me unravel the harmful lessons I'd absorbed through my earlier life.
Paradoxically, I was the strongest I'd ever been - emotionally, spiritually and physically - when I met Mike nearly three years later. At the top of my personal game, it never occurred to me that he was anything other than who he professed to be. Through my relationship with him I learned about commitment, contentment and the fulfillment of my life's dream - to be accepted and adored for who I was.
Despite the fact that since then I've discovered the grisly truth about him, those experiences are still mine to keep. Despite the fact that my feelings were never reciprocated, it doesn't matter a jot. I'm proud and grateful for those feelings. Because I felt them myself... honestly, willingly and with all of me. And I loved those feelings. And through what's happened since I discovered the truth, I have learned for certain that I am a good person. That I am enough. Because even though I could have crumbled as a result of his deceit, instead I've been able to draw on my strength and positive determination and I've pulled myself and Dylan through. On top of that I've grown further in the process - and am continuing to grow on a daily basis! So, as I've said before, I'm thankful for the deeply cleansing qualities of the whole ten-plus years he was an influence on my experiences. How on earth could I choose to feel anything else but gratitude?
And the most recent lessons from a man I've loved? Well, Stuart has shown me the depth and breadth of the lessons I've been learning - and I know for sure that through our relationship, some old and deeply engrained patterns have shown themselves to have been finally shifted. I'm confident that those lessons are well and truly learned and absorbed - and there is no need for me to experience them ever again, at any level. And as for the thunderbolt of love I described at the summer festival? It remains with me to this day and is mine to keep for ever. Because, as I said at the time, it came from something bigger than the both of us, and stirred something deep within me that had not been reached before - at least, not on a conscious level. The power and innocence of that love meant I could love safely with Stuart - deeply and honestly. And at the same time be authentic to myself - something I'd failed to do previously in countless other relationships, be it with friends, family or lovers. So thank you, my Chevalier, for helping me on so many levels that will positively shape my life going forward. Thank you also for an on-going friendship that I know will stand the test of time.

And now… now… I have a sneaking feeling I may have found a new teacher to take over from all the male influences in my life. Someone who has been there all the time, but who has been waiting in the wings. Or, put another way, perhaps someone who I'd refused to acknowledge. This person, though, is someone who will never leave me - someone who has never left me. Someone who cannot let me down, and who understands me completely. Someone who is absolutely with me, on my side, and will do everything within their power to make sure I live my life to the full, and fulfill or exceed all of my dreams.
So who is this person? Well, it may come as no surprise to learn that this person is me. Yes, little old me – Mel Pledger. Here it is, and here I am. And I'm now very happy to announce to anyone who cares to listen, that I’m in once again in a committed and deeply loving relationship. But this time, it’s with myself. And right now, that’s the most important relationship in the world.

White Heat And The Stranger Within

2010-10-31T11:23:00.000Z

Image by DerrickT via FlickrToday I've woken up to find I'm a stranger to myself. I have the same body - the same arms, the same legs, the same face - but I'm a stranger inside. I'm a different person from the Mel I knew yesterday - today I simply don't know who I am, but that's no bad thing. You see, it's been another of those life-changing weeks... well, actually, the past few weeks have all had something pretty big happening to be fair. This one, though, well it heralds the end of another chapter and the beginning of a new route. Two major events have prompted me to reconsider where I'm at and where I'm going.
The first was earlier on in the week in Edinburgh. Because I saw him. Yes, him, my estranged husband. The person who prompted me to start this blog in the first place. He didn't see me, but I saw him. From a distance, but it was him. The last time I saw him was in April last year when I dropped him off at the airport. At that time I had no idea what I was dealing with, and we had parted with an embrace, a wave and a "See you at the end of the week!" Just three days later I discovered the truth, and I have neither seen or spoken to him since.
So, whilst in Edinburgh - where he is still living - I was a tad nervous about bumping in to him. But I had no need to worry. Chance had decided that our paths wouldn't cross - and so I made my own luck and sought him out for myself. I knew it was just something I had to do. Something that would help to heal one more part of the pain. I had no idea how I might feel, or what reaction I might have to seeing him - so I made certain to keep my distance from the place I knew I'd find him. And there he was. I saw him.
The intensity of my response took me quite by surprise. The white flame of passion roared loudly as it coursed through my body. Starting at my solar plexus, and shooting skyward with such an extreme force it nearly knocked me off my feet. So what was this passion that so quickly overtook me from nowhere? Love? Pain? Fear? No. It was something I've never quite felt on that level before. It was fury - pure, white fury that burned right through me with the intensity and speed of a magnesium flame. The shock of it made me stand up straight and tall, catching my breath as the heat of it burned away more of the old scars that I've been holding on to. I was both rooted to the spot and also shooting up to the sky. Quite extraordinary. And that was it. That was all I had needed to do. Nothing more, nothing less. So I walked away. And, as with many other deeply emotional experiences this year, Stuart was right by my side.
Which leads me nicely on to the second major event of the week - much more recent, and much more raw, this one also came from nowhere and has rocked my world with more intensity than I had expected.
Stuart and I have broken off our relationship and returned to being friends - deeply connected friends, but just friends. We knew from the start that our relationship was based on a long-term friendship, and have always only committed to total honesty with each other - nothing more, nothing less. And through this honest and loving relationship, we have both grown. But the realisation came that we were not ready to continue the way we have been heading - a case of too much too soon, with far too much healing still needed. A good thing. A wise decision. The best way forward. So that, in itself, is no surprise - not really.
No, the surprise this time is the roar of conscious awakening that is coursing through my soul. It's ferocity is really quite overwhelming - and once again I can feel myself being released from yet another burden. And yet I'm sad. Very sad. But the tears I'm crying are not for the breakup of a relationship. No, they're to do with something much deeper than that - although I can't quite put my finger on it. Then again, it doesn't matter. I've learned this lesson over the past 18 months or so. Emotions are not logical - and it rarely makes any difference to trace back to their origin. In fact often that approach can be damaging. So instead I'm just letting them come and I'm breathing through them, knowing this is just another stepping stone along the pathway of my wonderfully colourful life.
I have learned this week about keeping my boundaries. About standing up for myself. About speaking up when something isn't right. And I've also learned that, despite myself, I have been pretty lax about keeping my boundaries clear. Too focused on healing the world rather than looking after myself. Too swift to brush aside small things that have upset me, rather than stand strong and face them. Too willing to believe I'm strong enough to take on the world. Because you see I'm not - and why on earth should I be? Who said I had to be super-human? Nobody else but me. And today I've realised that I don't need to be super-human, and nor do I want to be any more. No. I am little old me. Mel Pledger. A 45 year old mother who's already experienced a pretty extraordinary life, and who intends to continue living with passion and authenticity - whatever happens. And so that's why today I am a stranger. I'm waking up to a new identity. Reaching within myself with honesty and kindness to discover a wealth of quiet areas I can explore. Being gentle on myself, and looking after myself - because if I don't, then how in the world can I expect anybody else to do the same?

Mel's World - Out Of The Wilderness

2010-10-12T20:18:00.001+01:00

Image by Hamed Saber via FlickrThese days I'm finding it practically impossible to call back the darkness of the past 18 months. Yes, I can remember the horrors, I can recall the pain, I can bring to mind the endless sense of wading through treacle in my efforts to overcome the countless hurdles that rose up in front of me. But I can no longer make any true association with those times. I can no longer feel the experience as being anything to do with 'me'... because I've moved on so far, so deeply, so sincerely, and so completely, that those experiences are now nothing but a memory.
And although I no longer have a full sense of it - thank goodness - through it all I've certainly grown. And this time I've grown and learned properly. Once and for all. Those experiences have probably taught me more over 18 relatively short months than I've learned during my entire 45 years on this planet. And as you know, I've hardly been short of, shall we say, 'learning opportunities' along the way!
It was a few short weeks ago that I was enjoying an evening dinner filled with fun and laughter with my friends Peter and Alison that the term "Mel's World" was coined. Peter had said, in his typically ebullient manner "Mel's World - I love it. What a great place that must be!" And you know what? He's right. Because my world now is full of love. Full of fun. Full of opportunities. And at the same time it's calm, peaceful, safe and satisfying. In more ways than I could have possibly imagined just a short time ago.
These days, it seems, I'm truly living 'in the flow' and I feel at one with the world - and with myself and also those around me. Opportunities keep presenting themselves. Key people keep appearing in my pathway - teachers, friends, business associates, and positive influencers. And I am able, with every opportunity, to make good use of what's in front of me - to the point now where my days are filled with openings, beginnings, possibilities and, most importantly, the chance to live my life as I'd always dreamed. I can live here in my beautiful French home, content in the knowledge that projects are continuing to show themselves, enabling me to use my skills and experiences for the bettering of myself and others. I can work to a timetable that suits me. I can allow myself time to relax, as well as time to focus and really get things done. I can work with people who inspire me, and in turn can work to inspire others on more levels than I'd previously been able to reach.
During my wilderness months, though, the picture couldn't have been more different. There may or may not have been more opportunities opening up for me during that time that I just didn't see - I don't know. But what I now know for certain that, whatever the case, I was in no state to receive them fully. For instead of finding the peace and calm I sought so desperately, I've come to understand that in fact I would regularly found myself flummoxed by my own repetitive self-sabotaging behaviour. Thoughts, words or deeds - all of them subconsciously ruining things despite my best conscious efforts to stay positive. This is tough to admit, and tough to write - but I am doing this for a good cause. To write honestly about what I'm learning - warts and all - in my intention to help others by sharing my own experiences.
I have been involved in many ridiculously toe-curling incidents over the past 18-months, which I can now admit to and accept. For example, I would often drink too much - and frequently end up in conflict or compromising situations that just made me feel worse about myself. I would push myself to the limits - emotionally and physically - telling myself to keep on going even when I was exhausted. I would experience moments when I was so enveloped with anger that I couldn't see a way forward. And as for the time when I snapped my cruciate ligament - well, that really was an accident just waiting to happen. I was lucky to escape with a relatively minor injury! Self-protection had gone out of the window as I stubbornly struggled to fight my demons, and to find the love I craved. But you know what made the difference? It's only now becoming clear. The one thing that made the difference was this...
After each ridiculous incident, I started learning to have greater patience with myself. I decided to imagine myself as a confused and hurt child, and reasoned that in my experience a child doesn't do "bad things" deliberately - and neither was I. So there was no point in telling myself off any more. I reasoned that the better option would be to cast aside any judgement, and instead forgive myself for whatever misdemeanour had occurred. Unconditionally. It made sense on a logical level, but on an emotional level - boy was that a big ask! And yet... deep breaths and positive self-talk at the ready, slowly I stopped beating myself up for my ridiculous behaviour, and instead learned to love myself through the event. Those "mornings after" for example, rather than berate myself for once again making a bad situation worse, I would reassure myself that "this too will pass" and slowly started to accept and live through the feelings of shame or embarrassment - without judgement or criticism. And as my acceptance grew, my self-sabotage behaviour decreased. And as I forgave myself on the inside - well, so the outside started to reflect my slowly growing sense of peace. To the point now, where regular self-sabotage is a distant memory from the past.
Because now my world and my experiences are supportive - and surprising. Not just sometimes, but constantly and consistently. Just last week, for example, I was lucky enough to find myself in the wonderful situation where I was a delegate on an inspirational training course. For the first time in years I was the one receiving the input! I was the one who was learning and being motivated! I was the one whose mind was being stretched with new ideas and new methodologies - and boy did that feel great! And you know what? That ground-breaking course came to me as if it was a gift. Out of the blue, totally unexpected, and totally right for me.
This post is for anyone who has known or who is still experiencing their own wilderness. My intention has been to explain, warts and all, that even as we may feel ourselves sinking in to despair and self-loathing, even if we find ourselves repeating the same old destructive patterns - despite our best intentions; even though we may feel we can never be good enough, whole enough or lovable enough... the journey starts from within. It is said that the darkest hour is the one before dawn.... so no matter how grim it may seem, the sun will always shine again. And as it is within, so it becomes without.
Wilderness times are not "bad times" - they're the times of growth and discovery. The opportunity to finally find out who we really are. The time to put an end to putting up or making do, and to start living life to the full. It's the invitation to love ourselves - fully and unconditionally... yes, even through those seemingly unforgivable behaviours. For these are the things that become our greatest teachers - and eventually, our best friends too. Because by taking a look at ourselves and dealing with these things honestly and without judgement, so we can free ourselves and claim the life that is truly ours to live. My wilderness has helped me to find who I am.... and I'm deeply grateful. Because, you know what? Mel's World is a blummin great place to be - and if I can come through these experiences feeling whole and complete, well then so can everyone. And I, for one, am standing right here for anyone who's going through any kind of wilderness-thinking. Keep going. Keep the faith. And one day all will suddenly make sense.
And to finish? As if by magic, here's another perfect example of the world I'm now experiencing. An automated email has just this moment come in that sums up exactly what I've just been writing. It's a regular note from Neale Donald Walsch's website, and this is what it says:

On this day of your life, Mel, I believe God wants you to know...

....that there will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That
will be the beginning.

Louis L'Amour said that, and he was right. We must let it go. All of it. It will look as if your life is over, and that everything you have worked for has collapsed.

Actually, its construction will have just begun.

It is so trite, I know, but I must say it anyway. I have to say it.

"For every door that closes, there is another that opens."

This is the door you have been looking for...but you could not hope to find it while you were locked behind the first one.

Perspectives - Thoughts or Senses?

2010-09-26T15:14:00.000+01:00

This is a subject that's fascinated me for more years than I care to remember. It's to do with the perspective from which we choose to experience living. It's also, I believe, to do with the way in which we've learned how to think about things. And I'm surely and certainly coming to the conclusion that many of the ways in which we have been guided about how to do things - how to focus, how to achieve our goals, how to create the lifestyle we'd like to have, have actually been misguided. I'll do my best to explain.

One of my particular areas of interest, as those who have experienced any kind of coaching with me will already know, is the use we make of language. How the words we habitually use to describe ourselves, or our situation, can provide the keys to what is really happening for us. Many of my clients, for example, will come to me looking for solutions to a situation they describe as something they "should" do, or "need" to change, or "have to" do something about. The fact that these restrictive, or punishing words are being used, tells me instantly that there is an internal conflict going on for that person. It's like there's a part of them that's quite literally scolding another part of them - although we're rarely actually taught about the impact of such language on ourselves and on others. When I'm working with someone, or a team, their language can quickly tell me where there's a gap - a void. How, unconsciously, they're continuing to repeat the very pattern that is bringing them the results they say they don't want.

So I'll invite them to find other words to describe the same situation, and at the same time bring a sense of connection and power - so that they can stop the battle about what they "should" or "must" be doing, and instead move through that to find the key that can actually create the changes that have been so difficult to resolve. Because once that internal battle is dissolved, then they are free to work on what really counts. Until that is done, they'll continue going round in circles - and as a result will experience frustration and self beat up because they can't make any progress. It's not rocket science - it's actually very simple. And the simplicity is what, sometimes, means it's difficult for people to believe.... until they actually experience the changes when they choose a different description to explain the same situation. The situation itself doesn't change, but the way they feel about it changes completely. And this is what I mean about perspectives.

Another example - and one of my particular bugbears - is the way in which numerous positive thinking books, and motivational teachers, will encourage us to focus on what it is we want from life."Get absolutely clear on what it is you want, and just how much you want to achieve it!" they'll enthuse "Make that vision real, so you believe what it is you want!" Now, all very well meaning, and I'm certainly not dismissing the good intention here. Far from it. What I'm questioning is, from my experiences, the continued inappropriate use of words. Because surely, if we state and re-state how much we want something, well then we're never going to have it - not now, not ever. Because all we're actually focusing on is the want... the lack.... the non-havingness that we're currently experiencing. It's like those well-meaning people who say with absolute certainty "I WILL do that thing" whatever it happens to be - go to the gym, stop smoking, find the right relationship. But no matter how much energy and passion we put in to the word will, that's exactly what it remains. WILL and not IS.... because no matter how fast we may choose to run towards that goal, each time we re-confirm that we WILL have it, well that's all we can experience. The sense that some time in the future we will do or have that thing we so desire.

So how do we fall so easily in to these traps? Why doesn't something stop us - or at least raise a warning flag to alert us that, perhaps, we've taken a wrong turn? Why do we continue blindly following the "shoulds" the "wills" and the "wants" - is it purely because we've been taught that this is the correct way to achieve our goals? Or is it something else? This, for me, is the crux of the matter.

I believe that, too many times, we are taught to assess the world purely through our cognitive, thinking ability rather than through our senses. The feelings, the instincts, the soul if you like, that exists within each and every one of us. Our thoughts, it is said, create our reality. And I absolutely believe that to be true. The thing is, though, if we don't check our thoughts through our internal feeling process, then how will we know whether the thoughts we are choosing are actually achieving what it is we say we'd like to have more of or less of in our lives? How on earth can we know whether, even with all the right intentions, we're inadvertently heading down the wrong track?

I remember attending an Anthony Robbins 3-day seminar some years ago. It was an amazing experience, and one I would recommend wholeheartedly. But there was an incident on the second day when I just couldn't help chuckling to myself. He was encouraging the audience of thousands to take control of their life. To feel good about themselves. To BE who they choose to BE - and not settle for anything less. And he had everyone following a chant to remind them - The Winners Creed. This, more or less, was how it went. Mr Robbins would lead with a phrase, and the entire audience would follow it with passion. So imagine, if you will, the pumping music, the hyped up audience, and the highly effective speaker leading the chant:

"Now I am the voice!" (now I am the voice!)

"I will LEAD not follow!" (I will LEAD not follow!)

... and instantly my impish giggle started, and wouldn't stop. Here were all these people following along to exactly what was being fed to them! Now, I'm not saying that this was done on purpose, but I couldn't help but titter at the irony...!

We're taught to "go for it" to "reach out" to "seek and we shall find".... but instead of searching for something "out there" how often are we encouraged to go within ourselves instead? I was talking with a dear friend on Friday about this. He was telling me how he's got to make changes, how he's got do do certain things in order to achieve some major shifts in his life. I invited him to consider, then, what he was actually creating through those thoughts. I showed him how to go within himself and check in with his feelings - and the result was astonishing. Because it helped him to realise that all the time he thought he had to find something "out there" he was re-confirming the "fact" that his life right now was far from ideal. And all the time he's doing that... well... guess what... his life would remain exactly as it is. I reminded him of the countless stories about prisoners of war, who, regardless of their grim situations, continued to imagine themselves in a place of peace and beauty. There's an account about one such prisoner who was a keen golfer. He used his time in solitary confinement to imagine he was on the fairway, practicing his golf swing. When he was finally released - yup, you guessed it - his ability on the golf course had increased ten-fold. The point here is, he wasn't imagining he would be on the golf course when he got out. He was imagining he was already on the golf course. He'd found the key that seems so elusive to so many of us - including those of us who avidly follow self-development and improvement teachings.

So my point is, the perspective we choose will always have a huge impact on the results we experience. As a perfect example, consider the picture above (Aude Oliver, Massachusetts Institute of Technology) which depicts two very different people. Close up, most people will see Albert Einstein. But move away from the screen, and Marilyn Monroe will take his place. Brains or beauty? Thoughts or Senses? We all have choices....

I, for one, believe that the most powerful choice remains in noticing the feelings that are inside us. In accepting those feelings, and nurturing the sense we would have if our lives were exactly as we would choose it to be. Because once we can achieve that, well then the rest follows. Yes, I believe our thoughts do create our reality - I have plenty proof of that from my own experiences. I also believe, from my own life experiences and from testimonials from my coaching clients, that the real trick is in acceptance of the good stuff rather than chasing things that we think are outside of us.

Have a go - it's easier than you may think!

"Follow Your Heart" - Childhood Inspiration

2010-09-23T21:47:00.000+01:00

Image via WikipediaI've just had another of those "ah-ha" moments and felt compelled to write. You see, tonight I've found an audio file of a record I used to listen to when I was a child. I've been looking for many years for this particular recording to no avail. For some reason (you know how it is!) I just managed to find it tonight, with very little effort. It's a recording of an old 45rpm record I used to have when I was a small child, Beatrix Potter's "The Tale Of The Flopsy Bunnies" read by Vivien Leigh - the link is at the end of this post for anyone who's interested.
It starts off with the Flopsy Bunnies cheerfully singing along together "We don't care, we don't care, we don't care a fig, there's a lettuce in the pantry but it isn't very big. It won't last tomorrow, I'm sorry to say, but tomorrow is another day..." and goes on to tell the tale of how the little rabbits went over to Peter Rabbit's place to ask for some cabbages, how they got in to some trouble along the way, but how they eventually escaped and got home safely to their family with plenty to eat. Many of us, I'm sure, grew up with these wonderfully innocent tales from Beatrix Potter - but it wasn't until this evening when I heard the entire track again for the first time in 35 or 40 years (!) that I realised the relevance and importance of this particular audio track.
There is one particular song that has stayed with me throughout my entire life, and I must say I have often wondered at the significance. But now I've just heard it again in sequence with the rest of the story and the accompanying songs, everything is falling in to place - and old memories have been triggered. For me, the story tells of a bunch of jolly rabbits (children) with a bright outlook and a remarkably positive attitude to life. The crisp british accents, and the innocence of the jolly songs is, perhaps, just a quaint peep back at yesteryear... but it's something that I now know for certain put me in good stead to deal with the challenges I've faced and overcome since my own childhood. And it serves to remind me just how important it is that we teach our children well. How important early influences can be and how, if they're the right ones, they can carry us through for many many years to come.
The Flopsy Bunnies, you see, worked together and looked after each other. Together they faced and overcame the dangers of becoming made in to rabbit pie, outwitting the gardener who was intent on capturing them for his tea. All the time they kept a jolly smile on their faces, and nurtured a certainty that all would work out in the end. They'd been taught by their parents, you see, that all they needed to find food (nourishment and safety) was "a nose and a little faith" lessons they had learned by means of a song, Follow Your Heart.
When I was a little girl, it was simply the fact that I liked the tune - and, fancying myself as a bit of an actress, I'd spend hours singing the song and acting out the story to my 'audience' of dolls and teddies - and sometimes my baby sister if I could get her to sit still long enough! As an adult, the song has come to mean so much more to me. For it is something I have regularly referred back to during times of trouble. Just remembering the crisp clear voice of the singer, and the gentle tinkling music in the background, has transported me back to those times of innocence and magic, and helped me to remember that things are OK and that somehow there is always a way through - no matter what. It has reminded me that I can get through anything, that the most important thing is to believe and to listen to myself - that I am OK, that I can find a better way and that I will survive.
I can remember first listening to that record snuggled up in the arms of my Daddy - breathing in the smells of tobacco on his thick woolen jumper, and listening to the deep tones of his voice resonating through his chest as he hummed along to the tunes. As of this evening, I can now also remember singing the song to myself quietly in bed, tears streaming silently down my face after he had died. I remember singing it in my head to help create an attitude of defiance whenever the tears threatened to fall again when I went back to school. I also remember writing the lyrics in my orange covered school rough book when mum was taken ill, and again many more times after she had died. Last year, when I discovered my husband's betrayals, I would hum the tune and try to sing the words through the sobs and my desperate feelings of abandonment. And you know what? It worked.
It worked not only because each time it took me back to that sense of safety and warmth with my father, but also because the simple words actually tell a story. It worked because despite everything that happened, I have been able to keep myself open, to do exactly as the words advised all those years ago. To follow my heart, just as the song invites, and to find love and peace in a world that had on many occasions threatened to engulf me.
Tonight, as I heard the song for the first time in decades, the tears rolled freely down my cheeks - but this time the tears were of joy and gratitude. Gratitude that I am who I am and that I am where I am. As parents we're encouraged to teach our children well? Well, I was taught very well indeed, by very wise parents whose love still carries me to this day. And I am grateful. I just hope that I can give as much to my own son.

Follow your heart

Just where it takes you

And it will take you anywhere you want to go

And if you should ever be in doubt

Your heart will always find a simple way out

Follow your heart

Follow it blindly

And it will take you on a journey to a star

A million million miles need not be very far

Just follow your heart

And there you are!

Here is the link: http://www.familyfunland.com/1-free-site/free-area/program-pages/audio-programs/potter-flopsy-bunnies.htm

Carpe Diem

2010-09-21T15:06:00.000+01:00

Image via Wikipedia...which is part of the longer phrase from Horace: Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero – "Seize the day, trusting as little as possible in the future." For me, this means to make the most of every opportunity that is presented. To live like there is no tomorrow. To exist in the flow of now. To be grateful for the gifts that are around us - right here, right now. Or, to quote another famous saying "eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we may die!"

This was been brought home to me with a resounding thud this weekend, and made even stronger through a conversation I had this morning with my beautiful friend Franny. I learned at the weekend that one of her friends had been killed in a freak motorcycle accident. Less than 40 years old, married with two young children, this young man had set off on his own to ride a cross-country route he knew very well. As usual, his wife was waiting for him at the normal finish point, expecting to take him home and enjoy their customary family evening meal together. But he never returned. Concerned that time was passing, she called his friends who went out to look for him. They found him some five hours after the accident had happened - he'd fallen off and hit some rocks - and of course by then it was too late.

This morning Franny told me how yesterday she had gone to the undertakers, to find her grieving friend still sitting with the body of her husband. She was lying against his cold and lifeless shoulder - and as she saw Franny enter, she pulled herself up to greet her, but she wouldn't (couldn't?) let go of her husband, so she stayed there just rocking back and forth, and moaning with the agony of it all. The way it was described to me it seems like the most shocking and heart-breaking scene of human suffering - one which nobody should have to endure. And I know that this is just the start of it - for now this young woman will have to find a way to get on with her life, for herself and for the sake of their two young children. Although I don't know them personally, my heart bleeds for them.

And it made me think. It made me re-evaluate where I am. For yesterday, you see, was one of those not so good days for me. I'd allowed myself to become tired, and all the little niggles of everyday life had suddenly appeared much more threatening. I'd allowed myself to remember the battles that still lie ahead of me, and I found myself lured back in to the feeling of sinking in to the quicksand I'd fought so hard to escape. Those all too familiar feelings of hopelessness and fear suddenly seemed to be lurking once again, threatening to gain power and suck me in to their clutches... and I was struggling to shift them. So I decided to let them happen. To allow those unwelcome emotions to have their moment and to wash themselves through. But rather than be dragged through with them, I instead just did my best to observe them from a safe distance. I wasn't going to let them get the better of me, nor was I going to fight them. My choice was to just let them be. Give them their space, without fear or judgement, and know that they'd pass through in their own time.

This, I believe, is what's called acceptance. Acceptance of what is, acceptance of who I am, and acceptance that some times are going to be less shiny than others. Because, surely, whatever I'm feeling (welcomed or not) this is all part of who I am. Since I'm only just finding out who I really am, well I believe this is all part of the process.

In bed, much later on, I decided to take a good look at where I've got to compared with where I was last year. So I had a read through the stories I've posted on this blog since I very first started. And I'm amazed. Amazed at the honesty with which I shared my feelings at the time. Amazed by the overwhelming pain and confusion that I endured and overcame. Heartened - and amused - by the determination of my quest for something else. My unwavering belief that things were always getting better. And also saddened in a way at how long I've fought, and how many battle I've faced. Through the stories I recognised a small yet determined girl, fiercely focused on staying strong even in the face of untold horrors and uncertainty. And I smiled.

As I've said many times in recent posts, now I'm finally finding out who I really am. Now I've finally discovered where to look for peace and contentment - and, more to the point, how to accept them. Along with the good stuff, I've learned to accept everything else that comes along with this wonderous thing called life. And OK, so yesterday wasn't one of my shiny days - but it still fulfilled life's constant promise to bring forth unexpected gifts. Because once again I grew a little bit more. I became even more of who I already am - and in turn I grew to like myself even more through the process.

So, you see, there really is no need to worry or feel down about anything anymore. Acceptance of even the 'bad' stuff is acceptance of all there is. And all there is, is everything there is. And if I were to die today, well I'd die knowing that I've lived life to the full, and to the very best of my abilities. I've grown through adversity, and I've learned to accept that there's always a way through - no matter how hard or how scary the future challenges might seem. For that is all they are - future challenges. And that's all.

Today, right here, right now, life is good. I am already living the life of my dreams - I live in a beautiful home, I have a wonderful family and the most amazing bunch of friends around me. I have food on the table, clothes on my back, and a warm place to lay my head each night. And yes, I have the biggest plans for the future - great goals to keep me inspired and on track.

But that's all those plans are - future plans. And you know what? The fact is that they're already achieved. Because I ALREADY feel good - about myself and about what I'm doing.

Babatunde Olatunji, the Nigerian drummer, educator and social activist puts it this way: "Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. And today? Today is a gift. That's why we call it the present"

So carpe diem seems an apt and fitting statement for where I am. Because NOW is the time to celebrate. NOW is the time to feel love. NOW is the time to know that life is good - and seize it with both hands, to jump in with ALL of myself. Honestly, openly, and with joy in my heart.

You can check out this performance from Babatunde's album Drums of Passion - and FEEL the truth in his wisdom :-)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8wp1PKuqwPk

Sanctuary In Healing

2010-09-19T14:58:00.000+01:00

Image via WikipediaHmmmm.... well, it's an interesting point don't you think? IS there sanctuary in healing? WHERE'S the sanctuary in healing? Sometimes this pathway to peace can be a rocky road. There are obstacles along the way - situations that arise to question even the strongest of pilgrims, together with well-meaning people who doubt the wisdom of the quest because it brings change. Those of us who choose to walk this pathway will naturally be met with resistance - and some things that used to be so real, so right, so important as a way of life suddenly become something completely different. And that's OK.
I remember one of my earliest teachers, Dr Patricia Crane, telling us how she had been surprised at the beginning of her personal journey to be urged by a famous speaker to "reconsider this pathway. Think carefully about the choices you are making. Because this is not an easy road to take - and once you've started there's no turning back". At the time I didn't fully understand the implications. But now, now that I feel I'm truly living in the way I'd always thought was possible, but didn't know how to find, I sense a deep resonance with what that wise teacher was saying. It certainly hasn't been easy to move through the multi-faceted layers of habitual emotional garbage I'd been unwittingly carrying and feeding for so many years. The challenges have been shocking, painful, and at times down right exhausting - but throughout it all I have never given up my faith that there IS a better way. I've soldiered on. Right from early childhood (as those who have followed my story will already know) I knew there was more to life than the confused and hurtful experiences that I was expected to believe were the reality of our human existence. And now I believe I've found that place - and, more importantly, how to get there. Because I also now know for a fact that for many years I'd been looking in the wrong places - so no wonder it had been so elusive! No wonder I had become so frustrated with what seemed like an on-going battle against mighty forces that appeared hell-bent on throwing obstacles in my way!
Now I've found the 'trick' to this quest, and I feel as though through the fire and brimstone I've finally found the holy grail of self-discovery. Now I accept all the good, the peace, the contentment, the joy, the love... everything I'd ever searched for... and I'm just giving myself time and space to settle in to this new way of being. And, as I settle, I am already finding that I'm more able than ever to point others in the right direction as well. Those who have asked for help over recent times, describe feeling 'calm' 'centred' 'peaceful' 'loved' and all manner of words to explain their experiences as they accept new ways of being who they really are. They look at me with surprise when I ask gently about whatever it was that was troubling them before they came to me - because the troubles have simply dissolved as a result of the work we've done together. And each time this happens, it re-confirms to me my own deep feeling of joy and completeness. Of safety, gratitude, and wonder at what life is REALLY all about.
So I'm now setting up my own sanctuary in healing right here in my home. Because that's what it already is. The natural positive energy here is abundant in every sense of the word - and it has certainly helped me to overcome my own challenges over the past 18 months. Together with my skills as a coach and healer, well, it's a natural choice isn't it?
And because I've put the intention out there, well so it is now becoming reality. Just a couple of days ago, during a phone call with my dear friend Kathy, she told me that she'd been talking about me to another friend of hers who already works in this field. They were considering alternative locations for their annual "me time" visits to places that offer peace and rejuvenation for the soul. Out of the blue Kathy had piped up "well, I have a feeling that Mel might be thinking of doing something like that" although I hadn't actually said anything to her!
In so many ways it's "already done" so now it's just up to me to accept whatever is happening to bring it in to reality. My own Sanctuary In Healing is coming in to being. Right here. Right now. Right time. Right place. And I'm ready.

I Choose Life

2010-09-16T15:14:00.001+01:00

Image by Alesa Dam via FlickrThe past few weeks have, as you'll know, been somewhat of a continuing revelation to me. And you know what? I'm realising that this is just the beginning. Rather than reaching completion, my true journey has just begun. For just as I think I've got it, just as I'm sure I understand, the very moment that everything makes sense to me - well, then all of a sudden "Wham!" and I'm jolted forward by another shock-wave of learning. The ride continues and I'm once again invited to accept an even greater expansion.
A relatively short while ago I may have been tempted to label these moments of growth a "bad" thing, because when they happen I find myself thrown off-balance and full of unanswerable questions. Well, OK, perhaps I wouldn't actually have described them as a "bad" thing, more perhaps as another "challenge" - by which I would mean something that's at the least annoying, in most cases scary, and in some situations terrifyingly threatening. Whatever the case, these moments of change certainly were not occasions I would look forward to - quite the opposite in fact!
But now things are different. Now I have learned to welcome their arrival. I've learned to gently move through the feelings that come with them, to accept the lessons they bring and to wait for the expanded understanding and deeper peace that always waits the other side for me. In fact I'm now so comfortable with them that I've even given them a nickname. These moments are now called "Blips", and they're helping me to expand in to the richness that is life. And boy is it happening quickly!
Blips of some sort or another are now happening regularly, at least every few days and sometimes more frequently. Sometimes they last a few moments, other times a good few hours. As I stand back from them I can imagine them as a rhythmic pulsing pattern - a throbbing heart-beat invitation from the life-force of the universe itself, pounding through me and urging me to live life to the full. Each one brings a new revelation - either a clearing of something from my past, or the forging of a new pathway that I hadn't known before. Each new revelation results in greater awareness, fuller acceptance, and deeper peace.
So what, exactly, am I talking about? I'll give you a couple of examples, perhaps it will help to explain.
The first one happened on Saturday, and lasted for quite a while. I'd just arrived in the UK, with much excitement and anticipation, as it was to be my first stay with Stuart. Fairly soon though, the excitement turned in to something else much less inviting. We were sitting in his front room and I felt a wave of panic rising up through my body. My heart rate was faster, and my smile had disappeared. I knew it was a Blip happening, and on Stuart's request I did my best to explain what was going on for me. Rather than being dismissive (as had happened so many times in my past) he seemed totally understanding of my peculiar description of "a bunch of atoms and wormy-things whirling about and escaping from the top of a tube!" We left the house and went for a wander in to the town, while I continued wrestling with the curious sensation that the top of my head had been taken off, and magic popping dust particles sent whirring around my entire body. These are not "pleasant" sensations - they're off-putting to say the least! But as I said earlier, I've learned to accept them and look forward to the extended good feelings that always follow. A few hours later all had subsided. The wormy-things had all returned quietly to their tube, the popping dust had gone and my head was back in one piece. My heart felt bigger, my smile was coming from within, my eyes were sparkling, I felt at peace and full of joy. I'd reached an even greater level of acceptance and growth - and I felt amazing! The message? It's safe for me to accept all the good and all the good that's being offered to me - the clearing of an old childhood pattern that made me afraid to accept the good stuff, for fear it would be taken away.
Another occasion happened just last night. Very quick, very unexpected, and very profound. You may remember that I've been particularly upset at times by people not understanding where I have been in my journey? People who, as far as I was concerned, were showing indifference rather than understanding to my plight? Well, how's this for a Blip that puts all these concerns away for ever? It suddenly dawned on me that, rather than being unconcerned about my situation, there were some people who (consciously or otherwise) through their actions had been showing me "another way" rather than allowing me to totally become absorbed in to a false reality of negativity. Let me explain. There have been times when all I've wanted has been a cuddle or a shoulder to cry on - but on some of those occasions, people I expected would have offered those, have instead chosen to ignore my words, and in some cases go on to complain about the terrible problems they have been facing! In the past, I have sometimes chosen to take these rebuttals as a personal hurt - a swipe against me in my time of need. Last night's Blip showed me they were in fact quite the opposite. Let's see if I can explain what I think I've learned.
While we're trapped in the thought-patterns of worry and negativity, experiencing life as difficult and scary, we expect people to provide the succour we believe we need at that time. Yet by providing such support, the other person is, inadvertently, buying-in to the illusion that we are somehow suffering - and, therefore, compounding the energetic vibration behind the situation. Am I making sense so far?
On the other hand, the person who offers no such support but instead chooses to talk about unrelated things, or even decides to ask something of us instead of offering support, is refusing to buy-in to that way of thinking. They're refusing to perceive us as down or beaten, and instead are seeing us still as the strong person who's usually there to laugh with or to help them in some way. Now then, it may be excruciatingly frustrating at the time when these things happen (I know, I've been there!) but as my Blip allowed me to realise (see with real-eyes) last night, in fact these people are showing the way forward - if we could just understand it at the time. They're offering the opportunity to help us re-calibrate our thought forms, our 'self-talk' if you like, and inviting us to heal from the situation in which we find ourselves.
It doesn't mean, of course, that we don't still seek the normal levels of support that pull us through these times. It simply means that those annoying ones who don't seem to 'get it' are perhaps the ones who still see us as healthy, happy and whole no matter what our situation appears to be. So, for me, rather than berate those who I thought were deserting me, I can now love them and thank them for refusing to treat me as beaten. For forcing me instead to do something different.
I don't know whether I'm right or wrong with these revelations that are coming to me - and in truth, I don't really care. Because these Blips are providing me what I DO care about. And that is peace, joy and freedom from the chains that bound me for so long.
Blip Blip.... Blip Blip.... Blip Blip.... The heartbeat of the universe continues to pulse it's wisdom and love through my body, breathing life in to my finally freed soul, while I soak up the wonders of this glorious life that's longing to share it's bounty with each and every one of us. I choose life - and life, in turn, is choosing me.

What A Journey!

2010-09-04T15:54:00.000+01:00

Image via Wikipedia"The map is not the territory" is one of those phrases I've found to be very useful over the years - although I must confess to not totally understanding it at times! The map? Or the phrase? Well, both to be honest. For now, though, my personal take on it is this. You can trace a journey, you can plan a route - but it rarely turns out to be anything like the actual experience!

For the past few weeks, you see, I've had a grin on my face that matches the warmth I now feel in my heart, in my body and in my soul - through and through. Nourishing. Comforting. Safe, secure and happy in my own skin. That elusive 'something' I seem to have spent my whole lifetime searching for is finally mine. For keeps. No matter what happens any more.

Those who know me will vouch for the fact that I've long since dreamed of completing the Camino Trail Pilgrimage - through France and on to Spain - after being inspired years ago by Shirley Maclaine's book The Camino. Raw and honest, it charts her own pilgrimage on that very trail, and it's held a huge fascination for me ever since. The place I live in France is very close to the trail, and is filled with history, mystery and magic, for it's a place where the Templar Knights once had a strong hold. I hadn't realised this at the time we moved here, of course, but it does make some sense to me now in explaining the instant 'pull' I felt for the place that since that moment has been my home for over seven years!

Today I decided to look back over some of my earlier blogs, and it's blatantly obvious to me now that I've already completed my own personal Camino Trail right here - without even leaving my home. For the journey I've taken, the trials and challenges I've overcome along the way, have surely led me to this sense of peace that I now know was always my birthright - and I also believe to be the birthright of each and every one of us.

I used to believe that if I ever found true happiness then it was time to die - for what else could there be? Why else would we continue to live - to search, to journey - once we'd found the Holy Grail? But I was wrong. And to be fair, how on earth could I have known how it would be until I experienced it for myself? Yet in searching for it, I'm now certain I was also subconsciously holding myself back. The irony doesn't escape me.

Since that incredible Saturday afternoon at the festival, you see, that moment when I received the gift of love, I have changed. And there's no going back. I've felt it in my soul - yes, I've chosen to fight the feeling on a few occasions since then, but no more. Peace is now my natural way of being - and it feels amazing! Since then, when I've spoken to people on the phone, or seen them face to face, my friends have all confirmed what I already knew to be true - that I've transformed. That I'm now calm. No more Tigger-like bouncing. No more manic enthusiasm. Just peace. Calm. And gentleness. Don't get me wrong, the enthusiasm has by no means diminished - no, far from it. My optimism and positivity have grown beyond my wildest dreams. It's just that now I've just somehow managed to let it all in properly - to finally be it. To accept it and allow it to nourish me - in the way that nature intended.

"You sound very different!" were some of the first words my wise friend Kathy said to me during a telephone conversation just last week. "Your voice has totally changed!" exclaimed Rachel, who normally expects me to greet her calls with bounce and energy. "You look different - kind of shiny!" was a comment from Gillian when I saw her a couple of weeks ago. And I know it to be true. I feel that I'm radiating peace and happiness now. I know that I'm finally in the place I've always wanted to be - but I don't 'want' any more - because now at last I 'have' it. Does that make sense?

The journey has been rough. I've been to the darkest recesses of my soul. I've faced my demons - emotional and physical. And yes, it's true, there have been times when I thought I'd never come through. Times when I feared I would succumb to insanity - or worse. But now I've reached this place of peace, I can look back over whatever got me here, hold my hand on my heart and give thanks to every single one of the challenges that I've met along the way. Thank each and every body-blow. Thank each time I've been knocked off my feet, winded, wounded and wailing from the pain. Because now I've found salvation. I don't wish to sound all evangelical here, but I truly do believe I've found the light. And now so many of the ancient texts make perfect sense to me - no longer just as a 'theory' or a 'story' but as an absolute truth. Because now I feel it for myself.

Now I feel cleansed. I know that nothing now can harm me. I am safe. I am secure. And I am absolutely determined to share my experiences with fellow travellers - and aid them along their own pathway in every way I possibly can. This is my life's purpose - it's taken over 45 years for me to find my own peace. Let's hope my experiences can help others to achieve their goal in a shorter time.

I've started now, and I'm absolutely poised. Ready, willing and able to do whatever is required of me - because something bigger than me now flows through my soul and is already radiating in my life. Relationships are reaching new depths - friends, family, and of course my connection with Stuart, my own Templar Knight. Brand new projects are coming my way - exciting and meaningful projects I would not have dreamed of being possible just a few short months ago. I feel very blessed. Very lucky. And everywhere I look I know I am very, very loved.

Bless you and thank you - to every single person who's accompanied me along my pilgrimage. You all know who you are, and you all have a very special place in my heart - for ever.

The Gift Of Love

2010-08-08T21:21:00.046+01:00

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Do you ever come out of a situation wondering how on earth what just happened, happened? Feeling that your head's been taken off, messed around, blown away and then replaced? Knowing that, on the deepest of levels, your life has somehow changed for ever? Well, I'm in that very place right now - and I didn't even see it coming. Something totally unexpected. Completely left-field. Crept up while I wasn't looking - then again, ain't that just like so many things?

I've found love you see, just when I wasn't looking for it. That in itself is a huge shock to the system. But even more peculiar is the fact that it's not 'love' in the conventional meaning of the word. Or at least, certainly not in my usual understanding of it. This may not be easy to explain, so I'll just do my best.

It's all centered around a recent visit from Stuart, a friend of mine I used to work with 20 years ago. I hadn't seen or heard from him in many years until we hooked up last summer on Facebook. Instantly we had the same easy click we'd always shared before. At that time, I'd only recently discovered about my husband's betrayals and I was just beginning to realise the enormity of the trouble I was in, so to re-connect with someone I'd counted as a good friend all those years ago was great, particularly because of the setting in which we originally became friends. For me you see, the time when we worked together was one of the most energetic, expansive and enriching times of my life.

We were part of a team of 20-plus people from all walks of life, who worked and travelled together selling advertising space for Yellow Pages. It was the first time I'd ever experienced the power of working in a cohesive team that really looked out for each other, supporting each other through thick and thin. To feel the pure magic of team spirit, the almost unquantifiable 'something special' that succeeded in pulling together a diverse and exceptionally colourful group of people with the most extraordinarily strong bonds. For me, that was the time when I first felt truly successful at what I was doing, and I loved every minute of it. It was also during this time that I fell totally and utterly in love with another work colleague - a passionate but illicit affair that was doomed to failure, but that none the less touched my heart and soul in a way that has only ever been matched by the man I went on to marry (another doomed relationship as we all now know, but this time for totally different reasons!)

Stuart, of course, was there throughout all of those times - he was always the calm voice of reason, the person others could turn to for advice and guidance, and a loyal friend to everyone in the team. I was delighted to find him again after such a long time.

Over recent months, Stuart has had his own issues to deal with culminating in the breakdown of his marriage after a 30-year partnership. It was clearly a very bleak and frightening time for him, and I could feel his pain. Although my situation was very different, I felt I could empathise and help him in some small way. I keep copies of the huge collections of emails, texts, messages and letters that I received from friends and family who continue to send me love and support over my difficult times - and I re-read them whenever I feel in need of a boost. So, appreciating the power of positive messages from my own experiences, I determined to do my best in supporting Stuart in the same way. I'd post a message on his wall when he described a dark day. I'd send private messages with more details - words of encouragement, directional pointers, positive reinforcements. And I'd let him know that, as my friend, he was welcome to come over here and chill out. To relax in the natural healing energy that is abundant in this welcoming French countryside I'm lucky enough to call home.

Well, a short while ago he did exactly that, and arrived at my home for a stop-off on his epic journey that was going to take him way further south. It was great to see him again - I could see that the 'old' Stuart I'd always known was in there somewhere, but the person who stood in front of me was a stranger - care-worn, fatigued and clearly in a great deal of pain. A brittle shell bravely fighting for survival, and my heart went out to him because he so closely mirrored my own pain from last year. And I promised myself, and him, that I would do everything within my power to help him through.

The first couple of days found us talking, sharing and laughing about the old stories as he gradually opened up - allowing me to freely employ the range personal and executive coaching skills for which I'm known. Every angle, any opportunity, without respite - I focused on re-igniting the spark I knew was there. On finding the true essence of who he is so that he could move as quickly and effectively as possible through the pain that he must overcome.

We talked. We walked. We cried. We challenged. We fought. We ate. We drank. We played. We sat in silence. We roared with laughter. And no matter what, we kept on going - kept on moving through, even when it was scary. And little by little the spark burned brighter as we breathed life back in to his soul. Before my eyes I saw the person I had known so well coming alive again. His eyes gave the first sign that things were changing - clearer, more open, as once more the deep hazel green hues started weaving the mischief and fun I recognised from our Yellow Pages days. Then came the smile - the dimple that suddenly appears from nowhere, the crooked cheeky smile and familiar chuckle that made him so popular all those years ago. And I was pleased. Pleased that my friend was returning, and pleased that I was clearly still as skilled in the profession I love so much. But it was more than that - because the more Stuart regained his strength, the more he started replaying the lessons back to me. And the more he continued to reflect back, I too started to change.

It was slow at first - creeping up so that I didn't notice what was happening. But soon it became clear that I was, perhaps, not as far forward as I had previously thought. Clear that, even though I had believed I'd done really well over the past 18 months, there was still room for growth and learning. Clear that although I'm now happy and feeling free, there was plenty more within me yet to be discovered - and, therefore, plenty more outside of me that I can achieve and accept as a result. So, with Stuart's help, I found myself starting to open to the idea of more possibilities and joy in my life...

At the weekend we went south to Bordeaux to the Sun Ska Reggae festival. Stuart had secured VIP access all areas passes for us both and while it took us over three hours to foil the determined efforts of the French resistance security team who were hell bent on refusing us correct entry, once we finally got in it was amazing! It was Friday evening just before midnight, and there we were standing in the wings backstage while Bob Marley's Original Wailers performed to the crowd of some 30,000 fans. It was absolutely breathtaking! We were touching distance from these legendary musicians while they opened their souls and shared their messages with the crowd - I thought I might pop with the enormity of the experience!

I have always loved live music - but this was something else. To actually be there. To be surrounded by the sounds, the vibes, the people, the atmosphere. To see the backstage workings. To meet the legends whose music I had loved since I was very young. Bob Marley himself has always had a special connection for me, since he died of cancer in 1981 just a few months after my mother - who died on his birthday, 6th February. So it is somehow fitting that it was there, at that festival, that my own spark was jolted in to being.

Stuart and I continued with our chats and explorations - bobbing and weaving, challenging and cajoling, encouraging and edging forward on our healing mission. And on the Saturday it happened. I don't remember exactly how it happened, but I remember with crystal clarity what it felt like. All of a sudden it was as though I couldn't breathe. My heart started fluttering, and I felt the crown of my head opening up as an enormous whoosh of light and love flooded down to me from beyond the clouds and right through in to my body. It seemed to reach in to my soul, and I was rooted me to the spot. I remember the stunned blinking, and turning to face Stuart, my mouth opening and shutting because I was unable to speak. And at that moment I saw it in his face as well. It wasn't just me. He'd had exactly the same experience. As if from nowhere, like a bolt from the blue, both of us had fallen in love. With each other, through each other, as a mirror of each other... all of those things, none of those things, and so much more.

But this wasn't what you'd expect. This wasn't 'normal' boyfriend girlfriend stuff - no, it was something quite different and very very safe. A sense that the love was coming from somewhere beyond, somewhere much further reaching than either of us could comprehend. A feeling that the love from the universe had suddenly reached us - both at the same time. And suddenly I knew that I'd come home. I knew then that some of my antics in my efforts to find connections over recent months, some of which make me wince with embarrassment, were all OK. I'd been right to search for connection. For love. And in seeking it so honestly, finally it had been delivered.

Through Stuart, on that very day (particularly auspicious, not just because of the Wailers and my mum's connections, but also because it happened to be the very day when I'd made my commitment to Mike 12 years earlier... also in a field, and also camping... ain't life sometimes weird that way?) I had been given the gift of love.

And this time - now - I know it's for real. This gift is mine to keep, no matter what the future might hold.

NOW I'm alive. NOW I'm ready. NOW I am me - and I accept it all, at last. I've seen the light and I've felt the love... and it's absolutely amazing. Life has now begun. I AM alive, and things will never be the same again.

Pain, Shame And The Winning Game - A Shark's Tale

2010-08-01T16:52:00.000+01:00

Image by richard ling via Flickr

I've been writing. And writing. And writing. "What and where?" you may well ask, since I've been very quiet in blogging terms, so the writing's sure not happening on this website! Yes. And that's because I've had my head down writing the manuscript for my first book. It's something I've always wanted to do since I can remember, but it hasn't been until recently that I've found the confidence to get on and do it. The outline has been 'out there' for nearly a year now - after all, I signed the contract with my agent on 10th September. But getting the manuscript itself written has been proving itself to be somewhat of a difficult birth!

Hardly a labour of love, it's much more what you might call 'cathartic' as I find the courage to write my story. Keeping the end result in sight helps enormously, and it also helps to imagine in detail the reactions of people I intend to benefit from the tale - their expressions, their words, their situations. But going through it - well, that's another matter. It's a fictional book, based on true experiences, and to make the story authentic it's been necessary to revisit certain episodes of my life to give credence and colour to the narrative. And it's tough. And it's draining. And it's very very sad.

It's tough to go back in to the black experiences in my past where I've felt so helpless and lonely. It's draining to dredge up old emotions, to go through old evidence, to revisit past happenings and see everything with new eyes. It's sad - heartbreaking - to understand how my naivety, positivity and trusting nature, the very part of me that friends and clients react to so positively, are the same parts that led me so willingly in to the lions den that very nearly claimed my sanity and perhaps my life.

Pain and shame is a good way to describe some of the emotions that are swirling around me at the moment. Not for the 'real life', not for the 'here and now' but for the 'then' which made up so much of my life. Pain at the excruciating hurt and anguish that came as a result of my naivety. Shame at the way I allowed so many things to happen. At my willingness to sacrifice myself at the alter in the wolf's lair - without any hesitation or even a backwards glance. At the fact that despite all this, despite giving my all, I still failed on the one goal I'd set out to achieve - being part of a nurturing and happy family for the rest of my life. That, indeed, is what has proven to be my downfall. Staying so fixed on the subconscious goal that I was blind to the realities. Oblivious to the day-to-day signs that could have shown me another way. Ignorant of the deliberately manipulative tactics of others, instead believing that the 'bad stuff' was somehow my fault. Instead accepting 'the edge of sanity' 'exhaustion' and 'crazymaking' as a normal set of feelings. Because I was told that this is what normal life is all about - and I believed my sources.

So this book is about taking meaning from the madness - for others as well as myself. And it's a tough journey to explain in writing.

Today is the twelfth anniversary of the day I met and fell in love with Mike. It's a massive confirmation to me for how far I've moved forward, since I didn't even realise the significance of the day until this afternoon! As I've said before, this day was always the most important day in the year for me - a day that signified true love, gratitude, safety, the finding of my true soulmate. It was a day that we would celebrate with gusto, and I would look forward to it for weeks!

This time last year I was trussed up in a full leg-brace, not yet realising the extent of my knee injury. I was equally ignorant as to the level of debts that were going to come out and bite me, since the major ones still hadn't hit. Surrounded by wonderfully supportive friends yet still I felt so desperately alone, and was still torturing myself trying to make sense of what had happened. Where had I gone wrong? What could I have done differently? How could I have been a better wife? How did it all fall apart when we'd been so strong together? All questions which, as I now realise, were utterly futile - but perfectly normal for people who have a healthy emotional response - and the very same questions that did nothing to alleviate my blindness in the past. The same sort of mindset that kept me oblivious to the truth. The very same approach that must have made me a superbly lively and entertaining mouse to the fat cat who was just toying with me.

At the same time, I did my best to keep hold of my optimism throughout all the difficult moments of last year. I believed, despite all indications to the contrary, that somehow I would find a way through. That somehow Dylan and I would be alright. That I'd be able to keep our home, and somehow find self-respect once again. That one day my confidence would return and that I may be able to earn a living using my skills as an executive coach. That one day I'd be able to look at myself in the mirror once again. Yes, I kept hold of those ideas even through overwhelming evidence that I was clearly kidding myself. No income. Debts. Injury. Who was I trying to convince...?

It's these very same attitudes of optimism, self-exploration and personal responsibility that made people perfect bait for the coldest most ruthless of sharks. Sharks who sneer at the pain of another and who thrive on confusion as they deliberately muddy the waters to disorientate their target even more. Pain and shame is what allows these sharks to win - and that's all they want to do. It's the only thing they know how to do. Anything else they pretend to be, is just that. Pretense. But for the rest of us, the 96% of the population who have a code of ethics, an emotional response, a conscience, we simply cannot comprehend that this kind of creature can exist among us. It simply will not sit in our frame of reference - even once pointed out. For even once the truth is laid bare, we will still struggle to come to terms with the fact that the person we thought of as being like this or like that is actually no more than a hollow shell. Automatically we will still revert back to our own feelings of guilt for some imaginary support we failed to provide. And that's what can make recovery such a slow and painful process.

But these feelings of pain and shame are what are driving me right now. And I must find the courage to work through them - honestly and in detail - so that I can make my story real for others. So that, perhaps, other people reading the book will finally be able to move through their own feelings and do something to help themselves. And in that way, then perhaps I've secured one more step forward in my battle to move in to the light - perhaps the very attitudes that led me blindly in to the lions den are going to be exactly the same attitudes to lead me through the darkness and out to salvation. Because when I take a step back to see what I've achieved by staying positive and (some would say) naively optimistic in the face of continued challenges, they seem to be working pretty well so far!

Top Banana is set up and I'm making all the right contacts to keep work coming in and growing the business - clients new and old are all poised to make this autumn a very busy time!
I've met all of my day-to-day financial obligations and paid every single bill on time - although sometimes I really don't know how!
The book is coming along nicely - and the plans becoming more audacious by the day!
Most importantly, though, Dylan is thriving on all levels - and is growing in to just the most wonderful young man, and cool and handsome to boot!
Plus, I've got more friends than I can ever remember, new as well as a raft of old friends now coming out of the wood work - I am rich indeed!

So yes, those very beliefs that made me an easy target are indeed the very same beliefs that are helping me to win through in the end. The difference is that now I know the difference. Now I know how to keep these feelings authentic. Now I know to trust even the smallest doubt and question even the slightest concern. I've discovered from recent experience that I can now spot a shark from a mile off - and I also know that they can never be tamed. So I won't even go in to the water to try. Instead I'll head off in the other direction without even a backwards glance.

Oh yes, indeed, pain and shame may be the winning game for sharks - but it will also be their downfall. Because it's taught me how to beat them at their own game. And soon, very soon, I'll be showing others how to do exactly the same. They ain't seen nothing yet..... Bring it on....!!!

Petit à Petit L'oiseau Fait Son Nid

2010-07-22T12:32:00.000+01:00

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... is one of my favourite French sayings. The literal translation is "a bird builds it's nest little by little" but the deeper meaning is more along the lines of "with time and perseverance goals can always be accomplished" - and that's where I am today. Finally my nest is coming together. And finally I am straightening out the little niggles that have been pecking at my conscience.

You see, things are falling in to place. Almost as if by magic. And it feels so good!

On a recent visit to the UK, for example, I had a magical time catching up with old friends I haven't seen in years. Derek on the Tuesday night for the first time in seven years, Greg on the Saturday for the first time in twenty, and Margaret and Bill, Tanya's parents, on the Sunday for the first time in three years. I've also deepened existing friendships - Victoria and I had a magical Friday evening together that lasted right through until gone 4am on Saturday culminating with an impromptu firewalk in her back yard. OK, it was only two steps, but we repeated it plenty of times!

In a couple of weeks I have another old friend from 20 years ago coming to stay. That same month I'm hooking up with a school friend who's visiting the UK, and in the beginning of September yet another old school friend I haven't seen since we were teenagers is also coming to visit here in France! Just last week I had the Princess and the Runner here to stay (you know who you are!) and it was fabulous - my friendships are getting stronger and stronger, and my life is enriched as a result.

And I'm also strengthening the relationship with myself each and every day - although I must admit it's not always easy. A couple of weeks ago, for example, I spent two days observing a 'training' event for the 250 top-tier leaders in a hugely successful UK PLC. It's the first in a series, and they had asked me to provide feedback on the event and help them to make the following planned events more successful. A great opportunity! But as I was observing the whole situation, I felt myself getting more and more uncomfortable with what I was witnessing. Double-speak, manipulation and bullying and at it's nastiest - because the delegates, the so-called valued leaders of this organisation, the very people the event was allegedly designed to help, ended up feeling that they were somehow at fault.

I heard the whispers and read the fearful thoughts that leaked through their behaviour and body language. "Perhaps I'm too stupid to understand the messages? Perhaps I shouldn't really be here? Perhaps I'm just being tested and singled out for the next round of culling?" It was nasty. Insidious. And I began to wonder to myself whether I was trapped inside the Matrix. Surely I wasn't the only one who could see beyond these masks of professionalism that the heavy-weight speakers and organisers were preaching as "openness" "honesty" and "one team"...? Or perhaps it's just that I'm now indelibly tarnished from my experiences with Mike - and my in-depth knowledge and appreciation of abusive behaviour. Perhaps I'm automatically seeing the baddie in everyone and everything?

My answers to these inner questions came in three different ways. Firstly, there was a consultant there at the event who had been working with this particular company for the previous eight months. We were sat together on the same table and we immediately bonded. She echoed my thoughts and concerns, and also shared more in-depth background on her own viewpoints over the time she's been working with these people. I felt delighted (and a little bit smug if truth be told) to discover that my observations over such a short space of time were exactly the same as hers after eight months involvement. Ha, so I haven't lost my touch then!

Secondly, as I was driving away from the event, I received a call on my mobile from the person who'd originally introduced me to the company. I'd worked with him some seven years earlier when he was with another organisation - the work had made a significant difference to him and his team, and he was keen to get me in to this place. Now I understood why. He explained to me his frustrations with the company, and how their unreasonable demands and relentless bullying had resulted in his breakdown a few months earlier. He stressed that he's not the only one, but that the culture is to keep your head down and do anything to survive the blows. That way of working goes totally against my grain, and I felt desperately sorry for these genuine people who were surely just being used and abused - empowerment was a joke, a word that the leaders were telling everybody they had to achieve (and berating those who didn't) but only so long as they remained in their box and 'did' empowerment as the leaders expected. Again, I'd seen all of that about the culture in a very short space of time - ha!

Thirdly, a great friend of mine (a very senior HR professional) gave me this simple comment when told about the horrors of this particular organisation: "Sounds like a client you don't want to be working with, however it reminded you how good you are. Cutting to the chase on the analysis issues so your team can deliver!"

So, the answer is no. No I'm not seeing horrors in everything. No it's not that I'm tainted. No I wasn't wrong. In fact I'd say that, on the contrary, I've become stronger and more accurate in my observations, and certainly more authentic in my responses. Because I sent this company a brief but honest feedback report on my observations, together with a short email stating that I'd happily go in to more detail as and when they chose to move forward with me - confident that they had no intention whatsoever of calling me back. Because, as I found out on the first morning, they already have a consultancy working with them, and they certainly don't need another. In fact I have no idea why I was invited in the first place - unless they thought they'd get a full-blown guidance report for free! The response came back as expected, that they thought the event was a huge success (of course) and they're taking my feedback on board as they plan the next events (because, actually, they don't want to change anything).

So, job done. Professional integrity in tact, safe escape from a toxic company, and a clearing of the pathway to make space for clients who really do want to make a positive difference.

And guess what? One such new client has immediately come in to play. Fun, forward-thinking, with clear integrity and a major passion for developing their people. Oh, and they're also worldwide with fantastic plans for the future. During the meeting we spoke the same language and shared the same passion. Now that's the kind of client I'm going to love working with and will happily give my all!

Petit a petit, petit a petit. What looks like a failure can be released in place of the hidden treasures that sit behind every situation. And, while it often feels as though I'm taking one step forward and two steps back, I know - I absolutely know - that little by little I'm making progress, and building solid foundations on which to create my new world.

Form E - Disclosure And Discovery

2010-07-17T03:20:00.001+01:00

These past two days have found me completing a complicated and (in my humble opinion) unnecessary 36-page form that apparently plays a critical role in my divorce. It's all about the money, you see. It seems it's the only way a marriage can actually be measured. The disclosure of financial circumstances that define the "pot" from which a judge will decide the appropriate division of assets. Except in my case, for reasons that I've explained before, there is no pot. There is just a gaping great big financial (and emotional) hole in the place of what I thought was a partnership built on love, trust and mutual respect.

I've already been called stupid, blind, delusional and all manner of other descriptives when it comes to my explanation of the car-crash of a mess that I find myself in since the discovery of how my estranged husband had been behaving behind my back. And seeing the contents of this particular form in black and white, well, I can understand how many people can believe that to be the case. In fact one of my trusted friends said exactly that to me just this week - in so many words anyway. She told me, with tears in her eyes that I need to "get real" and "take my head out of the sand". Harsh, but meant with the best of intentions. So I chose to listen.

And through listening, and biting my tongue on many occasions, I learned that actually I have been doing the best I can and I have been facing the problems head on. What I've clearly failed to do, however, is to understand and take on board the specific and process-driven language of the law. And along with that, the accepted approach that is expected in completing such a document that is destined for the eyes, opinion and ultimate judgement of the legal system. A way of being that I have to say I have very little faith in following the scarily contradicting advice I've received from numerous solicitors, debt advisors and other professional bodies from whom I've sought advice over the past year. Each one professing to have the solution. Each one promising me that this is the law. The way. The only solution.

It's been an eye-opening journey of discovery that has resulted in my conviction that it is up to me, and only me, to find a way through the maze of difficulties I've had to overcome since I discovered the email trail that told me beyond any doubt that my marriage was a sham. The absolute and irrefutable proof that I had pledged my love, commitment and (blind?) faith to someone who was prepared to not only lie and cheat, but who would also abandon me to a pack of money-starved wolves baying for my blood, without even a backwards glance.

So to be told by this trusted friend that I'd hidden my head in the sand for too many months and also advised that I need to "get a grip on reality" was a pretty hard pill to swallow. But then my interpretation of those words is only that. My interpretation. Perhaps it wasn't the intention. And that was the only reason that I listened. And I'm glad that I did.

Because through my friend's emotionless approach (don't get me wrong, she cares deeply for what's happened, but she was able to approach the task in a non-emotional way that was way beyond my capabilities) I learned that many of the things I wanted to say, in the way I wanted to say them, were in fact highly likely to go against me in a court of law. I learned that this form, this pain in the arse pile of paperwork that demands my total disclosure of the miserable and excruciatingly embarrassing financial situation that I'm in - along with the proof documents that would back up my confessions - could actually be the key to the clean break I'm seeking. That I'd be wise to rise above my emotions, distance myself from the perfectly justified fury I feel, and place the cold hard facts on the table. And all in such a way that a totally dispassionate judge might be able to grasp the whole situation and make a decision in my favour. I still cringe and fight about the idea that a judge might hold the power to give a verdict on what should or shouldn't be given or taken from me, but I'm having to learn that this is the law of our land. Ass or not, it's a constitution whose rules I need to understand so that I can do my best to let them work for me rather than against me.

And yet I'm tired. I'm all washed-up. The fight and the fury has gone. I've been placing every ounce of energy in to building a business so that I can get out of this mess. To re-build my self-esteem and re-create a business that works for me rather than against me. To create and live the life I've always wanted to live. On my own this time, yes, rather than with a life-partner. But still, to find myself in a place of peace where I can breathe, relax, enjoy life and truly relish every moment rather than fearing each letter that arrives in the post. Without dreading every 'out of area' phone call on my landline. Without holding my breath whenever there's the announcement of a new email on my laptop. It's no way to live - but it's been my way of life for over a year now.

So it has taken super-human strength for me to attack this task with the same level of professionalism I employ when I attack my work. Thoroughly. Accurately. With focus and determination. And with a goal to finish it faster than expected. And, together with the patient help and cajoling of my friend, it was all done and dusted by 5pm today. The t's are crossed and the i's are dotted. The only things still missing are the 12-months of bank statements, which are on the way. Job done. My entire marriage explained in black and white via a series of numbers and failures recorded on a ream of photocopy paper. Kinda sad, don't you think?

Did I happen to mention that at the same time, this week has seen the first major project for Top Banana? And did I also happen to mention that my trusted team carried out the project without me being there? No, I didn't think so.

Surely, then, I must have mentioned that this is a week where my sleep has been racked by unusually violent and disturbing nightmares. A week where my natural optimism seems to have taken flight, leaving fear and solitude in it's wake? A time where my eyes appear to have adopted oversized suitcases rather than the habitual bags, where my laughter has become hollow, and every smile brings with it the pricking threat of tears that might engulf me? Hmmm... perhaps not.

Well then that's good. Because I don't want to dwell on that. Because, despite or because of my friend's well intentioned warnings, I've discovered that I do know what I'm doing - and with her help and understanding, she's helped me find a way to explain the facts to a judge so that he or she will also agree that I've approached my challenges in an intelligent and honourable fashion. At least I hope so.

And now's the appropriate time to mention - no, to shout out loud and clear - that the project my team completed this week went down an absolute storm. I am so very proud of what they've achieved. And it was Mandy, an original Top Banana and the lead facilitator for this project, who put it all in to perspective. When I asked her what had made it so successful this week, she simply replied

"Because this time I could be me. And because Donna could be herself. And because between us all we could be even more than we ever were before"

This is what I'm learning as well. But you now what? Sometimes it's not easy being me. I'm not always nice. I don't always get it right. I can be annoying. I can be selfish. I can be delusional. Sometimes I'm downright oblivious to what's going on around me. But you know what? The intention is always positive. And I guess that's what I've got to learn about other people as well - yes, perhaps even the sociopaths among us. Well, actually, maybe that one will take a bit more time. But in the meantime, I know I'm doing my best - and if it ain't good enough for some people, well... so be it. But it's good enough for me right now. And I for one think that's a major step forward.

It Doesn't Get Much Better Than This!

2010-06-27T23:23:00.000+01:00

Image by Maddy Lou via Flickr

Yesterday afternoon found me paddling in the sea in Shoreham, finishing off a 99 Whippy ice cream with a very dear childhood friend I had lost touch with a number of years earlier. We’ve recently found each other through Facebook, and since then we’ve chatted online, written on each others walls, and exchanged messages. But yesterday was the first time we’d actually seen each other in the flesh for an unbelievable 20 years!

Greg and his wife are now not only parents to three grown up children, but also have two grandchildren as well.“How on earth did all that happen?” I asked as we effortlessly slotted back in to the warm and open friendship we had always shared. "I think it's called breeding" he replied, giggling and teasing me just as he used to in the olden days.

I first met Greg with my friend Tanya, back at the beginning of 1981. I remember the date because it was the first time that she’d come over from her home in Australia. Tanya, you’ll remember, had been my best friend since we met on the first day of my new school in Brighton when we were just nine years old. Both of us were naturally talented artists, and before our first encounter we had always been used to being top of our respective classes during art lessons.

So on that first day at school, when Miss Smythe announced we were to have an art lesson in the afternoon, I felt quietly confident that I could win some approval from my new classmates. I remember painting a marine scene, including ships, seagulls and the most tranquil of seas. It wasn’t my best, but I decided I was still getting a pretty good result and it was certainly better than the rest of my table. So I breathed a sigh of relief. I was alright then – my art would still be able to carry me through.

As I started to relax and allow a smile to work its way across my face, Tessa, a very tall gangly girl with over-sized gapped teeth and long wiry hair worn in long plaits to cover her ears, put her paintbrush down and tutted at me. “Tanya won’t be happy about that!” she’d said, causing me to prick up my ears and stop in my tracks. “Why not? And who’s Tanya?” I’d responded as Tessa looked past my shoulder and nodded.

I turned around to see a strikingly beautiful girl edging her way towards me. Her long brown hair was tied back in a high ponytail, accentuating her huge brown eyes and delicate features. She held her paintbrush in her hand and her head cocked to one side, one eyebrow raised as she looked me up and down. Circling each other like sharks, she finally moved to face me and gave a sideways glance at my work. “Hmmm…” she sniffed “It’s alright I suppose” her polite smile flashing a set of perfect white teeth before she flouced back to her table, flicking her ponytail and straightening her shirt on the way.

This was all being watched, of course, by the rest of the class. So I put down my paintbrush and went straight over to her table. “Let’s have a look at yours then!” I’d said, wearing my best smile. I’ve always found directness is the best approach, even when I’ve been scared. Her painting was very good – I was impressed, this could be fun! The fact was that I’d never found anyone who could match or challenge me at art, so that in fact I often felt embarrassed by my natural talent and would sometimes deliberately paint to less than my ability. So I saw that Tanya’s unquestionable skill could be a good thing for both of us. “It’s really good!” I’d said. And then added “Do you know I’ve already been learning French for a whole year – we started earlier in my old school” before giving another smile and turning back to my table.

That seemed to do the job. She smiled, nodded, and this was to mark the beginning of a deep friendship that survived her family’s emigration to Australia some five years later and eventually spanned nearly three decades until her untimely death.

So it was in January 1981 that she was staying with me in Sussex. We were both 16 by then, and were beginning to make the move from girls to women. Well, in truth, I was struggling with the transition while Tanya had embraced it wholeheartedly. She was already sophisticated and ladylike, while I on the other hand, was much more of a tomboy and certainly wasn’t very interested in boys! “Oh come on!” she’d implored one Saturday morning “You can’t look like a scarecrow all your life! Make yourself look pretty and let’s go out!”

So just a short while later there we were, dressed up, made up and looking cool, doing our very best posing by the swings at the local park. Two of the local lads seemed to take an interest and came up to chat with us. You'd be totally forgiven for assuming that we'd respond and engage them in conversation. But no. Not us. We were FAR too cool (and, I must admit, a little afraid!) to just have a straightforward conversation. We had our own code language, you see, which we'd use to share secrets in company without the need to whisper. So we started speaking in code, peppering the conversation with a few deliberately mis-pronounced English words, and had the boys believe that we came from Sweden. We even introduced ourselves using false names - Tanya was Bo and I was Jo - and we arranged to meet them the following evening. It was then that we admitted to the boys that we'd been having a joke and invited them to join us for a picnic to make amends.

Well, Greg was one of those boys. Kind, genuine and amused rather than offended by our teasing, we all instantly became friends and started to hang around together at every opportunity. We'd regularly meet up in our local pub, The Castle, where we'd sup on orange juice, learn how to play pool and jostle for attention and acceptance among our peer group.

Just three short weeks after that first meeting my mum died very suddenly. I was left an orphan and my life was changed for ever. We had to move out of our home to live with our guardians. Out of our home and 11 miles away from the thriving village community I'd only just discovered. And so Greg became part of the rich and colourful gang of friends who supported me and helped me through the next few difficult days, weeks, months and also years.

So, you see, we've seen a lot together, Greg and I. We decided early on that we should always stay as brother and sister, and to never ever be anything more than that, so that we could preserve our friendship and make it last for ever. And so that's the way it was. We could confide in each other about anything at all, and would spend hours discussing life and philosophy. His family also accepted me with open arms and, a couple of years in to our friendship, when my little sister and I were suddenly thrown out of our guardians' house less than a month after my eighteenth birthday, Greg was one of those who offered to have me come and live with his family.

The years went by, and life, careers and marriage got in the way, and slowly, somehow, he and I drifted apart. There was no specific occasion. Nothing happened. It was just one of those things that perhaps we took for granted. Something that can then fade away so slowly you don't even notice until it's too late.

So to find each other again after so many years was just magical! Making up for lost time, and remembering the innocent fun times we used to enjoy all those years ago, our first call was to hire a motorised pedalo at the seaside boating pond. Roaring with laughter as we scudded across the water I felt the years, fears and tears all melt away. The simple harmless joy of two adults behaving like children took centre stage from the unwelcome stresses and strains that have been my constant companions of late.

And so it was that we found ourselves, two middle aged people, fully clothed and up to our knees in the sea, eating our ice creams and engaged in animated conversations liberally peppered with guffaws and snorting laughter - much to the amusement of the swarm of children who continued to splash about and climb the rocks around us.

We shared our stories, our ups as well as our downs, and marveled at the similarly parallel paths our lives had taken. I'd forgotten just how much I used to enjoy Greg's company, and how I'd always appreciated his straight forward approach and simple words of wisdom. Experience has taught us both many things, and at certain times could have crippled either of us it would seem - yet the essence of who we were back then has remained. I choose to explore things deeply and in my own way so I can learn and develop through difficult situations. Greg puts it this way:

"Life's like this I reckon. You can wake up in the morning, see a beautiful flower and smile. Then spend the next few hours analysing how it came to be, and thereby ruin the rest of your day. It's not difficult is it? I find moments when I can sit back, enjoy the moment, and say to myself - 'it doesn't get much better than this!' - and that's all there is to it!"

On the way back, we decided to drop in to The Castle, the pub we all used to frequent during our teenage years and early twenties. We sat in the back garden nursing our drinks, and once again sharing memories and updating each other with stories about the people we used to know back then. We covered happy, sad, uplifting, poignant and downright tragic accounts of what had happened to members of the old village gang.

"Like I said, life's pretty straightforward really" said Greg, after an amusing but sad anecdote about one of the lads who at the time we all thought was the coolest dude in the area "I know that success isn't about the money anymore. I don't know exactly what it IS about, but I do know it's about feeling happy"

We left the pub and as we got back into his van Greg suddenly made an announcement.

"Mel, you KNOW you're on the right track and everyone else knows you CAN do this - the only person left to properly convince is yourself"

I smiled, tears of gratitude pricking my eyes as I squeezed my old friend's shoulder while we drove away from The Castle.

"Hey, you know what?" I thought to myself "It doesn't get much better than this!"

Welcome Home...

2010-06-23T12:04:00.001+01:00

Image by Clover_1 via Flickr

It’s started. It’s happening now. I’ve woken up this morning with Peters and Lee and an entire gospel chorus in my head singing “Welcome home, welcome, come on in and close the door" (well, it’s a welcome change to those flaming Munchkins and Dorothy’s motley crew, I can tell you!)

Since Sunday, you see, I’ve had the most uncomfortable pain in my guts. Never had anything like it before. In fact, I always pride myself in having the constitution of an ox – now where on earth does that saying come from eh? But no, I’ve had a twisting, pushing, tightening most unpleasant feeling going on as though I have something stuck in my stomach. Just below my ribcage, above my naval - undigested food perhaps, or trapped wind (well, yes, there are those who would say I'm full of hot air!)

But I've decided it's something else. And yup, for anyone remotely familiar with the chakras, all this is happening around my Solar Plexus Chakra, which governs personal power, ego, physical energy and self-identity. Aahhh... self-identity indeed.... well - no surprises there then eh?

The colour associated with it is yellow (very Top Banana) and the suggested meditation to clear and open this particular chakra is to visualise a yellow orb filling the area with healing yellow light (just exactly as the business is growing and attracting more clients).... hhhmmmm..... perhaps there are indeed methods in these madnesses I've been experiencing over the past couple of weeks?

Something weird happened on Monday you see, another quite extraordinary coincidence. And I'm getting the message loud and clear that I am indeed guided and supported in life - and that there's a far bigger story going on than I could ever begin to imagine.

Because on Monday I received an email out of the blue from someone I met seven years ago when I was in Australia for my friend Lindsey's wedding (her sister was Tanya, my best friend from childhood who had died a couple of years earlier). I was only there for a few days, and whilst there I met Derek, their cousin, who'd flown over from the UK as a surprise to the family. It was at the time when I was trying to settle in to our new life in France and still reeling from Mike's first betrayals. Derek seemed to be experiencing similar challenges at the time, and very quickly he and I just clicked. We were only there together for a couple of days, but we took every possible opportunity to chat, often through to the wee small hours, sharing our confusion in the hope we could both make some sense of our parallel circumstances. It was a magical and cathartic experience in a time of great uncertainty, and I know that both of us felt a positive connection.

We emailed a couple of times after that, but we both had our own lives to lead. Mike was also a very jealous person, and any contact from an unknown male was not tolerated - the irony is not lost on me, although I now recognise it as typically controlling behaviour in an abusive relationship. So, while there was nothing to hide, it seemed easier just to let things drift. And that's the way things stayed. Until Monday.

The email was titled "Simply Hi" and it appears Derek had decided to clear out some old connections on a business website, following an email prompt at the weekend. Something which, he added, he would normally have just deleted - but for some reason he didn't. I responded, and a few emails later we'd arranged to meet up for dinner the following day (last night). The coincidences here are really quite uncanny:

Derek lives in Nottinham and my flight took me in to East Midlands, an airport I never normally use.
I'd mistakenly booked my flight a day early, meaning that I had a free evening
Tanya and Lindsey's parents (his aunt and uncle) are over from Australia for the first time in four years and both of us are due to see them in the next week or so
Plus, of course, the original fact that he didn't just automatically delete the reminder email in the first place

So at 7pm we met at the hotel reception and drove out for dinner in a country pub - both of us commenting on the peculiar set of circumstances that had led us to this point. And you know what? Those seven years just melted away and we chatted away and laughed together like old friends - even though we've both experienced major changes since Australia. Like me, Derek left his partner. It was a few years ago and he's now much happier and in a healthy relationship with a lady who looks very beautiful in the photographs he showed me. He seems younger, fitter, settled and much more confident than how I remembered him. He explained how so much had changed for him, and told me all about the way he now lives his life. He just oozed an air of contentment and I was delighted to see my old friend so happy in his own skin. It gave me hope that I, too, can one day find the same level of happiness.

And more than that, I learned a lot more last night. Because I felt safe chatting with him. So I knew I could share anything and he would not judge or criticise. And I allowed myself to accept his compliments and reassurances. My barriers now gone, as you know, it actually felt good to share what's happening, together with my deepest expressions of hope - and doubt - at the transformations I'm experiencing in my life. It was OK to say that I'm feeling really tired. It was OK as well to say that in another way I'm energised as a new (or, actually, very old and forgotten) part of me comes to life. It was OK to explain there are still many battles to face, and also OK to express my delight at the way my life is coming in to shape. It was OK as well to confess that, while I'm scared about all sorts of things I'm putting in to place with the business right now, I'm also confident that the service I'll be delivering will be countless times better than the stuff I used to do before. It was also OK to say that right now I feel like curling up for a while and allowing myself to be looked after. To be nurtured and spoiled by someone. To give up the fight and just let go for a while. Perhaps I can do that next week when I get back home?

You see, last night I didn't have to protect myself. I didn't have to impress. I wasn't on show. I could speak freely and truthfully. I could express my fears, as well as my hopes - and the achievements I'm proud of, without sounding boastful. For here in front of me was a man without an agenda. A man who just cared and who was prepared to listen. A man I met briefly and connected with all those years ago and who now, I'm certain, will remain a close friend and ally perhaps for the rest of my life.

And I truly feel that the inner battle is now subsiding, and that gentleness is taking it's place. This morning the pain in my guts has released. I'm feeling centered once again. I'm sensing a new expression building within me - an energy that is opening my heart and pumping life through my veins. It's as though the old shell, the fortress I had built is finally crumbling, and even the foundations are shifting. The tiredness and exhaustion came from resistance - because that castle took a long long time to build and it sure didn't want to be moved. But now it's happening. And in it's place the green shoots of a new paradise are forming.

In my mind's eye I can see the green meadows ahead of me. I can smell the blossom on the trees. I can feel the sun on my back and the wind in my hair as I run barefoot through my new home. I am finding my freedom at last. I am free to be me.

The fortress was very cleverly constructed, you see, although it's only now that I can appreciate that fact. For it was designed so that I could watch through the windows and learn the harsh lessons of life from a position of safety. It meant I could protect myself from lasting harm - the ever-increasing barriers and growing army of soldiers made sure of that. And as I learned and watched, I grew. But I grew safely. Warm and secure in my own castle.

But now I know. Now I'm ready. I no longer need the protection of my castle nor of my armies, for I am well equipped myself.

But you know what? I have no need to fight anymore. For what I have now, that no castle or army of soldiers could ever have, is pure love in my heart, trust in my soul and hope in my spirit. A deep and innocent love that was locked away so many years ago. One that, perhaps, would have remained locked away had I not experienced the past few months - once again, I thank you Mike for creating this opportunity. It would appear that your betrayal and deception have served me well.

The castle has gone. The little girl is free. She may stumble and fall along the way, but she'll get right back up again and she's gonna have so much fun along the way!

You know what? Top Banana and Mel Pledger were pretty damned good back then - but as for now... well... just hold on to your hats cos the adventure hasn't even started yet!

Mel is dead. Long live Mel. "You've been gone, too long, welcome, you're home once more!"

The Mouse That Squeaked

2010-06-19T11:42:00.000+01:00

Image by Bascom Hogue via Flickr

...because I sure don't feel like roaring. I'm scared, you see. Don't get me wrong... I'm not scared of what's happened - nor of the battles I know are ahead of me or the constant waves of challenges that face me on a daily basis.

No - I'm not afraid of those, because I've faced things like that before. You see I know how to deal with them. I know how to be. I know how to act. I know what's expected. I know how to get through. So no, I'm not afraid of those.

But there is something else that is building. Something else that is gathering strength. Becoming real. Demanding attention. Developing an identity. Something I have ignored - or perhaps been all too acutely aware of - for longer than I care to remember.

And now this thing. This energy. This entity (is it any wonder I was so terrified at the film Poltergeist for goodness sake?) seems now to be demanding space. It's gathering form. Sound. Expression. And suddenly, those around me are echoing its very essence. Which frightens me. Because it tells me that this internal fear... this hidden doppelganger... this hideous nightmare that lives within me is about to be exposed and exorcised.

Bloody hell. I am about to be in the position where I HAVE to face my fears - whatever they might be. And you know what? I KNOW what they are. Perhaps we all do. I don't know. I DO know, however, that with each passing experience. Each month. Each year. Each day. Each living moment... I know I'm moving closer to freedom I've craved for so long. And I also know that this particular fear is the one that's most debilitating.

Because I've discovered through this long journey, that the one thing that I have allowed to hold me back, the one fear that I've so far failed to overcome, the one thing that I'm actually afraid of.... is.... me!

I've realised I've spent so many years protecting myself - starting with the first time my world shattered when I was just four years old and gaining more and more strength with each additional body-blow, that I've forgotten who the real Melanie is. And over the past year or so as each of my barriers have been falling down (well, annihilated would be a more accurate description - with a full demolition gang and explosives in actual fact) well then the real me has been getting closer and closer to the surface. And I'm now at the point of no return, because the little vulnerable me that has been buried away for so long will no longer be ignored. It's her time now. She's gaining strength and is demanding to be noticed.

And I'm scared. Because I don't know who she is. I don't even know whether I'll like her. I don't know whether she'll like ME either. And I don't know how she's going to impact on my life, and what new changes it will mean. Because surely this is indeed the herald of yet more change.

I had built her a castle you see. A fortress. To keep her safe and protect her from harm. I trained the best soldiers to fight for her, and dug the deepest widest moat to keep harm away. And it worked very well. People admired the strength and beauty of the castle I'd built - it's served me well and I've been perfecting it for over 40 years. But now it's crumbling, and now the princess, my precious little girl who lives inside, wants to come out and live in the real world. And I cannot stop her - and I'm scared.

I'm scared in case she's not ready. In case it's too soon. In case she gets hurt - or worse. How will she survive?

I'm scared because I think she may feel I've abandoned her. That I've betrayed her trust. I worry that although I locked her away so long ago for her own safety, she might be very angry with me. She might be furious in fact! Do you think she'll ever forgive me? I don't know...

And I don't know how to welcome her either. I don't know how to let her in - or let her out. And I don't know where to turn. I just know that the increasing restlessness within my soul, the physical churning in my stomach and the constant electrical fizzing in my mind means that the time is near when I can no longer put off the inevitable.

My friends know what's happening - I can sense it in the way they're responding to me. The little nudges forward, the reassurances that I'm on the right track, together with the exploration of new connections - deepening of existing friendships and the influx of new ones. They are all guiding me forwards. For they are now my army of soldiers.

So now I must give up my castle. I must walk forwards, move free from the rubble and trust that this new world is ready for me.

I'm scared. But I'm doing it. Please catch me if I fall.

Bedknobs, Broomsticks and Bambi

2010-06-18T12:15:00.002+01:00

Image by sirwiseowl via Flickr

(I wrote this as I was waiting in the airport before catching my flight to the UK)

It’s been one of those weeks where I’ve felt emotionally and physically exhausted. Drained. Nothing left. My last post might perhaps have given some small clues as to my state of mind – imaginary Munchkins, Wizards and Tin Men have all been ‘the norm’ in my daily life of late. Popping up at the most peculiar moments, reminding me that perhaps I haven’t got everything sorted – that all may not be as it seems. They seem to be goading me to reassess my decisions. To check my chosen pathway, as well as the method by which I am travelling along my very own yellow brick road.

Just the other morning, for example, as I absent-mindedly opened the fridge to look for the sugar (yup, I told you I am tired!) I was greeted by Dorothy’s mocking Scarecrow, his head tilted to one side and finger-waggling “Hmmm… intelligence, it would seem, comes in all forms. So do you REALLY think your brain’s working properly, Mel? Do you really think you’re capable of running a successful business?”

And then a few hours later, screeching in shock as an enormous spider scuttled from a crack in the stone wall and over my desk to trap a fluttering moth, I heard the Lion right behind me “Put em up! Put em up! I can fight it with both hands behind my back! You think you’ve done it all, do you? We’ve only just begun, Mel – so where’s your metal?” I might have made it through the past year and a bit and now the business is really taking off – but do I REALLY have the strength to keep my cool… to see things through… to really succeed and live the life of my dreams?

And as for having a heart… well… I’ve even had times when I’ve doubted that as well over the past few days. “Let go!” “Let it be!” “Trust!” “You DO deserve the best!” have all been the kindly reassurances from friends and family who know the ridiculous emotional turmoil I’ve created for myself at the moment, through nothing at all but my own vivid imagination. “So you think they’re all going to be the same do you? Perhaps you need to open your heart to find the good again before you blind yourself forever and never recover” says the Tim Man, a tear forming in his eye as he contemplates my plight.

And all the time those bloody Munchkins are reminding me that there’s no way back. That I have to continue. That there’s light at the end of the tunnel. That I’ve started so I must finish – and all those other glib clichés that at times, frankly, really piss me off!

Because for the past few days, wherever I’ve gone, whatever I’ve done, I’ve been struggling to find peace. The Harpies of last year seem to have been circling again. The thunder has been rumbling in the background. And the air has been hanging heavy with the invisible threat of danger. And so the self-torture has gone on. And on. And on.

And you know what? I’ve KNOWN that I’m doing it. And I’ve also known that I’ve been doing it even as things are continuing to get better! I’ve been slapping down my successes, questioning their validity and doubting my achievements! How utterly crazy is that?

Last year I could easily have forgiven myself for sleepless nights and a crazy haze of despair. After all, I had real-life battles to fight. I had to survive. Fight my way through an ever increasing set of threats to my very existence. So yes, it would have been perfectly OK to feel this way – then. But now I've made it through - I've survived. And that’s the point. It would have been OK then, but it’s NOT OK now. How very dare I feel this way now?

Ha. And there it is. The self-critical button. The key that sets the cycle off once again.

Because, real or not, the battles I’m now facing are inner battles. Inner questions based on the massive progress I’ve made. The ‘gap’ if you like between what I’ve achieved through pushing on regardless, and the truth of a depleted self-worth that questions whether I will actually be able to carry it off. See it through. Deliver on promises. Or will I fall and let everyone down and, therefore, prove my critics right?

Is this what it’s like to suffer from post traumatic stress disorder? I don’t know. But I do know that whatever it is, it’s really quite debilitating – far more so than the real battles I’ve faced and won. Because now the enemies are invisible. Now the threats are in my imagination. They taunt me in my sleep. They creep inside my head. They make my skin itch and my tummy turn somersaults.

And I’ve had enough. So today I’ve changed. Today I’ve stated my boundaries. Today I’ve said “STOP!” And I’ve meant it.

Driving to the airport I’ve been listening to some old tracks by Joni Mitchell. When I drove away from the village (leaving Dylan at home and in charge with just the pets for company – a whole new level of trust and maturity for both of us, I can tell you!) it was raining. But as I continued north on the RN10, singing along with Joni about a Big Yellow Taxi, the skies started to clear and the sun came through.“Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone” we sang, as the cars whooshed and skated over the rain drenched road, throwing up rainbows in front of me.

I looked up to the blue sky and noticed a cloud formation that almost stopped me in my tracks. Of course it was totally subjective, but to me, the clouds were making the shape of a huge kneeling fawn – right there in front of me. It was facing sideways, a huge watchful eye shaped by a hole in the formation through which shone a patch of bright blue sky – clear, strong and most certainly intending me to take notice.

Instantly I was transported back in my childhood. Back with both my parents, in the home I loved, basking in the safety of the love and warmth of my family. You see, when I was a small child, I had a small china Bambi ornament. And I believed that this ornament was magic. I would explain to mum and dad (and anyone else who cared to listen) that it could move of it’s own accord – if only we all shut our eyes and believed it to be true. I would demonstrate this as often as possible, carefully placing my Bambi in the middle of the room and urging everyone to cover their eyes. After a count of 10 – sometimes 20 – we would all open our eyes and the Bambi would have disappeared. It was magic!

We would all then search for it, for it would always have found a hiding place. I remember the look of love and indulgence that my Mum and Dad would give me – of course they were behind the “magic” all the time, but to me it was totally real.

One day Bambi went missing. I was convinced it had gone and hidden of it’s own accord, but Mum kept telling me that this time, perhaps, it had gone for good. I would not believe it, and explained my certainty that it would turn up. “Oh, Melanie” she’d say “you are always such an optimist!” I was quite intrigued by that – I wasn’t sure what it meant, but I was pretty sure it was something quite important!

And sure enough, one day, I found my Bambi buried in the gravel on the driveway. Perfectly unharmed. Perfectly whole. And perfectly magic. Triumphant, I took it in to show Mum “Look! Look! I told you Bambi would come back! You see, the magic IS real!”

And today, just by seeing the deer in the cloud formation, I was immediately showered with the same feelings of love, safety and warmth that I remember as a small child before everything changed. Today I felt that love all over again. Today, it’s clear to me that the magic is alive and well.

Because it never had anything to do with either Bambi or my parents’ well-intentioned interventions. No. The real magic was the love that I felt. And today I feel it again. The same today as it was then. I’d just forgotten it, that’s all.

But the love, the magic, exists beyond time and reason – and now that I’m letting it in again, well the magic can begin again. Away with the thought demons, the magic of love is alive and well – and back in my life for good this time.

There's No Place Like Home

2010-06-07T20:41:00.000+01:00

Image by juliecampbell via Flickr

Right at this moment, Dorothy's famous chant is echoing in my head - together with a whole heap of recognitions and a flood of emotions. Surprising ones. Strong ones. Some that a few months ago I would have labelled 'negative' and others that I choose now to label 'liberating'.

The road to Oz is indeed a strange journey fraught with surprises, dangers, reality-checks and realisations along the way. My yellow brick road is still winding out in front of me - still beckoning, inviting, and even daring me to continue. And continue I will for there is no going back. But at this particular moment in time it seems to me that I have a little bit of the Lion, Tin Man and Scarecrow not as companions, but rather within me - as a part of me.

The Lion thinks he's a coward - and while I certainly don't apply that name to myself, there are times when my courage sometimes seems to have walked away. Or, at least have taken a back seat. Then there's the Scarecrow who calls himself stupid. OK, I don't exactly call myself stupid. But I do sometimes find myself doing stupid things, quite often as a direct result of my courage or the "push the limit" part of my nature. Danger, sometimes, holds an almost irresistible pull. In my old life I would have gone there without a thought. In my real life (life since Mike) I believe I'm much more aware of what I'm doing, and apply plenty of questions, rules and rationales before making a decision. "And anyway" I remind myself, "I know what I'm doing - this is a perfectly conscious decision, so all is well!"

You know what, though? Sometimes it isn't all well. Most times there's no need to even consider pushing limits in the first place. And this is where my Tin Man takes shape. He believed he didn't have a heart. Well, sometimes I wonder whether my heart is actually functioning properly. Yes I love with depth and with passion. Yes I nurture with honestly and openness. Yes I listen with interest and compassion. So yes, it's there - I clearly have the capacity to feel. But the automatic response for these positive feelings seems to be exclusively reserved for other people. Because sometimes there seems to be a lack of love respect and understanding for myself - it's tons better than it was but it's not yet automatic.

And the Scarecrow? Well... he's a funny one. More elusive than the rest in many ways. I trust my brainpower. I believe in my ability to solve problems, find solutions, learn new information and communicate all of this effectively. So it seems that the Scarecrow is perhaps my friend. And yet... there are times when I absolutely prove to myself that I really should not be allowed out on my own. I forget directions. I read information incorrectly. In fact just last week I boldly knocked at a strangers door believing it to be the same place I visited just a couple of weeks earlier - and when they said they hadn't heard of the person I was looking for, I honestly thought they were joking with me!

So the Scarecrow's fears seem to creep up just when I'm least expecting them. And perhaps... perhaps... it's my intelligence I'm pushing to the limit. Perhaps it's my thinking ability I'm choosing to test, because at a core level it's a quality I'm pretty confident about. And then... and then... just by stating that peculiarly unique way of thinking out loud, surely it actually demonstrates the warped workings of my brain....? I think I'm not the only one, though - remember Furniture's song Brilliant Mind?

And through all of this those Munchkins continue to mock me. "Follow the yellow brick road!" they taunt from below knee-level. Their gaudy costumes, grimaces masquerading as smiles, and sing song voices that tease and cajole creating a primal fear within me that warns me to pull away. A sudden memory of Mia Farrow in Rosemary's Baby tells me to stop. Take stock. Trust my instincts. The brain's trying to tell me something!

But no. Because I think I'm lacking in courage I carry on regardless. Because I think I'm lacking in compassion I forgive my tormentors their hideous appearances and instead choose to look for the message they're bringing. And so I carry on even though my instincts and compassion tell me I really don't need to be doing this - and in the process I manage to prove to myself that I am indeed lacking something "up top". I'm not the full picnic. The lights are on but there's no-one there. Pah! The Wicked Witch of The West is clearly still working her magic - or perhaps Derren Brown just tricked us in to believing she was squashed by the falling house? Did we imagine the whole thing....?

Damn those bloody little people! There IS no Wizard of Oz - there never ever has been! I just need to recognise my bravery and stick with my instinctive thoughts. I need to trust my ability to love, and turn it on myself - and lovingly keep myself away from danger and flourish in safety. And I need to trust my own intelligence. I AM good at what I do. I AM on the right track. I AM moving in to the life of my dreams.

So how come I continue to test myself? How come I continue to place myself in the line of fire? And how come, when things really are coming together, I allow the chants of those bloody annoying small people to goad me and knock my belief? Those god-damned little Munchkins are now jigging up and down with glee - their voices louder, their grimaces wider. Thriving on my critical self-analysis. Questions, Mel, think of the questions you're asking yourself... be gentle, be caring, and remember the magic affirmation "There's no place like home!"

There's no need to click your heels my girl - you're already here... just KNOW it and stop testing yourself OK?