A few days ago my tip jar was stolen. Actually, it was a vase. A large vase that once held my sister's wedding bouquet. I brought it into the bakery to replace our old tip jar (which was a fish bowl) because people could reach in and take money off the top easily. We figured something vase shaped would prevent the sticky fingers.
It did. Instead, the 6' 4" petty thief just hid the whole vase (and the $25 in it) in his oversize coat, and took off. He was actually pretty stupid: he talked to me for a long time to get me comfortable, so now I would know him anywhere, and, WE HAVE CAMERAS EVERYWHERE IN THE STORE. Caught you, bastard!
Anyway, the point is not the theft, it's the aftermath. Of course I was in shock, angry, disappointed. I blamed myself. It's not my fault... the smoke detector had been going of for, minutes really, but it felt like hours. On top of that, I'd had a steady stream of people and couldn't turn off the smoke detector. Also, the detector was telling me that there was Carbon Monoxide in the store. (There wasn't, it was a faulty battery.) I was the perfect, scattered-stressed-out target.
Still, I felt like I could have done something more. That's the way it is. Once you have blamed yourself/ been blamed for the big betrayals, you tend to blame yourself for ALL betrayals. And you tend to think that everyone else will blame you to.
But I work at a wonderful place. A place where I am respected, and honestly, protected. No one even entertained a thought that I had any culpability in the theft. My boss and co-workers were concerned for me. Angry for me. We went over security tapes together. And everyone expressed genuine care and concern. I felt enveloped in compassion and love.
I have finally learned how to surround myself with people who are healthy for me. In work. In personal relationships. And so, in a way, I thank the petty thief, because now I see how wonderful the other people in my life are.
It's the little not-so-little things.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Friday, April 20, 2012
Where There is Courage
What I truly wish, is that I had no need of a day job at this time. That I just had hours upon hours of day to spend working creatively: not only here, on this blog, but also on the numerous other projects and endeavors that I have my little hands in. Oh, for innumerable hours to exercise my body, mind, and spirit. Oh, for the time to turn those exercises into tiny morsels of truth spilling out into poetry, children's books, my novel and my music.
That time will come as I practice the patience and perseverance needed to turn my every I wish into an everyday facet of life. I believe that I am on the path to being a self-sustaining artist. I will use my many talents to forge the kind of life I want to live. I will work for myself instead of others. I will inspire.
Right now, life is a little complicated. I have been reticent in admitting to myself that working on this blog is a little hard on my psyche. It pushes old buttons and uncovers secrets I had hidden from myself. It is a brave and noble work; a work I hope will be a help and a comfort to others who are taking a similar journey. This does not mean it will be easy. Quite to the contrary, it means that it will be a difficult undertaking much of the time. All things worth doing are.
The other day I was completely out of sorts. Everything was wrong. Having roommates was annoying. Having a job was annoying. Working out was annoying. Not working out was annoying... You get the picture! (I'm sure you've had those days yourself!)
My wonderful roommate and best friend of years is not one to let me wallow in these things. She makes me talk it out. "What are the exact feelings you are feeling?" Anger, sadness, frustration, disillusion. "Why do you think you are feeling that way? What is at the bottom of those feelings?" I don't know. (My standard answer, which usually means: I sort of know but am unwilling to admit/ say at this time.) "When did you start feeling like this?" When I started this blog. (And the tears start.) (But honestly, when are there not tears with me?!)
As I rode the train into the city to go to work, I thought more about this conversation. K had gone on to ask me to think about what this blog meant for others. How it might help, and how I always spoke about how I wanted to help others who had faced harrowing trauma in their childhood.
This is always a good place to start. The desire to help others is noble. It takes us away from our pain. Away from the past and into the present. It multiplies the quantities of love that we are putting out into the universe. It extends us beyond ourselves, into the beautiful collective of souls that make up our mental picture of 'other'.
But I realized that this is not enough. I have to do this writing for myself. It's another step toward loving myself fully, and only when I love me fully will I be able to love you fully as well. I have to vocally acknowledge what my history is. A history that is sometimes dark and sometimes gloriously beautiful. And as I acknowledge and shed light on all the dark corners of my past, I make my present stronger. More solid.
More real.
There is a tendency in abuse survivors to see everything as unreal. The world around is a strange and unsafe place that can change at the whim of others who are physically stronger and more powerful. Those with this power can seem like strange figments of dream: sometimes kind and loving, then changing without forewarning into a monster with fangs and claws. Even the body seems to be a bit of a mirage. It is a toy to played with at the whims of others. It reacts in ways contrary to the survivors wishes. It finds pleasure mixed in with immeasurable pain. The body betrays, others betray, and reality betrays.
Since there is no set reality, the survivor (in this case me), retreats into themself. Into a world of make-believe, where they control the outcome. This is how they can endure abuse at the hands of those who should love them, and still go to school/church/dance class/camp and seem ok, albeit probably a little socially awkward.
For me, I retreated so far into this alternate reality that many pieces of the truth of my life were broken off and buried deep within the subconscious. I fragmented. My mind split into many smaller 'me's'. I would lose time... "wake up" in the middle of a conversation or class and fake my way through like I knew what was being said before. And the pieces of my history I couldn't live with got lost for a long time. I would have strange fuzzy memories that had no context. Memories that had key people and events veritably "blacked out". I thought everyone worked like this and I didn't worry about. In fact, I would have told you I had the best memory in the world.
And then one day, on the One train, on the way to my student job at the Theatre Arts academy I was attending, I had my first real flashback. It was Sunday, a week before labor day... I was 24. It started with a smell. The smell of sweat and car grease and stale heat. I slipped into a memory that had always confused me and made me slightly sick. A memory of my cousins chasing me across their backyard with a broom, cornering me on the edge of their deck, holding me in place with the broom across my chest. I was about 5... they were teenagers. It was Christmas or Thanksgiving and I was wearing a dress. "If you tell, we'll push you off." Off the deck and down the steep embankment behind their house. (I had always wondered, "Tell what?") My Daddy had come out and seen them and made a show of rescuing me by pretending to knock their heads together. Or maybe he really did knock their heads together; he was very angry.
And then the memory rewound, past the beginning I had known all those years, to a new beginning. To playing under the big tree in the backyard. My cousins want to play with me, and since they usually treat me like the biggest annoyance in the world, I am elated. They want to play 'Legend'. I don't like that movie, except for the unicorns, but I saw on their TV earlier that there are devils too. Mommy said it's a bad movie. But I say ok, and I get to be the princess. And it's fun... Until it isn't, and they hurt me in a private place. And that's when I ran.
When it all came back, I thought it was a strange imagination. It haunted me. It made me sick. I felt like I was in shock. But I also felt that it could not really be true, even though something in me was sure that it was. I went to Target that night with K, and I told her a little about the experience. I didn't know it was a flashback. I thought I was making it up, or going crazy.
The next day the tears began. I had been depressed for a long time, but this was different. It was like I was drowning. I could not function at school... I could not function at all. And while a part of me continued to feel like I was making it all up, deep inside I knew. I had a secret history, and I could no longer deny it. The day after labor day I quit school. Though I didn't know it then, I was beginning the most important journey of my life. My healing journey.
And this blog, I now realize, may be the most important step on that journey so far. It is the place where that little girl who was scared into silence can have a voice. It is a place to explain to so many why the expressions of a hidden pain I played out may have caused me to inadvertently hurt them.
It is a place that makes it all worth it.
I wouldn't trade my history for anyone else's. Oh, I have wished at times that it didn't happen... That damaged people didn't do so much damage to the innocent little girl that I was. But now I have a chance to turn it around. To join in the battle to stop abuse by speaking out. To be the one who says the pattern ends here. The abuse ends here.
If you have endured any type of abuse in your life, this entry is dedicated to you. Your journey is long and sometimes hard, and you are the only person who can take it. You, alone. But there is hope. If you stop running from the fear and the anger. If you turn around and face those monsters that chase you, you can fight. You can defeat them. It will take a lifetime... It will take a single moment. You are already stronger than you know, because you survived what the worst of humanity threw at you and you're still going. Remember, if that little child you were could persevere, then you can to.
You have a friend in me, and the many others out there who have stood where you are.
And if you are not a survivor, then you know one. And you can be the support to them that K has been to me. (She has survived her own story too, but I think everyone has, in one way or another.) If we all work together, we can be a community of strength. We can change the present of those who are hurting and offer them a hopeful future.
All it takes is a little courage... And a whole lot of love.
That time will come as I practice the patience and perseverance needed to turn my every I wish into an everyday facet of life. I believe that I am on the path to being a self-sustaining artist. I will use my many talents to forge the kind of life I want to live. I will work for myself instead of others. I will inspire.
Right now, life is a little complicated. I have been reticent in admitting to myself that working on this blog is a little hard on my psyche. It pushes old buttons and uncovers secrets I had hidden from myself. It is a brave and noble work; a work I hope will be a help and a comfort to others who are taking a similar journey. This does not mean it will be easy. Quite to the contrary, it means that it will be a difficult undertaking much of the time. All things worth doing are.
The other day I was completely out of sorts. Everything was wrong. Having roommates was annoying. Having a job was annoying. Working out was annoying. Not working out was annoying... You get the picture! (I'm sure you've had those days yourself!)
My wonderful roommate and best friend of years is not one to let me wallow in these things. She makes me talk it out. "What are the exact feelings you are feeling?" Anger, sadness, frustration, disillusion. "Why do you think you are feeling that way? What is at the bottom of those feelings?" I don't know. (My standard answer, which usually means: I sort of know but am unwilling to admit/ say at this time.) "When did you start feeling like this?" When I started this blog. (And the tears start.) (But honestly, when are there not tears with me?!)
As I rode the train into the city to go to work, I thought more about this conversation. K had gone on to ask me to think about what this blog meant for others. How it might help, and how I always spoke about how I wanted to help others who had faced harrowing trauma in their childhood.
This is always a good place to start. The desire to help others is noble. It takes us away from our pain. Away from the past and into the present. It multiplies the quantities of love that we are putting out into the universe. It extends us beyond ourselves, into the beautiful collective of souls that make up our mental picture of 'other'.
But I realized that this is not enough. I have to do this writing for myself. It's another step toward loving myself fully, and only when I love me fully will I be able to love you fully as well. I have to vocally acknowledge what my history is. A history that is sometimes dark and sometimes gloriously beautiful. And as I acknowledge and shed light on all the dark corners of my past, I make my present stronger. More solid.
More real.
There is a tendency in abuse survivors to see everything as unreal. The world around is a strange and unsafe place that can change at the whim of others who are physically stronger and more powerful. Those with this power can seem like strange figments of dream: sometimes kind and loving, then changing without forewarning into a monster with fangs and claws. Even the body seems to be a bit of a mirage. It is a toy to played with at the whims of others. It reacts in ways contrary to the survivors wishes. It finds pleasure mixed in with immeasurable pain. The body betrays, others betray, and reality betrays.
Since there is no set reality, the survivor (in this case me), retreats into themself. Into a world of make-believe, where they control the outcome. This is how they can endure abuse at the hands of those who should love them, and still go to school/church/dance class/camp and seem ok, albeit probably a little socially awkward.
For me, I retreated so far into this alternate reality that many pieces of the truth of my life were broken off and buried deep within the subconscious. I fragmented. My mind split into many smaller 'me's'. I would lose time... "wake up" in the middle of a conversation or class and fake my way through like I knew what was being said before. And the pieces of my history I couldn't live with got lost for a long time. I would have strange fuzzy memories that had no context. Memories that had key people and events veritably "blacked out". I thought everyone worked like this and I didn't worry about. In fact, I would have told you I had the best memory in the world.
And then one day, on the One train, on the way to my student job at the Theatre Arts academy I was attending, I had my first real flashback. It was Sunday, a week before labor day... I was 24. It started with a smell. The smell of sweat and car grease and stale heat. I slipped into a memory that had always confused me and made me slightly sick. A memory of my cousins chasing me across their backyard with a broom, cornering me on the edge of their deck, holding me in place with the broom across my chest. I was about 5... they were teenagers. It was Christmas or Thanksgiving and I was wearing a dress. "If you tell, we'll push you off." Off the deck and down the steep embankment behind their house. (I had always wondered, "Tell what?") My Daddy had come out and seen them and made a show of rescuing me by pretending to knock their heads together. Or maybe he really did knock their heads together; he was very angry.
And then the memory rewound, past the beginning I had known all those years, to a new beginning. To playing under the big tree in the backyard. My cousins want to play with me, and since they usually treat me like the biggest annoyance in the world, I am elated. They want to play 'Legend'. I don't like that movie, except for the unicorns, but I saw on their TV earlier that there are devils too. Mommy said it's a bad movie. But I say ok, and I get to be the princess. And it's fun... Until it isn't, and they hurt me in a private place. And that's when I ran.
When it all came back, I thought it was a strange imagination. It haunted me. It made me sick. I felt like I was in shock. But I also felt that it could not really be true, even though something in me was sure that it was. I went to Target that night with K, and I told her a little about the experience. I didn't know it was a flashback. I thought I was making it up, or going crazy.
The next day the tears began. I had been depressed for a long time, but this was different. It was like I was drowning. I could not function at school... I could not function at all. And while a part of me continued to feel like I was making it all up, deep inside I knew. I had a secret history, and I could no longer deny it. The day after labor day I quit school. Though I didn't know it then, I was beginning the most important journey of my life. My healing journey.
And this blog, I now realize, may be the most important step on that journey so far. It is the place where that little girl who was scared into silence can have a voice. It is a place to explain to so many why the expressions of a hidden pain I played out may have caused me to inadvertently hurt them.
It is a place that makes it all worth it.
I wouldn't trade my history for anyone else's. Oh, I have wished at times that it didn't happen... That damaged people didn't do so much damage to the innocent little girl that I was. But now I have a chance to turn it around. To join in the battle to stop abuse by speaking out. To be the one who says the pattern ends here. The abuse ends here.
If you have endured any type of abuse in your life, this entry is dedicated to you. Your journey is long and sometimes hard, and you are the only person who can take it. You, alone. But there is hope. If you stop running from the fear and the anger. If you turn around and face those monsters that chase you, you can fight. You can defeat them. It will take a lifetime... It will take a single moment. You are already stronger than you know, because you survived what the worst of humanity threw at you and you're still going. Remember, if that little child you were could persevere, then you can to.
You have a friend in me, and the many others out there who have stood where you are.
And if you are not a survivor, then you know one. And you can be the support to them that K has been to me. (She has survived her own story too, but I think everyone has, in one way or another.) If we all work together, we can be a community of strength. We can change the present of those who are hurting and offer them a hopeful future.
All it takes is a little courage... And a whole lot of love.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
On Cultivating Patience
And now the work begins.
There is so much I want to say everyday... So much I want to write here and I'm having to work very hard to remain patient. I have to remind myself that I just (JUST) started this blog and that I have TIME to say all I need to say. Patience is actually a main theme in my life right now.
See, I love to start things, and then when they don't go exactly the way I think they should, I drop it. I walk away and start something new. I liked to think of myself as a free spirit, when in actuality, I was just too impatient to see much through to its conclusion. I, like pretty much all of Western humanity, want instant gratification. When I don't get it, I decide that it wasn't meant to be.
It's strange, having the realization that I respond this way. I have never been conscious of this. I probably would have told you I was the most patient person ever. I would tell you that I believe that all good things take time. That if it's worth doing, it's worth doing well. And while I do want to believe that, my actions have proven time and again that I do not actually follow through on this belief.
The subconscious is a powerful, invisible motivator. It sneaks in and influences actions we aren't even aware of. Driven by triggers from past traumas, conditioning, and sometimes brainwashing, it is a force of extreme yet gentle power. Usually, the subconscious is so subtle that we don't recognize its quiet push in one direction or another. And sadly, our unconscious decisions can have widespread effects in our life.
Take me, and patience, and this blog. My impatience (and, to be honest, fear) kept me from continuing this blog a year ago. I couldn't get my thoughts together in what I thought was a cohesive way. I couldn't figure out how to proceed, and, becoming impatient, I just stopped. I wasn't even aware that that was what I was doing. I just drifted back into the unconscious haze of unawareness.
What my subconscious was doing, was trying to protect me. Writing about incest set off a series of triggers in my mind. All the voices of my abusers (yes, more than one) came back. "I will kill you, or your family, if you tell." "If you don't let me, I will just go find your sister." "No one will believe you, so keep our secret." "If you tell, everyone will know that you asked for this." The fear that these triggers created was more than I could handle. So my subconscious set into place the impatience cycle. I'm only now beginning to realize that it's a cycle I've been falling into my whole life. (One of many.)
I now see this cycle for what it is. And I honor my wonderfully complex brain for being able to protect me. I honor the resilience it took to endure what I did and overcome that fear. I honor that I can now see what was hidden. I honor me.
But I cannot stop there. Once I have become aware of something my subconscious has been influencing, I then have to make a choice. Do I continue to allow this fear based impatience to rob me of things that not only bring me joy, but also allow me to follow my life's purpose? Or do I put in the hard work to change this behavior?
When awareness comes, it brings with it responsibility. I have a responsibility to myself to reverse this pattern of learned impatience. And the beautiful thing is: I can! I can change how I respond. So much in my life right now requires patience. This blog, for starters. The wonderful journey towards physical health and wholeness that I am taking. The children's book I'm creating with my best friend and business partner (in crime!) The magnetic spiritual growth I've been experiencing. All of these wonderful things require patience.
Through practicing self-discipline, and maintaining my sense of humor, I'm working toward cultivating an attitude of patience in all aspects of my life. This mostly begins internally. I'm learning that before I have patience with these external things, I have to have it within. I have to have patience that I'm right where I need to be in any given moment. That while I have come so so far in my healing, I still have kinks to work out. I still have wonderful, beautiful lessons to learn about who I am. I have to learn to have patience with my impatience.
I can. Such lovely little words. Words of hope. Words that can start anything. I can be patient. I can change negative thoughts and behavioral patterns. I can be whole. I can revel in this glorious life with all the ups and downs that create in us wisdom, clarity and love.
I can...
And so can you.
"The real question now:
Will I be able
to rise above the snows -
brave bloom
seeking passage into summer?
Can I maintain,
upright,
finding sustenance
in fluidity and radiance,
Unfalteringly uncompromising
In my journey upward?
Will I find the light I've sought?"
There is so much I want to say everyday... So much I want to write here and I'm having to work very hard to remain patient. I have to remind myself that I just (JUST) started this blog and that I have TIME to say all I need to say. Patience is actually a main theme in my life right now.
See, I love to start things, and then when they don't go exactly the way I think they should, I drop it. I walk away and start something new. I liked to think of myself as a free spirit, when in actuality, I was just too impatient to see much through to its conclusion. I, like pretty much all of Western humanity, want instant gratification. When I don't get it, I decide that it wasn't meant to be.
It's strange, having the realization that I respond this way. I have never been conscious of this. I probably would have told you I was the most patient person ever. I would tell you that I believe that all good things take time. That if it's worth doing, it's worth doing well. And while I do want to believe that, my actions have proven time and again that I do not actually follow through on this belief.
The subconscious is a powerful, invisible motivator. It sneaks in and influences actions we aren't even aware of. Driven by triggers from past traumas, conditioning, and sometimes brainwashing, it is a force of extreme yet gentle power. Usually, the subconscious is so subtle that we don't recognize its quiet push in one direction or another. And sadly, our unconscious decisions can have widespread effects in our life.
Take me, and patience, and this blog. My impatience (and, to be honest, fear) kept me from continuing this blog a year ago. I couldn't get my thoughts together in what I thought was a cohesive way. I couldn't figure out how to proceed, and, becoming impatient, I just stopped. I wasn't even aware that that was what I was doing. I just drifted back into the unconscious haze of unawareness.
What my subconscious was doing, was trying to protect me. Writing about incest set off a series of triggers in my mind. All the voices of my abusers (yes, more than one) came back. "I will kill you, or your family, if you tell." "If you don't let me, I will just go find your sister." "No one will believe you, so keep our secret." "If you tell, everyone will know that you asked for this." The fear that these triggers created was more than I could handle. So my subconscious set into place the impatience cycle. I'm only now beginning to realize that it's a cycle I've been falling into my whole life. (One of many.)
I now see this cycle for what it is. And I honor my wonderfully complex brain for being able to protect me. I honor the resilience it took to endure what I did and overcome that fear. I honor that I can now see what was hidden. I honor me.
But I cannot stop there. Once I have become aware of something my subconscious has been influencing, I then have to make a choice. Do I continue to allow this fear based impatience to rob me of things that not only bring me joy, but also allow me to follow my life's purpose? Or do I put in the hard work to change this behavior?
When awareness comes, it brings with it responsibility. I have a responsibility to myself to reverse this pattern of learned impatience. And the beautiful thing is: I can! I can change how I respond. So much in my life right now requires patience. This blog, for starters. The wonderful journey towards physical health and wholeness that I am taking. The children's book I'm creating with my best friend and business partner (in crime!) The magnetic spiritual growth I've been experiencing. All of these wonderful things require patience.
Through practicing self-discipline, and maintaining my sense of humor, I'm working toward cultivating an attitude of patience in all aspects of my life. This mostly begins internally. I'm learning that before I have patience with these external things, I have to have it within. I have to have patience that I'm right where I need to be in any given moment. That while I have come so so far in my healing, I still have kinks to work out. I still have wonderful, beautiful lessons to learn about who I am. I have to learn to have patience with my impatience.
I can. Such lovely little words. Words of hope. Words that can start anything. I can be patient. I can change negative thoughts and behavioral patterns. I can be whole. I can revel in this glorious life with all the ups and downs that create in us wisdom, clarity and love.
I can...
And so can you.
"The real question now:
Will I be able
to rise above the snows -
brave bloom
seeking passage into summer?
Can I maintain,
upright,
finding sustenance
in fluidity and radiance,
Unfalteringly uncompromising
In my journey upward?
Will I find the light I've sought?"
Friday, April 6, 2012
"The one I will become will catch me..."
Hello again.
It has been almost a full year since my last (and first... and only!) post to this blog. And oh what a year it has been!
You can read through the other post if you like. It states that this blog is a place to basically bare my soul about my history of incest. A place to show you the wounds of the past. A place to declare myself a survivor of incest.
My intentions have changed drastically.
You see, my past does not define me. I am so much more than an "incest survivor." I do not have an identifier; I am simply (and not so simply) Keren. There are a million wonderful attributes that make me the absolutely complex and beautiful human that I am at any given moment. I have learned that if I live in the past then I am only a collection of memories. Moreover, if I live in the future then I am nothing more than a vision or dream, without shape and form. So I now choose to live in the moment. And in this one. And this one
You get the picture.
I want to tell the story of now. And interwoven through the arras of now will be snippets of the past and glimpses into the future. These tiny threads of truth and possibility will be the background that will help the brightly colored patterns of today shine through.
There is much I want to share about the wonderful 180 degree turn that my life has taken. About how I've lost four clothing sizes in a little over two months. About how I had absolutely no winter depression this year. About how I've regained my confidence, not only in myself, but in my ability to do my art as well. And most importantly, about how my Spirit has awoken to these fresh new possibilities that surround me. For now I'll leave you with this little bit of an introduction. There is so much time to say all I want to say.
Today I want to dedicate this blog to the power of transformation. To choice and hope and change. To love. Self love, other love... unconditional love. I dedicate it to me and my personal triumphs.
I dedicate it to you, in honor of your personal triumphs.
"I will dance so freely, holding on to no one
You can hold me only if you too will fall
Away from all these useless fears and chains..."
"Let Me Fall" by Josh Groban
It has been almost a full year since my last (and first... and only!) post to this blog. And oh what a year it has been!
You can read through the other post if you like. It states that this blog is a place to basically bare my soul about my history of incest. A place to show you the wounds of the past. A place to declare myself a survivor of incest.
My intentions have changed drastically.
You see, my past does not define me. I am so much more than an "incest survivor." I do not have an identifier; I am simply (and not so simply) Keren. There are a million wonderful attributes that make me the absolutely complex and beautiful human that I am at any given moment. I have learned that if I live in the past then I am only a collection of memories. Moreover, if I live in the future then I am nothing more than a vision or dream, without shape and form. So I now choose to live in the moment. And in this one. And this one
You get the picture.
I want to tell the story of now. And interwoven through the arras of now will be snippets of the past and glimpses into the future. These tiny threads of truth and possibility will be the background that will help the brightly colored patterns of today shine through.
There is much I want to share about the wonderful 180 degree turn that my life has taken. About how I've lost four clothing sizes in a little over two months. About how I had absolutely no winter depression this year. About how I've regained my confidence, not only in myself, but in my ability to do my art as well. And most importantly, about how my Spirit has awoken to these fresh new possibilities that surround me. For now I'll leave you with this little bit of an introduction. There is so much time to say all I want to say.
Today I want to dedicate this blog to the power of transformation. To choice and hope and change. To love. Self love, other love... unconditional love. I dedicate it to me and my personal triumphs.
I dedicate it to you, in honor of your personal triumphs.
"I will dance so freely, holding on to no one
You can hold me only if you too will fall
Away from all these useless fears and chains..."
"Let Me Fall" by Josh Groban
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