Breaking Free: A Survivor's Journey Through Domestic Violence
Once I accepted that I was a survivor of conjugal or domestic violence, a term I find more inclusive, I became aware of how easy it is to internalize and deny. We've all heard that violence doesn't discriminate based on gender, race, social status, or religion; everyone is potentially at risk. As long as we keep it taboo, we'll never be able to heal and change.
Speaking with a friend, I realized a common denominator among survivors: we all go through the same process of manipulation, mistreatment, use, abuse, and control, ultimately leading to isolation. We become protectors of our abusers, often neglecting our family and friends to shield them. My friend talked about the need for abusive men to take responsibility for their actions, but I wonder how? How can they when they're often unaware of the harm they cause? Society, religion, and even our families have protected and even encouraged abuse against women.
I remember studying women in religion as part of my women's studies program and learning about shocking practices around the world that excuse violence and oppression as religious practices and beliefs. Forced marriages, dowry-related violence, and female genital mutilation are just a few examples.
How can we expect men to be aware when women continue to be silent victims and accomplices? I protected my abuser; my family encouraged me to stay with him just because he was a "good guy." "He's so jealous because he loves you; if he didn't, he wouldn't be jealous," they'd say. Meanwhile, I felt smaller and more isolated than ever.
I spent seven years of my life in a prison; my own home was my jail, and my partner was the guard. My only friends were his parents, my only outlet was chain smoking, and my only source of freedom was every six months when my sister visited. Every time she left, I'd cry for hours, back in my big cell, alone and sad, always looking down to avoid triggering him, accused of "checking out someone" or having a secret affair.
The psychological abuse was relentless; I hated everything about myself; I was a mere shadow of him. Before I could change anyone, I had to change myself, take a risk, and say enough is enough. It took me seven years and a change of country to feel free again. Oh, Canada, you freed me!
When we moved to Canada, he expected to maintain control, but I had reached my limit. Finally able to spend most of the day with just myself, I was no longer in survival mode. In Miami, we worked together, and I was undocumented, living in fear of deportation; my abuser was also my means of survival. But when we migrated to Canada, and I was no longer in fear of deportation, my body and mind shifted out of survival mode. I had served my time; I was free.
He continued to accuse me of cheating, upset because he couldn't read my mind, and controlled what was and wasn't acceptable during sex, saying, "You move like a whore." I needed to reclaim myself; I needed to know who Paula was.
We separated in December, and the control and manipulation continued for a while. When his old tactics were no longer effective, he started controlling the financial aspects. When we finally filed for divorce, I had to wait a whole year for it to be final. I could have had a speedy divorce if I could prove abuse, but psychological abuse wasn't considered. They wanted bruises, broken bones, black eyes, blood—a broken soul. My broken self wasn't enough.
Of course, I wasn't being abused; I told myself. He loved me so passionately that he was a bit jealous and controlling. What I felt inside was wrong; what everyone else thought and saw must be right. He wasn't abusive; this couldn't be happening to me.
Boy, was I wrong. I was a victim of domestic violence, abused physically, emotionally, psychologically. In a couple of years, I would have a black eye and ear damage to match my broken soul.
Breaking the Silence: My Journey Through Confronting Red Flags and Escaping Abuse
As I sit down to write this blog post, I find myself reflecting on a past filled with red flags that I couldn't see—or perhaps didn't want to see—during a tumultuous relationship with a handsome Italian man. It's a common theme, isn't it? Spotting warning signs in others often seems far easier than recognizing them in our own relationships.
Throughout this process of introspection, I've come to realize that many of us have been conditioned to silence our own instincts, to wash our dirty laundry at home, to make excuses for the inexcusable. We've been taught to deny the cracks in our relationships, to cover up the scars and bruises, and to keep the secret as if it were solely ours to bear.
But why? Why do we keep quiet when faced with abuse? In my case, I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt for "allowing" the abuse to happen to me. I believed I was weak, that I was the problem. I couldn't bring myself to speak out; instead, I protected my abuser and concealed the evidence of his cruelty.
It took me far too long to reach my breaking point, but when I did, it was a revelation. Discovering his infidelity was the final straw, the catalyst for me to say "enough is enough." However, leaving was the hardest part. I was financially dependent, isolated from friends and family, and overwhelmed with shame.
I wasn't alone in my struggle. For many women, leaving an abusive relationship can take an average of seven attempts. The cycle of abuse, with its psychological, financial, sexual, and sometimes physical aspects, can be incredibly difficult to break free from.
It's worth noting that until as recently as 1983, sexually assaulting one's spouse was legally permissible in Canada under the guise of "marital obligations." This legal precedent sheds light on the deeply entrenched societal attitudes that perpetuate the cycle of abuse and make it even harder for victims to seek help.
In my darkest moments, I found solace in organizations like [SOS Violence Conjugale](https://sosviolenceconjugale.ca/en), who provided me with the support and reassurance I needed to leave. It wasn't easy, but with their help, I gathered the strength to escape the cycle of violence.
I share my story not out of a desire for sympathy, but rather with the hope that it may serve a greater purpose. By speaking out, we can break the silence surrounding domestic abuse and empower others to seek help. No one deserves to feel unsafe in their own home.
If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic violence, know that help is available. You are not alone.
[Here are some resources for those in need of help:](https://www.shelterforhelpinemergency.org/get-help/cycle-violence)
Together, let's turn our pain into purpose and work towards a future free from abuse.
From Groundhog Day to Gratitude: Navigating Grief with Yoga and Acceptance
How long does it take to heal? This question echoed constantly in my mind, wondering when the gut-wrenching pain would subside, and when I could muster the energy to face each day. The acceptance stage of the grieving process seemed elusive, and it felt like I was a hamster on a never-ending wheel, reliving the same, groundhog-day-like struggles.
I must admit, when COVID-19 hit, I strangely found a breath of fresh air in the midst of the chaos. The lockdown allowed me to be home, embracing the opportunity to move at my own pace, to do only what my energy and body permitted. The shared experience of staying in became socially acceptable, and for my grieving soul, it became a welcomed respite.
During this time, I discovered 'Yoga with Adriene.' Initially, all I could manage was a 10-minute session, holding back tears. Adriene's soothing voice encouraging phrases like 'I'm strong' and 'thank you for your body' became my whispered mantras. Those 10 minutes gradually started to illuminate the dark tunnel of my life. Weeks turned into months, and I found myself doing longer sessions—15, 20, even 30 minutes. It became a sacred time for me, just me, my body, and my breath. The tears lessened, and I began to feel a newfound strength and gratitude for my body.
Healing, I've come to realize, is a multifaceted journey. It requires time, patience, and self-awareness. As the saying goes in Alcoholics Anonymous, 'one day at a time.' It's about healing not just the broken heart but the entire body, layer by layer. Today, I strive to help as many people as I can on their holistic healing journeys. For those interested, you can find Adriene's transformative yoga sessions at Yoga with Adriene and remember, 'one day at a time’
(https://www.youtube.com/user/yogawithadriene?themeRefresh=1)
The Transformative Power of Positive Thinking
Recovering from trauma, whether it's physical, emotional, psychological, or a combination of all, can be an incredibly challenging journey. In my experience, one of the most difficult tasks was changing the persistent "little voice in my head" – that constant reminder of everything going wrong with my body, mind, and life; the self-defeating thoughts.
My healing process has been lengthy and arduous, with my inner voice screaming loudly. How could it not be? Growing up with a mother who constantly labeled me as "a piece of shit" added another layer to the struggle. However, that's a story for another time.
Engaging in a self-help group became a pivotal part of my journey. The teachings, which I initially couldn't grasp, focused on self-reflection and how one reacts to life's challenges. After forcing myself to attend for several months, I began working with someone who had been in the group longer. This person, having hit rock bottom and now ready to serve, gave me my first assignment: text her three things I was grateful for every day. Seemingly impossible at first, considering my constant complaints about being broke and stuck in an unhealthy relationship, feeling sad, alone, and lost. Asking for help was something I didn't know how to do. Nonetheless, my task was clear – three things every day.
One day, I stumbled upon an experiment by the Japanese doctor, Dr. Masaru Emoto, who researched the impact of thoughts and intentions on water molecules[^1^]. Given that the human body is approximately 60% water, it made sense why I always felt terrible. My "little voice" was relentless, shaped by my past experiences. Determined to change, I started expressing gratitude daily. Initially, it was for small things like "I am grateful for the moon." Gradually, my inner voice transformed, becoming more supportive and encouraging. Over time, I learned to say beautiful things to myself, and now, that once cruel and ruthless voice is no longer acknowledged or heard.
I am aware of this pattern, and I acknowledge and let it go. I don’t entertain that part anymore. Instead, I say, “I am grateful for awareness,” and I move on. I will always have ups and downs; it is all part of being human. Like the saying goes, “Stars can't shine without darkness.”
[^1^]: Source: [The Wellness Enterprise - Dr. Masaru Emoto](https://thewellnessenterprise.com/emoto/)
Embracing Healing: A Personal Journey through Grief, Yoga, and the Unseen
In the mere span of 3-4 days after discovering the devastating reality of my husband's passing and returning from the emotionally tumultuous funeral, life seemed like a surreal labyrinth. Engaging in the simplicity of play with my kids, aged 5 and 2, we found ourselves immersed in the timeless game of hide and seek. Little did I know that within the confines of a closet, a profound experience awaited me, marking the beginning of an extraordinary healing journey.
As I concealed myself in the darkness of the closet, the veil between the realms of the living and the departed seemed to thin. Despite the certainty that he was no longer among the living, I felt my husband's presence—the warmth of his embrace, the echo of his voice, the fragrance of his familiar scent. In that sacred moment, he asked if he could hug me, and with a fragile yet resolute "yes," he enveloped me in a bear hug from behind. Tears streamed down my cheeks as the intensity of the encounter became overwhelming, prompting me to break away and flee. While the hug was a bittersweet solace, a part of me now yearns for the simplicity of that embrace.
However, this article is not just about that poignant moment; it is about my pathway to healing, a journey that traversed diverse avenues of self-discovery and recovery. It underscores the importance of embracing activities that bring happiness and resonate with our inner selves.
In the aftermath of that emotionally charged encounter, I found solace in yoga. On a Saturday in October, I recollect lying on the yoga mat, grappling with the heavy burden of grief, trying desperately to find reprieve in the simple act of breathing. In the enchanting realm of yoga, where the Sanskrit term "union" embodies its essence, I began to forge a connection between breath, peace, and the spiritual presence of my departed husband. As tears mingled with my breath, I found moments of release and catharsis.
The healing path is deeply personal, and I discovered that it is essential to engage in activities that foster happiness and resonate with one's being. Whether through profound encounters in the closet or the transformative power of yoga, my journey illuminated the significance of self-discovery and the pursuit of activities that nurture inner peace. In navigating the complex terrain of grief, I have learned that healing is a continuous process—one that unfolds in unexpected moments and through the embrace of what brings us solace and joy.
The Healing Power of Touch: A Personal Journey through Massage Therapy and more!
It all begins with an idea.
Recently, while driving, I caught a segment on CBC News discussing the latest research on the profound impact of "touch" on human well-being [1]. As a certified massage therapist and a mother, my initial reactions were a mix of "Duh, of course" and a triumphant "Yay, we are finally catching up." Having witnessed firsthand the transformative effects of loving and respectful touch, both in my professional practice and personal life, I couldn't agree more with the newfound recognition of its significance.
In my family life, I have vivid memories of the times when a gentle touch had the power to "kiss the pain away." Whether it was a soothing rub, accompanied by the comforting melody of the "sana que sana colita de rana" song, and a kiss on a childhood injury or moments of sadness met with a comforting hug from my sister, the impact was undeniable. These instances not only restored a sense of well-being but also triggered a release of feel-good hormones, with cortisol levels decreasing and dopamine rising, creating a profound feeling of safety and peace.
My personal journey into massage therapy, holistic healing, and energy work began during the darkest period of my life—amidst the peak of the COVID-19 pandemic. Struggling with the loss of my husband, and as a single parent to two kids, life felt tough, sad, and overwhelmingly dark. It was during this challenging time that I stumbled upon a shiatsu introduction course, not knowing that it would become the catalyst for a life-altering transformation.
Attending the shiatsu introduction, I had no prior understanding of this healing art. Little did I know that this seemingly small decision would mark the beginning of my healing journey. Week by week, as different meridians were worked on, I felt my energy start to move. I began to reconnect with my body, with the Earth, and with the collective healing energy of those who had touched my life in the past, those currently present, and those yet to come.
In the world of massage therapy, holistic healing, and energy work, the power of touch goes beyond the physical realm. It serves as a bridge to emotional healing, a pathway to reconnecting with oneself and others. My personal experience underscores the profound impact that touch, administered with love and respect, can have on the human spirit. As the importance of touch gains recognition in mainstream discourse, I'm reminded of the simple yet transformative truth: sometimes, all it takes is a touch to heal.
Source:
[1]: CBC Radio - "Getting in Touch: How Physical Contact Can Impact Your Well-being." [Link](https://www.cbc.ca/radio/nowornever/getting-in-touch-how-physical-contact-can-impact-your-well-being-1.6340240)