Our Quiet Leaders

The original image was published in Kinesis Sept 1993. Sexual abuse and the system: Fighting back. Written by Terry D. Gibson (under the pseudonym Marie Thompson).

  When I think about women who are leaders, I cannot help but think of those who are famous and get lots of attention and benefits from their work. This propels me toward the living and breathing women whom the public does not know and may undervalue. They are the invisible and unsung heroes among us.   As a woman and a leader, I am the young tenant next door who hears your cries while your husband yells and pounds you in the wee hours of the morning. I quietly call the Police for help, begging them not to say…

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The Last Time I Tell This Story

This is the last time I will tell this story. I need my mother’s love. I knew this all of my life and It is still true today. I need my mother’s love. She was beautiful and I would have told her so if I wasn’t so afraid she’d hit me. I need my mother’s love. I didn’t like Ice Capades but I would’ve joined her to watch a show about Barbara Ann Scott, her favourite skater. I need my mother’s love. When she scooped me up in her arms after Dad kicked over the coffee table and scalded me…

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Six Reasons Why I Love Self-Deprecating Humour

I love laughing at myself. Now, for those who know me, don’t worry that I am doing so to put myself down. Why would I do that? What’s my height again? Oh yeah. I’m four feet six inches on a good day. Trust me, you’ll see nary a hair on my head when the day is less joyous. ********** I’m so shy and almost too reverent of people and things. For instance, if you invite me to a family dinner—yes, even when I’m expected–I still won’t knock on your door too loudly. I don’t want to announce myself by jolting…

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Self-Esteem by Virginia Satir

I am me In all the world, there is no one else like me. There are persons who have some parts like me, but no one adds up exactly like me. Therefore, everything that comes out of me is authentically mine because I alone chose it I own everything about me my body, including everything it does; my mind, including all its thoughts and ideas; my eyes, including the images of all they behold; my feelings, whatever they may be anger, joy, frustration, love, disappointment, excitement; my mouth, and all the words that come out of it, polite, sweet or…

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Wasted and Dying to Be Thin

  Recently, I mentioned on Twitter that I just finished reading Wasted by Marya Hornbacher. I have not written my review as yet.  However, today I thought I would reprint my review of a Fringe Fest play which was published in March 1993; the newsprint is a bit too ragged for total readability, though I will scan the photo that went with the article.  I reviewed this play and read Wasted because at one time my nerves were so bad from post-traumatic stress syndrome (PTSD) that I couldn’t keep my food down. This problem eventually led me to flirt with…

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The Truth About Me

  The truth about me is that I tuned in to Oprah’s Life Class for a few minutes today. The challenge that impaled my chest one minute in was, Are you addicted to your story? Impaled my chest? Yes, I’m a super-sensitive person so bristles sprang up on the back of my neck too.  Iyanla Vanzant kept saying to a woman on skype, “. . . that’s the story you keep telling yourself. What is the real story?” The truth about me is I love a good challenge.  I needed a lot of therapy to survive and combat the depression…

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My Poem – “Hard” – Originally Entitled “Fourteen” – True Story

HARD If only I had known How tough it would be to be jump-started daily by a vacuum cleaner hose Cracked over my legs And Mom’s shrill tones Yelling, accusing. Frantic, I fall out of bed still shaking and sweating ice from being locked up Alone, last night in the attic. Hope crystallizes and evaporates I love yous and hugs do not exist Only the verbal machete, punctuated by blows from my own baseball bat. While somewhere, laughter echoes from A joke only I could not grasp. At school, peer pressure dealt me another nerve-grating punch Piercing and curious eyes…

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Nurturing Change In My Life

  After my last blog entry, I felt a bit disappointed in myself.  This is because I could not discuss change without giving voice to the inner struggles I have around it. I will say more about that in future because I am sure I am not the only woman dealing with these challenges. For now, however, I don’t need to elaborate.   You see, thankfully, it is my birthday today and I promised to cut myself a break from my self-critical ruminations. I can’t give myself a hard time for quite a few hours yet.  Isn’t that wonderful?  …

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Thank You

Thank you for allowing me good housing, warmth, ample food, healthcare and good health. Thank you for my eyes and having the ability to see without them. Thank you for my ears and not needing them to hear. Thank you for the gift of intuition, compassion for myself and others, stubbornness, the strength and integrity to trust and be trusted, and, perhaps the most important of all, patience. Thank you for laughter, quiet, music, workouts that pour sweat, the sweetness of good friendship, and for the helping professions, which guided me through the process of saving my life. Thank you…

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Our Quiet Leaders

When I think about women who are leaders, I cannot help but think of those who are famous and get lots of attention for their works. Since they do not need any focus, I like to remember the living and breathing women whom the public does not know, and may never, because they are every woman. As a woman and a leader, I am the young tenant next door who hears your cries while your husband yells and pounds you in the wee hours of the morning. I quietly call the Police for help for you, begging them not to…

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