My Truth - My Story

I am asked all the time "What qualifies you to do what you do?" "Why is your work so important to you?" Everyday I am so grateful to be where I am, doing what I do. Just a few years ago I could not have dreamt that my life would be where it is today. Speaking in front of thousands of people at a time, working with women to help them realize a limitless life and speaking up for those who haven't found their own voice yet!

In order for you to understand that, I need to share with you my story.

7 years ago I sat in my kitchen in England in a grey fog of guilt, grief depression and self-loathing. The fog hung over me every day for months. The highlights of my day were a cup of coffee in the french press a carton of cigarettes, and the 3pm showing of Ellen followed by the Housewives of Orange County. I had cared for my grandmother Brenda for 10 years along with my mother, and had spent her final months glued to the side of her bed, waiting her time to pass over.

Caring for someone who is completely bed ridden at that most intimate level wears every part of your mind body and spirit down. When your life is consumed by changing soiled sheets a dozen times a day. Waiting for the sound of one alarm for meal times, another for medication times and a third for the dreaded emergency call, there is little time for yourself and no sign of the light at the end of the tunnel.

Every day my mother left the house at 6am to keep the house and family afloat financially. She returned form work at 7pm. At 6.55pm another alarm would go off for me to click on the kettle and my smile, waiting in the kitchen like a Labrador that hadn’t seen anyone all day, begging for some interaction and conversation with someone who wasn’t tripping on a dozen medications imagining woodland creatures running around the house, or fairies that come out of the bedside table at night with trumpets!

"I had given up work, clothes, friends, and a social life and although I couldn’t see it at the time I had given up on me."

Work was the first thing to go. We had an agreement that my grandmother would never go into a care home or nursing facility and that as a family we would stick together until her passing. We had caregivers that came to the house during the day to help care for her, but actually I found they did more for me and my sanity than they could ever possibly know. A friendly warm smile and an understanding ear made these women Judith and Dawn earth bound angels to me! I genuinely couldn’t have done it without them, and we remain very good friends even to this day.

The day before I finally resigned my position in the corporate rat race, I arrived home to find my grandmother who had fallen in the bathroom. Being her fearlessly independent self, she fallen and trapped herself between the toilet and the bathroom wall and was wedged up against a Incredibly hot radiator. As I walked through the back door I could hear her shouting and whimpering for help. She was literally stuck to the radiator, burned onto it like a piece of meat to a grill.

That was the beginning of the guilt. The gift that keeps on giving! From that moment forward my life changed forever. As a family we made a decision that someone should be with her 24/7. I wrote my resignation letter, and rehired myself as the "fixer!"

Next thing to go are the clothes and makeup. When you don’t leave the house for days its super easy to live in your pajamas! In fact, back then making effort meant I had brushed my teeth and put a bra on! You can count on one hand how many people in my lifetime have seen me without makeup, but during the dark days I wore make up so rarely that my mascara had a hard black cement seal around the lid, and my foundation had separated into pigment, oil and a very strange smelling liquid in its bottle!

Then there is social suicide. Friends are a funny thing, you really know who your friends are when shit hits the fan! Living in a rural and remote village in England you really have to make the effort to see people, to visit and go out of your way. Nobody is just passing by. My social life had taken a huge decline, I had no desire to leave the house in fear that something awful would happen whilst I was gone, nor did I feel like partying it up with friends on Saturday night, dressed up to the nines. I lived life like an on call doctor, watching the phone every 30 seconds. When I did venture out I would be drinking soda and water at the bar whilst my friends downed shots and cocktails. The house was becoming my safe place, where I didn’t have to see anyone, deal with anyone or be nice to anyone. The thought of going out filled me with disenchantment.

When you spend weeks at a time slobbing around it becomes addictive, and more disturbingly it becomes normal.

I had truly given up on myself. My soul purpose at that time was to the "fixer" I became consumed with the care of my grandmother and the house. Once she passed, I made it my soul purpose was to look after the house and protect my grieving mother. I had lost sight of my own identity, and I took it to another level! You here people say that they put themselves second. I didn't, at that point I didn't believe I was worth being put on the priority list at all!

A few months after the passing of my grandmother I was lower than ever, wracked with guilt that I didn't do enough, that I cared but not enough to save her, that I gave her meds but not enough to make her better, replaying over and over her final moments of life and all the stupid little things that I had done or said that in my mind would have changed the inevitable outcome. In those dark days, I had convinced myself that my actions and incompetence had killed my Grandmother. It was ALL my fault.

My internal instincts would kick in at the same time every day, I would find myself looking for meds or preparing lunch for her, and every day i'd go through the agonizing realization that my grandmother was no longer there. The large house which had once been a blessing to ‘get space’ now felt, huge, rambling empty and lonely. I used to get up in the morning at put a TV on in her room so that there was at least some sound from her area in the house.

A day when I didn’t see anyone was a good day, because nobody would ask ‘how I am’. Nobody to turn up at the back door and remind me what I hadn’t gotten dressed for days or washed my hair. I really didn’t need anyone apart from the coffee pot and my best friend 20 Richmond Super King Menthols.

Going back to work filled me with dread. Not only would I have to leave the house but i'd have to put shoes on! I'd have to look people in the eye, be confident and strut my stuff like the good corporate girl I had been months prior. I didn’t recognize her, the pencil skirts and stockings seemed intimidating somehow.

For me to present myself as smart, funny and confident would have been the biggest lie ever told!

The easiest thing to do would be to hide in my safe place, and hope that everyone else would just go away and leave me to vacuuming and daytime TV!

One of the friends that did sick by us turned up one Friday afternoon out of the blue. Hearing the knock at the door my heart sank. I rolled off the sofa, paused The Ellen Show and headed to the door. As I walked past a mirror in the hall I realized once again that I was looking rough, and probably smelling as fabulous as I looked! My pajamas had yesterdays runny egg dripped down them and my socks were odd!

I opened the door with fake smiles and embraces, welcoming my friend Dee into the house and doing the very English thing of offering a cup of tea.

Usually Dee was a whirlwind of crazy and fun, a moment in her presence felt like the Tasmanian devil of laughter and exhilaration had hit you at 1000 mph. Today though she was serious, there was something going down and she was a little awkward and distant.

The pointless small talk ensued as I tried to scope out where her head was at and distract her from my hobo state.

Eventually she sat me down and gave me a good talking to:

“We had a great time on Saturday night. I wish you’d have come out with us, like the old days!’ “ We don’t see you anymore, you are a recluse, and we are worried about you!”

“Seriously Sal, you need to pull your shit together, enough is enough! When was the last time you even got dressed?” When was the last time you left the house?”

The knot in the pit of my stomach got heavier and tighter. The sadness, shame and guilt washed over me all over again. I was sick and tired of feeling like this, but I couldn’t see a way out. The knot in my tummy turned into a fire of my feelings of failure and defeat frustration and fear. Her words were incredibly hard to hear, because somewhere deep down I knew she was right! I felt like i'd been kicked in the gut, but instead of seeing the truth that Dee saw, I vented all of my feelings of anger. Trying desperately to look indignant and on a higher moral ground, when you are sat their in odd socks and no bra is not easy! trust me, but I did my best work!

I made my apologies and got rid of her. How dare she come into my safe place and tell me that I’m loosing it! How dare she judge me. How fucking rude! As I watched her car reverse down the drive, I replayed her words over and over. Seeking comfort in yes you guessed it another cup of coffee and another cigarette.

The replay in my head took weeks to silence. It kept me awake at night. I actively declined her calls and avoided any contact of any kind with her. In hindsight it wasn’t her I was avoiding. She had held up a mirror for me and I didn’t want anything to do with the girl I saw looking back at me, I would avoid her at all costs. Sadly that meant I had to ignore who I had become, and the easiest way to do that? Stay in the house and away from any kind of mirror, ones on the wall or those that emotionally are given to you by those people on the outside.

I can see that my mother and my friends actively managed me out of this state of denial and existence. Orchestrating visits to the house, dinner parties and shopping trips, slowly but surely getting me cleaned up and rehabilitated.

My mother joked that the house had turned into a sad Vontrap house and that we had to get the music back in it. Knowing that I would do anything to help her through her grief (after all it was my job and responsibility) she suggested that we have a huge Christmas Party on December 5th. Everyone was invited. If I couldn’t do it for myself, she knew I could do it for her.

The house was dressed like something out of Lampoons Christmas Vacation. There was enough food and drink to end world poverty. In the weeks running up to it we ‘Got out of the house’ for provisions, decorations, outfits, haircuts, a new makeup kit. With every step out of the house it became easier.

December 5th 2009 was the best Christmas Party on record. It's still talked about within our group of friends (and dare I add the locals in the village that didn’t sleep through the 14 hour party!)

It was the start of my come back. It was refreshing to hear laughter and have the house full of people. Smelling canapés and mulled wine instead of grief and morphine. I didn’t feel out of my comfort zone because I was still in my safe place, but letting my hair down. Subsequent conversations with friends and get-togethers were easier for me, because we actually had something in common to talk about.

Christmas can be a sad a depressing time, but only if you choose for it to be. We partied and distracted ourselves out of the grief and into the New Year. Going out and socializing became the new normal and I began to like who I saw in the mirror again.

I started to choose the words yes, and I can. Instead of No and I can't. It’s true that the magic of Christmas really does exist and along with my mother and my close friends it saved my ass!

I never want anyone to feel those dark days of self-loathing. I want every woman to know that they are worthy and I want to teach them how to be the best version of them. Until you’ve stood in odd socks in the kitchen of doom you’ll never know how glorious it is to stand in your power shoes in the unsafe big magical world of opportunity!

My mission over the past few years has been to help women along in their own journey. Everyone’s story is different, but I can assure you that many of the feeling’s are the same for us all. I lost my way, lost sight for a while of how special unique and fabulously flawed I am.

I had to learn how to love myself again and how to project that inner light of love to other people in my life. Confidence is the single most attractive quality in anyone, once you’ve found it and you truly believe it; there is nothing that can stop you!

My hope for us in the future is that we can walk together in our power shoes celebrating each other instead of tearing each other down. I hope that you can see in yourself the truth as your friends see it, as Dee Saw my truth in me.

I hope that when you are presented a mirror, to look at yourself, emotionally and physically, you will focus on the positives. I hope that you will really look into it, see and learn to love honor and challenge your own reflection everyday. If there is one thing that grief has taught me it is that life is to short to hate, blame or punish yourself.

We are given a life to make a difference.

My promise to my grandmother now is that I won't waste it. Every day I will live my best life, and I will help others along the way to do the same!