Hello ,

Once again, this isn’t the post I had planned to send today. I had something else that I wanted to share with you – but it can wait another day. This feels more important.

I wanted to share what I wrote this morning as a response to the “me too” movement you may have seen on Facebook.

Here’s what I posted:


Me too. Yo tambien. #metoo

About a year ago I started writing and sharing more openly about the sexual abuse, harassment and rape that I have experienced.

I had to… I couldn’t stay silent as I watched a man who has a lifetime of celebrating objectification of women and has publicly talked about abusing women run for one of the most powerful offices in the world.

Touched inappropriately in a car by an older guy
Having sex when I didn’t want to and just staring at the clock or ceiling waiting for it to be over
Told I was dressed like a slut
Raped while unconscious at a party, waking up to the pain of my head bang bang banging against the wall while he was still on top of me
Drugged and raped, waking up after drinking only 1.5 pints of beer next to a man I’d never seen before, looking in the mirror to see a split lip and finding my underwear stuffed in my pocket
Falling asleep on a train and waking up to find a man’s hand grabbing me between the legs

All this (and more) before I’d aged out of my teens

Yes, me too


I was told again yesterday that I’m so sensitive, that I cry “a lot”

Yes, it’s true

When I stopped numbing and started feeling, I started crying

Sometimes I long to go back.
When my pain was carefully and safely tucked so far away that I didn’t have to confront it, where it couldn’t reach me.

I used to feel that tears were a sign of weakness.
I needed to feel “strong” to uphold the fortress around my feelings.
I needed this strength to survive.
To shed a few was risking opening the floodgates, and drowning.

Now I know my tears are a sign that I’m awake.
That I’m alive.
And that I am now safe enough (aka truly strong enough) to allow myself to feel.

Yes, I cry.

I cry tears of sadness, loneliness, and pain.
I cry as I carry my grief and the collective grief of so.many.others

Sometimes I crave another person so that I don’t have to feel so alone.

Last night was one of those nights.

As I scrolled through my feed and saw the words me too, me too, me too… I just wanted to hand it all over to someone and say, make this go away.

Sometimes having someone else say, “I love you, you’re safe, you’re going to be okay” is easier than trying to convince myself.


I was tagged in a post yesterday about a woman celebrating her sobriety, and likening Trump’s election as a call to action/wake up call to the choice to choose “being awake” through sobriety vs numbing.

Someone in the comments challenged her by saying that she didn’t see how Trump’s election had anything to do with the personal responsibility of sobriety.

Do you know how many of my clients needed extra support as they were triggered by so many of the things he said and represented in his campaign (and continues to)?

It happened for me in a big way as hearing about him brag about grabbing women by the pussies literally brought back a memory that had been buried for almost 15 years.

Because my pussy was grabbed too.

Being forced into a reminder of that painful experience wasn’t something I asked for. The shock and the force of remembering had me wanting to run and numb again.

It wasn’t even the “worst” of what I’ve experienced, but it is such a powerful representation of how our bodies are viewed.

Because as I slept peacefully on a train, some man thought he had a right to touch me in my most sacred place. He believed he had more ownership over what happened to my body than I did. He believed he didn’t have to ask permission.

I believe that was is happening politically, globally, in Hollywood, everywhere, has EVERYTHING to do with the very difficult decision that some of us make daily to be awake and to allow ourselves to feel.

(and trust me, I have 100% empathy and zero judgement for those who continue to numb. I GET IT. This path is not any easy one and I can choose to walk it because I have a fuck ton of support and privilege – but that’s for another post)


So yeah, me too.

I’d rather not be reading these words over and over again and feeling such a profound heaviness on a Monday morning.

I’d rather be writing about something else other than this at the beginning of the week.


Together we are stronger, louder.

I am so proud and inspired by each and every PERSON who wrote those two words. Me too.

It takes courage.
For some, it is their first time sharing and releasing themselves from the burden of silence and shame.

I see you. I honour you. I love you.


That was what I posted publicly on Facebook.

I’ll add more here.

The link between trauma and alcohol/substance use is well-researched. Many of us here have had experiences of pain, abuse and trauma… which lead us to numb (alcohol, drugs, sex, co-dependency, perfectionism, workaholism, etc).

I understand, deeply and profoundly, the courage it takes to look within, to understand and heal from this.

That is why I am so deeply committed to providing the safe space and connection for YOU to feel safe and supported to be with and feel your pain.

If you want to know more about the connection between trauma, pain and connection, please watch this short but super powerful video.

If you are feeling the weight of “me too” or the realization/awareness of where some of your need to numb comes from, please do not continue to suffer in shame and silence.
I’m here for you.

We’re here for each other.