Book Review: Peace from Broken Pieces by Iyanla Vanzant

Hello world, My Biological clock is ticking (turn 38 next week by Grace); and peace is my number one top priority at all times now. I admit to having several broken pieces in my life – heck still do so much and they sometimes just poke up and make me bawl my eyes out all over again. I was thus very excited to pick up this other soulful memoir by Iyanla Vanzant one of my all time favorite – No nonsense authors. I mean, I cried again when I read one of her other power books titled Yesterday I Cried – Here, you can find my review of that one. I have had it for almost two years now but I guess it wasn’t time for a review. I even mentioned the book in my own personal journey to uncovering the source of my peace.

When I look at my notes from the book, I can share some of the most poignant I made:

1. …I didn’t know anything about rebound relationships. I didn’t know that it takes a respectable amount of time for one person to get over another person and come to a place of completion… (Neither did I and it’s barely 3 months I finally knew and got there);
2. …One powerful lesson I learned from him was that just because a man is a good man, it does not mean that he knows how to be a good partner ( my comment on that note says it all: woah, similar to what l wrote about mine);
3. When two broken people bring their broken pieces together, chances are they will never become a whole anything. (very high chances I think too);
4. Unworthiness always puts you in debt to anyone and everyone who shows you the slightest degree of attention or love or energy. Eventually, in this form of bankrupt relationship, your benefactors will demand or expect more than you are able or willing to give. This is the precise moment they will choose to call in the loan; (I can relate 99.99%);
5. When you do not believe that who you are and what you do is good enough, that message will contaminate everything you do. When doubt is present in your consciousness it indicates a much more profound problem. It is a story that we tell ourselves about who we are and what we do and do not deserve in life. Your personal lie is a function of all of the broken pieces of your puzzle—all of the elements of your history, all of your experiences, all that you have been taught about yourself merging with all that you have made up about yourself. 

And now three lessons she shared which helped her find peace amidst all those broken pieces

1. Until and unless you know that you are enough just the way you are, you will always be driven to look for more. Knowing that you are enough is a function of consciousness. Your enough-ness develops in direct proportion to the relationship you have with your true identity. Until you wholeheartedly believe in your own worth, in spite your of accomplishments and possessions, there will be a void in your Spirit. I had more than a void. (here is my comment: this is what l wanted);
2. When you are starting your life over, with a new sense of self, who you once were is going to challenge you. Who you once were is going to dangle old carrots, old wounds and issues, in front of your face. When that happens, you will be tempted to revert to old feelings, old patterns of thought, and old patterns of behavior. When, however, you have made up your mind that the old you is dead and buried, when you have embraced a certain level of clarity about who you are and are not, as well as who you are choosing to be, you have a different response;
3. “When you can tell the story and it doesn’t bring up any pain, you know it is healed.” (I got there Amen)

This really is the best way I can review this book – I broke down again so sourly two days ago, and bawled myself to instant sleep just where I was – I got up and with so much unconditional love and support – I decided to stick by the new response to ME and my Life. A big gratitude among others to Iyanla Vanzant and memoirs of hers like this one. I can’t rate this book any less than a 5/5: written in such down to earth english – so personal – so fine to read without a break.

About the Author

There isn’t anything I can say about Iyanla which isn’t everywhere and I mean including on O. here is a snipet from her website:

“What I have learned from all of the difficulties in my own life is that human beings have very thick skin. I call that skin, spirit, our Highest Most Powerful self. Spirit is the key to everything we desire. It is our weather-proofing, our Teflon, our line of credit that assures if we just keep putting one foot in front of the other, one day; there will be a miraculous payoff.”

Visit her website and there you’ll find all the links you need to that great woman described as: ” one who embodies a no-nonsense approach in her message and teaching style. Outspoken, fiery, transparent, truthful, and sage-like”.

Release those bags: A picture which says it all…

I truly wish it were not so easier said than done. I however think the emphasis is in striving to release them and not to look back. To care about our mental wellbeing and do something as soon as we can so the weight of those bags not ruin our bones. Of keeping faith in hope, of accepting our limitations mindful of the need to release all of them bags quick before we collapse. Of forgiving ourselves above all, and of releasing the bags as we can; as we move on…

Happy sunday to all, peace and love and healing all the way

An Awesome Authograph

Dear Marie, thanks for your contributions and your enthusiasm

Hello World,

I just stumbled across this autograph from the last boss I had in Belgium. You can refresh the post I wrote about the best thing she ever did to me here, I mean sacking me – so I could become my own boss and try my best for me and posterity. I hold her in very high esteem and am very grateful to my Almighty Stars for having met her and won her confidfence for over two years.

Have a nice week you all

P.S: Ironically that authograph was signed the first time she summoned me with the intention of letting me off because the team had already started complaining. I had told her then I would go if she really felt I should, that I’ll appreciate her honest feedback in the form of an authograph, and finally that I knew that when one door closes several others open up. The trouble is in looking so regretfully at that which just closed… When I said these, she gave me what she thought was a last assignment, to come up with a project plan and gave me 24 hours to do, we ended up working together for over 2 years. The rest is an ongoing journey in my own country as my own boss.

A Glimpse into my cycling moods…

Finding that strength isn’t ever easy to say the least…

Hello world, my week is not starting off as planned, and sometimes I think of my life as a shop. I once sold in a shop my mum owned at some point, and I remember opening the shop each morning not knowing which type of customers I was going to have to deal with that day. There are different types of customers as you all know, and customer relations is a feat of its own.

My Personal Shop this weekend

It was a weekend with lots of travelling and interludes. I was in Spain since Wednesday for a workshop, and yes I registered a big appointment from an initial disappointment. On Saturday morning, we left the village of Onati for an hour and plus bus ride to the city of Bilbao, ahead of our flights back. The morning was already taking off on a deep low, because my first son was graduating from primary (elementary) school, and my current status as a Transcontinetal Mother hit me hard. I am glad my dearest mum attended his ceremony and kept me up to date on whatsapp. I’ll never be grateful enough to my best heroine and Prodigal Mother. I cried some, but they were more for joy – em mixed to be honest. Luckily I had some friends to be chatting with along the line and I must thank especially June my Jamaican Heroine for being available on whatsapp that whole morning.

The trip back to Brussels took at least 8 good hours because take off for Madrid was at noon, stop over 1 hour, then late departure, then arrival in Brussels at 6 pm. My dear Ss Hero was at the airport to pick me up. Simply touching! I was doing much better by then, better enough to accept an invitation to finally go and check out Brussels By Night!!!

Crying as hard as I Danced

After two hours of serious dancing, I knew my body and feet had kept enough score. I had to leave. Although impulse and compulsion are still ‘gears in my ‘life’s car’, ‘invisible tags on my personal shop window’, I am learning to read the ‘writings on the wall’. However, back home, payback started early. My feet were sort of swollen and a foot bath was imperative.

Feet Bath; Pay back time

Sunday saw me groggy and I fought myself out of bed and limped around doing what had to be done, including packing and laundry. The weather didn’t help, it rained cats and whoever… I couldn’t even go to my friend’s. There was at least very good news too, my friend Pammy who had lost her voice over two months ago, started talking again and I heard her on phone. Then I got a call from someone I was expecting something from. I was told it wasn’t going to be. I first tried not to cry. Talked with another friend who just happened to call me shortly thereafter. He cheered me on. But his cheer just swelled my pain. The tears started pouring like the rain outside. I wish I could do a head bath this time around!!! When my friend asked why I was crying so hard, hell I didn’t know!!!

Coping

This is how my moods can cycle in one single day. At least I have come to inevitably realize the power of self motivation and the value of true friends. I started trying to motivate myself, considering myself one of the clients I could be coaching. I also reached out that late to my Ss Hero, and fortunately he wasn’t mad at me for skyping that late. We spoke for a good 45 minutes and I felt much better. The headaches didn’t go, but I knew with some sleep no matter how minimal, they would. I have tried tranquillizers and anti-depressants and Heaven and mum know how terrible I look and feel after taking them pills. I am so grateful I am not at that level anymore and hope not to get there.

And so to you my friends with such cycles

I know my cycles may be nothing to write about in the eyes of some of my other ‘shaggy’ friends. I know for some of them, it’s plain  “rapid and uncontrolled full swing”. At least I can truly empathize. Please, try to work out a rescue plan and coping strategy before the “electrical haywire”. Remember the few friends you may have be it on or offline. Reach out for help. There is no shame in needing help. Cry, write, sing, pray, read, paint, even dance if you can. Just try something while counting your breathing to at least 100… I am doing just that and I write as it flows with no mask on…, TAKING IT ONE MOMENT AT A TIME BECAUSE AT LEAST AM ALIVE…

F4 to My Memoir: A Woman of Faith indeed, By Barb Parker

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  On Sunday, I host yet again another event on Facebook to launch my memoir . I had done this for each of my previous works, and the attendees have been increasing with each book launch. I was therefore looking forward to sharing the various forewords to this memoir before the D-Day. You can read them by clicking F1, F2, F3(1), or F3 (2) if you missed reading any of them.

  The F4 is from my dear friend Barb Parker all the way in Canada and once more I most honoured and humbled to have such people in my circles.

  ” It was an honour to be chosen to edit and proofread Marie’s memoir. Although Marie and I have never met in person, we share a love for writing, helping others and facing challenges with courage and Faith. Marie inspires me through her writing and encourages me with her strong desire to Dream Big and follow her Dreams.

  With each one of Marie’s books that I have read, I realise that people are placed in our path for a reason. Perhaps I will never meet Marie’s family, but I have come to know Marie’s family through her words. I may never travel to the places where Marie has travelled, but I can now create in my mind, a picture of her homeland, her places of studies, her bus routes, and her places of residency. This was made possible by Marie’s creativity through her words, which pull the reader into her world.

  Marie is a dynamic writer, an inspiration to All women. When her world seems to be almost shattered, she has the courage to push forward, stand strong and keep moving forward with dignity and courage until she reaches her ultimate goal.

Marie, much like myself, relies on her “Faith” to get her to the next level, whether it be in her writing, her speaking, her   travels, or her daily commitments in life.

I am Blessed to call Marie A. Abanga, a “Friend” and I trust each person she meets along her journey will be inspired by her strength, determination and dedication to make this world a better place. Barb Parker- Canada, Author “My Sister’s Journey From Headache to Heartache, and “The Choice My Path My Destiny”

Milk & More Musings from Me…

Almost a whole year before I could smile again about milk

Hello world, this is a saturday impromtu post, but I just felt the need to share some milk and more musings and from Me…

I recall a post on what a mere gallon of milk did to me, that was over two months ago and it was my first visit to this supermarket in the Nederlands. I had felt so bad then that I thought I wouldn’t ever want to go there again. Well, there were some other reasons too you know.

Anyway, this morning I was invited to come along once more. And guess what, I not only did, but I decided to make the most of that trip.

 

I even got to see a vessel from the Maersk Shipping line sail by, and this was oh so nostaligic. I have two dear cousins working with Maersk in Cameroon, I did a field trip on one of the vessels back then for my diploma in Shipping and Logisctics, and em I’ll be relocating home in August and all this are just signs you can say?

Well, look keenly to see the vessel on the sea 🙂

I am happy to have braved it, and to have gotten myself a gallon of milk. I have already drank a third of it, hoping it doesn’t add to my belly fat oh!

I hope I can get there by July?

I saw these models in a shopping window and will very much wish to be dressed like this in the summer, but hmm, I really hope milk helps me loose the belly flabs left and not do the contrary.

Indeed it sometimes can be this enjoyable

Moods indeed make a difference. The first time I was in this same setting, there were no pictures taken, and instead nervous rides to the other shops and back to Belgium. Today, it was a blisfull though chilly ride.

I am most grateful for my friends especially those I have made out here in Belgium. My time out here draws to a hopeful end, and I am best to fill my mental suitcase with tripple as many appointments for any disappointment I may have had.

Hurray to Me and You? Have you ever had such funny experiences you may want to share in the comments?

P.S: To crown my afternoon of bliss, I went biking into the wild wild west (uh huh am sort of a mini pro now and can even bike with only one hand) and just had so much fun getting lost, crossing the canal, finding my way and getting lost all over again. Here are some sights:

On the ferry crossing to the otherside of…

I haven’t even had 3 opportunities of seeing live cukoos like these since coming to Belgium

No trespoassing, so about turn

Ok, somebody’s lost now

My Healing Journey: Calling Domestic Abuse by its name

Hi all, this is going to be a brief but once more poignant post. I am preparing for my book launch on Facebook next Sunday the 24th of May, and I heartily invite any of you who can make it to join us.

I want to share a guest post I did on June my Jamaican Heroine‘s blog. Her blog is building a very warm niche for domestic abuse victims and it has lots of useful resources and other articles too. I wrote about how my healing from domestic abuse started when I decided to call it as such. June calls me a strong woman, but I find my strength from within. I find it in my Faith which has stood the test of time.

Sometimes we hurt until we just can’t go on anymore. Then we make the radical decision to call out it by its name. That is what Nancy did after 20 years of bondage. She wrote the F2 to my memoir and I am most obliged to this amazing woman and friend of mine. In my own case, I am calling them out by their various names, and I am sharing my healing journey in various memoirs. The first one on My Unconditional Loves: My Hurts, My Adulteries, My Redemption, not only opened the healing gates for me, but it even earned me a Voice of the Voiceless Award.

I wish us all a happy weekend and lots of peace and grace in your respective journeys. You may not be there yet, you may not be up to writing a memoir yet, but it can only get better if only you dare to name those hurts and face them as an imperative part of your healing journey.

F2 to my Memoir

When I published F1 last Tuesday, I advised to buckle up for F2. I am honoured to know Nancy through the Knowledge Gateway for Women’s Empowerement. She is one dynamic entrepreneur and author, one who has indeed made a remarkable victory over voilence and is now imapcting several other women including my modest self.

Domestic Violence and Codes of Silence, By Nancy Salamone (A Former Wallstreet Executive)

Domestic violence is a social disease that carries with it a “culture of silence”. In fact if you Google “culture of silence and domestic violence” you get over 1.7 million returns. Domestic violence is still one of the most under-reported crimes and it is the culture of silence that shames women (and yes even men), into enduring domestic violence.

I know firsthand about the insidious nature of a “culture of silence”. I was brought up in a Sicilian Roman Catholic family in New York. And the code of silence pervasive in Sicilian culture is known as Omerta. Omerta is a popular attitude and code of honor common in areas of southern Italy (such as Sicily), where criminal organizations like the Mafia are strong. A common definition of “omerta” is “code of silence.” A frequent misconception is that the Mafia created omerta. In fact, Sicilians adopted the code long before the emergence of the Cosa Nostra. Some date omerta to the sixteenth century, when it was used as a way of opposing Spanish rule. To this day, for generations of Sicilians, this code is alive and operative.

It is that code of silence that kept me from divulging to anyone the abuse I suffered at the hands of my ex-husband. I endured the abuse for 20 years. Part of the reason I never told anyone about the abuse I endured was in part because of my Sicilian background, which instructed us to, “Carry your cross in silence.” You don’t tell anyone anything that might embarrass you or your family. And that’s what I did.

It is not just Sicilian culture that has a code of silence. In a recent article I read about life in Estonia under Soviet rule, the author talks about how in school, girls had to be silent and polite. The reason was that girls were perceived to be the “stupid ones”. Their role was to be pretty. Women were brainwashed into believing they are not worth much. If you are brought up to believe you are worthless then it is not unusual for you to remain silent about domestic violence as you are “brainwashed” into believing “you deserve” to be abused. (http://www.datelinebaltics.org/2014/04/24/a-culture-of-silence/)

In the Muslim culture it is not unusual for women who gather the courage to report domestic violence to be told to go back to their abusers for the sake of the family and honor and to forgive their spouse and be patient with him. It is no surprise that if a woman does not get the support she needs when she has the courage to speak out, she then remains silent.

(http://muslimmatters.org/2011/10/19/domestic-violence-series-a-hidden-evil-and-muslim-communities/)

Nigeria has a history of violence against women and in part due to a culture of silence that forces young girls to become child brides and endure rape and domestic violence. Gender violence in Nigeria is an epidemic and according to activists the culture of silence, weak laws and lack of support for victims of violence against women and girls are some of the reasons. Probably the same applies for Cameroon, Africa and the world at large.

(http://www.channelstv.com/2014/12/14/culture-silence-nigeria-rising-gender-based-violence/)

In the United States the NFL (http://www.nfl.com/) (National Football League) for years covered up domestic violence crimes committed by some of their players. It was not until a despicable video surfaced depicting a major player punching his fiancée in an elevator and knocking her unconscious, did the NFL decide to address the issue. A major reason the NFL had to address domestic violence in their league was due to a huge public outcry. If the video had not surfaced I believe the culture of silence would still persist in the NFL. After the incident many NFL wives have spoken reported how the NFL has not only covered up domestic violence but also nurtured it.

(http://www.dailymail.co.uk/video/nfl/video-1118515/NFL-player-Ray-Rice-punches-fiancee-Janay-Palmerface.html) (http://www.sbnation.com/nfl/2014/10/17/6994085/nfl-domestic-abuse-coverup).

Cultures of silence exist around the world and force m illions of women (and men), to believe there is no way out of abusive situations. These cultures of silence exist regardless of the strength of a country’s advocacy. It is up to all of us to speak out loud and clear “Enough is Enough” when it comes to domestic violence.

©Copyright 2015. Nancy Salamone. All Rights Reserved. Author, Speaker and Advocate against domestic violence Founder & CEO The Business of Me 

I am so honoured to know Nancy

Introducing part of my inspiration and the TOC for my featured publication

Dear all, as I continue my hiatus week and whatever transition period I may have; I have been reading and writing and of course sending out a couple of applications for a new assignment. Indeed, my faith is on the blooming path. I thus thought to share a brief introduction of my next memoir which could not have been started and finished at a better moment.

My mum just shared with me how my brother’s death came along when her faith was at its weakest. And yet, that moment also got her (thanks to all the support she also got from various corners), to hop quickly back onto the faith wagon especially in the preservation of the sanity of her mind, body and spirit.

My faith is not at its weakest right now. Fortunately! It however was a couple of months ago. The current moment to me is just another of those thrilling trial periods. Indeed, I feel sort of battered once more by this life of life! Yes, I look kind of tattered, but I refuse to be shattered. I am going for a retreat this very afternoon.

In my various readings, four authors have greatly inspired me to write and publish this second memoir of mine. Maya Angelou of Blessed and revered memory, especially with her titles “Letter to my Daughter”, and “A Woman’s Heart”. Like her, I have no daughter, but just like her, I’ll write the epilogue of this book in the form of a letter to the daughter I lost the day after she was born.

The next is Iyanla Vanzart the power spiritual guru on Oprah’s Lifeclass. She has several must reads in which she writes from her heart and soul. Her work: “Peace from Broken Pieces – How to get through what you are going through”, got me hooked till the last word, all in one night.

The third author I am pointing out, is none other than Terrie M. Williams with her outstanding publication – “Black Pain: It just Looks Like We’re Not Hurting”. Really, I first thought the Black referred to Black as in skin colour. I now think it fits the Blackness of Melancholia which could so engross you and really make you pick up a knife like I once did.

The Fourth author I want to acknowledge, is Nancy Salamone. She broke ‘conventions’, the Sicilian word I gather is omertà. She wrote about her domestic abuse saga for 20 good years. I definitely pale so much in comparison to her. Yet I identify with the living parallel lives aspect. I am honoured to have touched based with Nancy, and I look forward to someday taking a course in her ‘The Business of Me’ programme. Nancy’s book which is a gut wrenching read, is titled: “Nancy’s Story, a Victory over Violence”.

And here is the TOC:

Domestic Abuse

My Flights to the Wilderness

Mary Just Come aka MJC

Settling ‘down’

My Super Super (Ss) Hero

Dare 2 Dare

Mary Knows Plenty aka MKP

Transcontinental Mother

Keeping Faith

The’ Not So’ Golden Child

Epilogue: Letter to Ange Claire, my departed daughter

Dear Gentle readers and followers, it is on this note that I wish you all a happy mid week! Thank you all so much especially to my most recent followers. I know have almost 300… Wow, I am speechless!

Who is a Simpleton?

am still working on this; am no genius and hopefully not a simpleton

He/She is : “a foolish person with lack of intelligence, common sense, and street smart”  ( urban dictionary)

I am strongly of the opinion that simpletons or fools or even madmen, are only that much according to society’s conventions.

I personally had a friend by our law firm, he was a madman and paradoxically, he was called Gabriel. I called him Massa Gaby. He will sit by my car the whole day and watch over it. I remember having a problem with the automatic locks and that car having to stay for a whole month unblocked. I knew none will risk Massa Gaby’s wrath by venturing too near.

He was always reading, mainly religious leaflets and sometimes old magazines. He told me lots of things, both sense and non sense.

I brought Gaby food, goodies and yes even a change of clothes when he agreed he was going to change whatever rags he had on. He indeed put on the suit and other clothes I gave him and even changed his tattered shoes for those I brought.

We are by nature scared of what we don’t know or can’t understand. We are more comfortable going by conventional beliefs, norms and practices. Anyway, aren’t we organized communities, societies and systems of sorts? Hey, I think anyone meeting my brother at either of his ‘shaggy’ (a term I coined for mentally challenged persons like myself) stages of an existence, would have been quick to qualify him a simpleton.  I am no exempt – hence the title of this work in his honour.

P.S I deliberately chose this whatever font today to see what comes of it (am I descending that bad into simpleton world? 🙂 )

© Marie Abanga 2014