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Author: Shannon PeelPublisher: MarketAPeelCopyright 2023Only Available in DigitalISBN: 978-0-9917694-6-9How this Book WorksThis digital book is not like any book you have experienced up to this point, which is why it comes with instructions. I encourage you to be apart of the conversation and share your ideas by commenting when the opportunity arises and giving your feedback about your experiences. This is more than a book, it is a discussion.You will encounter video, audio, and visual features to expand on ideas and go deeper into the topics you are interested in. You will be able to download PDF worksheets to help you gure out how to use the ideas you discover for your life, career, and business. It is my hope you nd the solutions you are looking for to create and appealing life, career, or business. Don’t Miss Out - Get Notied about New Stories

You are able to view this bookwithout buying it, however if youwant access to all the content,you need to invest a one timepayment of $49, which includes:Access to workbook contentAccess to video contentAccess to community groupThis is a linkto go deeperinto the topicsThis icon takes you tothe contents / indexfor the bookTap install on the upper rightcorner to access this book easilyon your device / desktopWelcome to theAPeeling Experience

The Goal of this StoryAPeel Book This book is filled with fictionalized stories about women who have a victimization mentality to help you understand what it looks like and how others react to those who are victims to help you change the way you think about your life. My goal is to provide you with a unique method of self awareness, introspection, and education that will give you the framework to recast yourself as the hero of your story and not the victim.There are articles about victimization and other topics to help you throughout the book. You can watch the videos where I share more about my process, story, and insights into recovery to become the hero of my story. There are worksheets you can download to guide you through deconstructing the stories and understanding the victimization mentality, while redefining your own narrative. Join the community and share your insights and thoughts. Come out to virtual chats to find support, discuss ideas, and build community. There is something for everyone in this StoryAPeel program.

! Welcome to the Story of Women. Inside these pages you will explore victimization mentality and how the role we cast ourselves in get in the way of our success. "! You will learn how to reframe your narrative to present yourself to the world as a hero instead of a victim. It will also help you to develop methods to help others to overcome their own victim mentality. "! The divisiveness of the world of us verses them is fuelled by each side casting themselves in the role of victims of the other side, which results in closing off communication as each side doesn’t feel heard. If you want to help heal the world, you need to be able to provide people with a safe place to share their story while being guided to a deeper understanding of their truth, reality, and interactiveness with others. "! I hope you will learn to navigate victimization to change the world.

Understanding Victim Mentality: In a world where personal responsibility and empowerment are often emphasized, one mindset can hold people back from realizing their full potential: the victim mentality. This mental framework can prevent individuals from making progress, fostering resilience, and taking control of their lives. But what exactly is victim mentality, what causes it, and how can it be overcome?What is Victim Mentality?Victim mentality is a psychological condition in which an individual perceives themselves as constantly being at the mercy of external forces, circumstances, or other people. Individuals who embody this mindset often feel powerless, believing that their struggles are inevitable and out of their control.People with a victim mentality tend to blame others for their problems, believe that life is unfair, and feel like they are being treated unjustly. This mindset can affect various aspects of life, including personal relationships, career, and mental health. Take a moment to think about those who you perceive as having a victim mentality. Do you feel compelled to move towards them or away from them?

VictimsFocus on the problem not solutionsRefuse to take responsibilityFeel powerless to make impactful changeBlame others for their situationFeel sorry for themselves Focus on their pain not on gratitudeDon’t grow or move their story forwardThey look to others to save them or help themThey are comfortable in their sadness They cannot see options, opportunities, or choicesTheir favourite game is “I have it worse than you”They see themselves as failures Shame, fear, and disappointment run their livesTake things personally and talk in absolutesUse all or nothing words like, everyone, no one, allDo not understand how their behaviours affect othersDo not see people as they are but rather as they want them to beThe freeze up instead of taking actionMake excuses to avoid being accountable for the situationHave a skewed sense of justice due to seeing things as black n whiteCompare themselves to others who are more successfulBelieve others have it easier than they do Can’t see the reality of a situation due to what they want it to be©MarketAPeel 2024

Focus on the solutions not the problemsTake responsibility for solving problemsBelieve they can facilitate impactful changeDon’t blame anyone, including themselves for situationsTakes action instead of wallowing in self pityFocus on thee good things in their lives and are gratefulStrive to keep growing as a person to be better each dayThey don’t look to others to save them, they figure it outThey put themselves in uncomfortable situations to growThey see options, opportunities, and choices everywhereTheir favourite game is “This is the reality I want to create”They find lessons in their failures and keep trying Courage, understanding, and action run their livesTake don’t take things personally Use clarifying words like, some, a person’s name, at times, Understand their behaviours affect others Know people for who they are and their limitations, fears, shame Don’t expect others to be what they want them to beAre accountable for their choices, actions, words, and behavioursKnow their are grey areas and can empathize with the other sideDoesn’t compare themselves to othersKnows everyone struggles and strives to understand their painSees the forest for the trees, they can see the reality of situations.Heroes©MarketAPeel 2024

“Mom where are my shirts?”“Shirts? In your closet?”“No.”“Folded in a basket?”“No.”“Damn. Are you sure?”“Ya. Never mind I found them.”“Where?”“Wet and stinky in the washing machine. When did you wash them?”I try to think. I can’t really remember when I did.“Uhm. Do you have a dirty one that you can wear?”Sending my daughter to school in dirty clothes, what would my mother say? Thingis I know exactly what she’d say, she told me just last week.“You just need to do things during work breaks. You work from home, how hardcan it be to stop, take a break, switch out the laundry, do a load of dishes, sweep theoor, then go back to work?”It is a good question. I generally don’t take breaks and if I do, I’m surng thenet or checking my social media. I don’t really think to do the laundry. Hence mydaughter yelling at me about how hard done by she is because she has to wear a shirtshe already wore to school. Heaven help us, what will the kids think? What will herteachers think? Will they call social services if her shirt gets dirty enough?My husband comes down to save the day. He does this a lot. He’d grabs a coupleof clean shirts, that she doesn’t like, out of her dresser, walks into the kitchen and says,“Your choice the dirty one, one of these, a smelly one, or you could just go in yourbra. Up to you.”I choke on my coffee. ‘And if she’d chosen to go in her bra, then what?’ Shedoesn’t. She just says Daaaad in that oh you’re so embarrassing way teen girls haveand grabs a clean one out of his hand.“I’ll go run the load in the washer, pour me a cup of coffee for when I get back,” hesays and disappears into the laundry room.

My gawd, I can’t even imagine what my great-grandmother did before washing machines were invented. I turn, pour my husband a cup of coffee, add two teaspoons of sugar, and pop a bagel into the toaster for his breakfast. Was there ever a time when it was simple to be a woman? Was it easier back in the day when men were men and women were women and everyone knew their place? I doubt that made it any simpler. At least I hope it didn’t because if their lives were simpler, better, more productive than ours are today, what was the point of struggling for feminism and equality? It doesn’t always feel like it made women’s lives better. It feels like more pressure, more stress, and more responsibilities. It also feels like something is missing. Like this can’t be all there is to life? Like it’s all one big revolving wheel that goes nowhere. I’ve lled the dishwasher and am just turning it on when I feel his strong arms wrap around me from behind kissing my neck. I turn with his mug in hand.“Your coffee, kind sir.” “Sugar?”I look at him, shake my head, and turn to butter his bagel. “Gus and Rose’s place Sunday afternoon?” He asks and I nod. “Girls’ night after?” I nod again. “And I’m stuck babysitting?” “Parenting dear. It’s called parenting when the kids are yours.” “Are you sure they’re mine.”“Positive.”That’s a typical morning. Every day it’s the same. A chore I forgot to do, my husband swooping in to x things, my kids needing something or disapproving of something I did or didn’t do. Each day is pretty much the same; chores, kids, work, bed. Always the same. Perfectly the same. Perfect. The perfect life.I am forty years old. I have a wonderful, loving husband, two well-adjusted kids, a gorgeous home in a suburban neighbourhood, and a career. I have a good life and I feel like I am missing something, like I’ve forgotten something, done something wrong.

Did my mother feel this way? Did my grandmother? Did my great-grandmother? Did my grandmother ever forget to switch over the wash and have to wash the load two more times before it made it into the dryer? Did she own a dryer? Did she have to run her kids around from one activity to the other, help them with homework more advanced than when she’d gone to school? Did she feel the pressure of friends, family and society to be perfect? Always feeling judged? Did she ever look at her life and wonder if she made the right choices? Will it be different when my daughter is forty? By then everyone will probably just swallow a pill and say, “that’s dinner.” So, if women have more time because they don’t have to cook, will life be any different? Or will my daughter be looking at forty saying I think I forgot to do something. Will she have regrets? I hope not. I hope she knows what she wants and can be satised, happy, and in love. When the story was called 40 something...  Press play

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Just sign the offer.I’m waiting with my client in the other boardroom waiting for her ex husband tosign the divorce papers and settlement offer. He’s drawn this out too long and cost myclient too much money. It should have been simple, easy, 50/50 split. No such thingas an easy divorce. People think the law is black and white, but it's not, it's full of loop-holes, precedents, arguments, and procedures.I like practicing law. I enjoy putting a case together and arguing the points to getthe best deal for my client. It’s like a game of chess. You gure out what you’re clientreally wants and what they are willing to compromise, then you build a game plan.In my opinion it’s best when my client makes the rst move, that way we can ask foreverything they are legally entitled to and have more control over the chessboard atthe start. Then it’s just a matter of give and take. She’ll give you the car in exchangefor the home’s contents. He’ll give you the savings account balance and you waiverights to his pension plan. Figuring out what the other side will be willing to exchangeand making the right moves so my client will get what she really wants.This case. Not so easy.He decided to represent himself. Never a good thing. He’s cocky and believes heknows the law better than I do because he read some textbooks and got some freeadvice. He’s using every trick he can come up with to draw this out and my client isleft holding the bill. Thing is, I still have one ace up my sleeve and if we have to go tocourt, I’m using it, that is if my client doesn’t chicken out.“Maybe we should just give him what he wants. I don’t want to do this anymore. Iwant it to be over.” My client is pacing back and forth. “I mean I don’t really use thevacation house. He can have it. I can’t take the stress anymore.”“STOP.” She stops pacing and looks at me. “I know you’ll give away the farm justto have this over. You have to let me go at him with everything. We’ve been as nice aswe can. If he’s going to cost you more, you have no choice.”“I don’t know. I just can’t do this anymore. The stress is too much.”“I understand. I’ve been there. Right now, you’re only ghting for what’s fair, in factless than fair. You’ve already given him more than he’s legally entitled to. The media-

tion judge is going over it with him now. Let’s just wait and see what happens rst.” Judges don’t like it when someone wastes the courts time or plays games to punish the other party by using the system, that’s what this guy is doing. He thinks he’s pull-ing the wool over everyone’s eyes, but he’s not. I hate men like him. The door opens and the mediation judge comes in.“I am sorry, he won’t listen to reason. I’ve tried explaining the laws to him and what will happen if he goes to court. He’s determined to play lawyer, he wants his day in court.” The judge says.I smile. “No. No. No. We should just give him what he wants.”“Sherry, listen. I know this is hard.”“It’s expensive, that’s what it is. And now you want me to pay for experts.”“I know. He wants it to be expensive for you. He’s punishing you.”“I know. I just… Oh, I am tired.”“We’ve talked about the next step. Are you prepared to go ahead with it?”“Do I have any other choice?”“Not really. This is for the best. I know court is scary and that you are scared about what a judge will say. I can’t say for certain which way it will go, but if we do this, I be-lieve you will come out better off than that deal we just gave him. OK?”“Are you sure it’s going to cost that much?”“I’m afraid so, but if I’m right then you’ll have the money to cover it.”She nods and I open my briefcase to take out papers to give to the mediating judge. “I have a petition for a full psychological assessment of both parents, the children, and everyone who lives in the homes. Names are there.”“Let’s take a look.” The Judge reads the paperwork. “It all looks in order.” He signs one copy and hands it to me. He signs the second copy to present to the other party. “I’m not done.”He cocks his head at me, curiosity in his eyes. I smile at him and hand him another set of papers.

“This is a letter stating my client rescinds all offers up to this point and requestscopies of all nancial documents again.”“Again? Why do you want those?” The judge asks.“Because my ofce’s forensic accountant believes he may have some money hid-den. He’ll go looking for it now. Don’t tell him we are looking.”“They always think they can get away with it.” He says.“I know. He’s not going to be happy when he gets these. If you want I’ll get securityup here before you present him with the papers. He has a temper.”I turn to my client. She’s as white as a sheet, I’m scared she might faint. I grab herarm to guide her to the closest chair.“What’s wrong?”“I’m gonna be sick.” With that, she pukes all over my new suit.

Divorce RatesDoes it feel like divorce is more common than it was 30, 40, 50 years ago? !" Your experiences will effect your answer. I grew up in a small town bubble where divorce was rare, or so I thought. The message my mothergave me was divorce was never the answer, yet out of her and her siblings3 were divorced and two were not. On my father’s father’s side divorcewas non existent, even to our second and third cousins. Of the familyfriends, and there were a lot of them, none were divorced. So, myimpression of divorce in the 80s was that it was a rare occurrence, yet thefacts tell a very different story. !" That is the thing about our impressions of the world and the stories we tell ourselves, they are based on personal experiences, lies, andincomplete facts. Back in the 80s with limited access to media and data, Ican understand how my viewpoint was not challenged. However today,with access to studies, statistics, and media reports, there is ampleevidence to break our delusions. !"!Be Careful of the Facts:" Statistics tell a story, but they can also be manipulated to tell the story you want to tell instead of the truth. Take a look at the two graphsabout divorce in the US and see how the story of divorce changes as thefull picture comes together. Share your insights in the community.

Why do you think that the Ratio of divorces to marriages remains high when the number of divorces fell between the early 90s and 2020? Graph's from robslink.com

Consequences of Victim Mentality Living with a victim mentality can have significant emotional, relational, and professional consequences. Though the mindset may offer temporary relief or comfort in avoiding responsibility, the long-term impact can be deeply detrimental.Personal ConsequencesStagnation and lack of growth: A person who sees themselves as a victim may feel that there is little they can do to change their situation. This feeling of powerlessness can lead to inaction, preventing personal growth and success.Chronic stress: Constantly focusing on injustices, real or perceived, can lead to anxiety, depression, and heightened stress levels. The belief that life is unfair can fuel negative emotions and keep individuals stuck in a cycle of frustration.Low self-esteem: Victim mentality often involves negative self-talk, leading individuals to feel worthless or incapable. A lack of self-efficacy — the belief that one can influence outcomes through their own efforts — diminishes self-esteem and confidence.

Relational ConsequencesIsolation: Relationships with people who feel like perpetual victims can become emotionally draining. Others may start to distance themselves, feeling that the victim is always seeking sympathy or making demands without offering solutions. Over time, this can lead to isolation.Blame and conflict: A victim mentality can make it difficult for people to accept responsibility for their actions or their role in conflict. This can strain relationships, causing resentment, unresolved issues, and recurring arguments.Professional ConsequencesCareer stagnation: People with a victim mentality may struggle in the workplace due to a lack of initiative, adaptability, or openness to feedback. The belief that they are being unfairly treated can make it hard to collaborate effectively with others or pursue career advancement.Missed opportunities: Focusing on perceived injustice or being overly sensitive to setbacks can blind individuals to opportunities for growth or improvement. Instead of seeking solutions, they may be trapped in a mindset of hopelessness.

I love my children, I do. I swear I do.It’s just, well, who are these people who live in my house? One minute they are my sweet amazing well behaved children, the next they became these things, these hormone driven crazy Teenagers who can drive a sane woman, crazy. I’m on my way to the loony bin, I tell you.Take my oldest, Alexis. She has been a struggle every day since she was conceived.I endured 26 hours of labour getting her into this world. That, on top of a difcult pregnancy, where I thought my stomach was going to come out my mouth I was retching so much. Ever have the stomach u? Well this was that for months on end. I was sure I was going to die, so did the doctors, and I ended up in the hospital with tubes feeding me the nutrients she needed to grow.The day she turned 13, she became an absolute nightmare. It’s been World War 3 in our house, as she tries to get away with everything from, wearing too much make up and too little clothes, to staying out after curfew getting drunk and high. I swear if I’d known how hard headed she was going to be, I would have left her at the hospital, or maybe just named her donkey.Next came Isabella and she was an easy pregnancy, well by then they’d invented these pills for morning sickness and I was popping them like gummy candies. They are a God send. I gained so much weight, I was going to burst. The labour was a struggle, at rst, and then the monitors started going off. I was scared she was dying. She was in distress, so I was wheeled into the O.R. for a c-section. Seriously, you should consider booking one of these the day you nd out your pregnant. It’s a much easier way to get that baby out of you and into the world.Isabella was a model child, until fourteen, when she met a boy and not just any boy. She had to fall for Johnny an eighteen-year-old rebel with long multi coloured hair, a tat-too and facial piercings, at one point I counted seven. Can you imagine having someone punch seven holes into your face? Not to mention what that kid did to his ear lobes.Well, I thought Gus was gonna shoot him the minute he saw the boy. We don’t own a gun, but Gus was ready to go out and buy one. From that moment on

she’s been a struggle with outrageous requests, which Gus and I put a stop to. No way ismy daughter walking around with a nose ring, or any part of her face pierced, her bodytattooed or her hair any colour, except the rich brown God intended. For mercy’s sake.Give that girl one inch and she’ll be headed to hell.Jessica was my third girl. She was always a quiet serious little girl, such an easy child.She never gave me any trouble as a toddler or preschooler. She brings home the bestmarks from school. She’s perfect really. Quiet, studious, smart, and keeps to herself.Always reading or doing homework in her room, I rarely ever see her.When she became a teenager, not much changed. Well, her moods became a littledarker at times and she seems to mope more than I’d like, still, she is doing just ne.Then came Aiden. Finally, a boy.My pregnancy with him was so perfect. Barely any morning sickness and I had lots ofenergy. I love my girls, however, I wanted to give Gus a boy so badly. Right from the min-ute that boy could move, he was into everything. I was forever running after him. It wasexhausting. Busy, busy, busy, that boy. He’s grown into a talented athlete, a natural Gussays. At 13 he’s already on the school Football team. There isn’t any sport he couldn’texcel at.He just turned 13 and I am beginning to see the Teenager signs already. He stoppedhugging me, I was quite upset the rst time it happened, but he’s becoming a man, youknow, and a mother has to expect these things. He hangs out with friends after schoolsomewhere, but I am not sure exactly where. I nd it quite frustrating at times. I need toknow where he is at all times, I tell him, of course he doesn’t listen. Such a boy, my Aiden.I enjoyed my children’s toddler years, preschool years, elementary years. They werealways so sweet, so loving, and we’d have so much fun together. Now, oh my. God giveme strength to make it through a day without wanting to strangle one of them, especiallyAlexis and Isabella.Being a mother is wonderful, I’m just wondering, is there a place I can send them fortheir teen years, a place where I could visit on occasion and then when they are normalagain, they can come home?Just asking.

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! Growing up in the 80s watching family shows similar to Parenthood, I saw storylines that showed audiences what ‘SHOULD’ happen in the real world between parents and their teens / young adults. However, these ‘SHOULD’ moments rarely occurred in the real world."! Instead, parents victimized their children by shaming them to conform. Overcoming shame of our childhood isn’t easy to overcome, however it is possible by understanding where the source of the shame came from and that it was not truth but a parenting tool taught to our parents by their parents who feared for their children’s futures. "! Use the journalling questions to help you write your shame story and dig deeper into the reasons your parents used shame, so you can move on to be the hero of your story.

I’m standing in line at the local food bank. You know, I used to drive by here every day and I had no idea it was here. Funny.It’s humiliating. I… Sorry… I mean… I’m grateful.I’m thankful that the kids are at Rose’s place and not here. I told her I had a doc-tor’s appointment. I couldn’t tell her I was at the welfare ofce and then coming here. I couldn’t. When I check in, the nice lady gives me a card that says three and another that says two. This means I’m able to collect food for three people and two school lunches. I should be grateful, and I am in a way, but I mean, it’s just, I’m not supposed to be here.I’m supposed to be able to take care of my kids. I’m supposed to be living in a nice house in an upscale neighbourhood. I’m supposed to be married with 2.5 kids and two cars in the driveway. That’s what adults are supposed to do, right?You know, I had that, I did. Really. Before I had to leave. I lived in a ve-bedroom house on a cul-de-sac, backing onto a quiet green belt. I lived there. I did, honest. I had four cars in the driveway. Well only one was mine, the oldest one, and the other three were my husband’s…Oh right, my ex husband, now. I have to remember that.It’s not fair. I did everything right. I did what I was supposed to do and here I am standing in line for food other people didn’t want. I guess it’s tting somehow, be-cause like this food, I am not wanted.Craig, that’s my ex, he still lives in our ve-bedroom house. He still has three cars and a good job. He hates his job, but the pay is really good, it just makes him misera-ble. It was good enough to keep us in that house. Good enough to keep the kitchen stocked with food. Good enough to keep the kids in good quality clothes and lots of shiny toys for him.It is a good paying job. He should be happy with it. He’s not. He says he will be happy now that I’m gone. He’ll be happy without me.I moved into a small two-bedroom basement suite in an old house outside town with my two kids. We t into it, somehow. I sleep on the couch because the nice lady

at the courthouse said it was better for the kids to have separate rooms ‘cause they’re a boy and girl. The courts will be happier if they have separate rooms, she told me. It’ll make it harder for Craig to take them, she said. I’m supposed to be giving them the same life they had before the separation, she said. I’m not. I can’t. I don’t make enough on welfare. Craig, when he feels like it, and I beg for it, gives me a few hun-dred dollars. I’d rather stand in this line than beg him for money.I wonder if she likes the kitchen? I miss my kitchen. The thought of her, Craig’s girlfriend, in my kitchen, in my life, it makes me sick. The pain in my throat burns it and my eyes have started watering, right here in this stupid line. I wipe the tears away quickly. I hope no one saw. I look down at my feet. I need new shoes.“Tuna or ground beef?” The lady behind the counter asks me.“Ground beef,” I answer.She gives me two frozen packages. I shufe on to get a couple carrots and some potatoes. I am grateful for the food. I am. It’s just that I’m used to roasts, steaks, and chicken. Ground beef? What am I supposed to do with that?Boxes of mac n cheese made with toxic orange food colouring. Craig would beat me for feeding the kids this. They aren’t allowed to eat this processed food. It’s food though. I can’t afford to say no to food.Rose wants me to get a lawyer and take him to court. Demand child support and my share. I can’t. She doesn’t understand. I’m not sure I understand. When Craig told me we were getting divorced, he told me no lawyers. He’d be fair, he said and we could do this without the courts, he said. We’d both be fair. This doesn’t feel fairHe told me the courts will mess everything up and cost a bunch of money, money we could use for the kids. The lawyers would take our kid’s money. He said the courts would decide where the kids lived. We could do this on our own, he said. He’d be fair, he said.Can the court make the kids live with him because he can afford them and I can’t? He says they can. The court lady said she couldn’t say what a judge would do. She said that the court would assess each situation and do what was best for the kids.

What is best for the kids?My neighbour Liz, she went to court and they took her kids away. She used to havethem almost as much as I have mine, all the time, but now she has them only half ofthe time. Liz said the judge hated her and was unfair. Would a judge hate me? Wouldhe force my kids to go live with him instead of always living with me? I can’t lose mykids. I just can’t.I put the apples and oranges they’ve given me into my bag, a weak smile on myface.“White or Brown?” Another woman asks.“Brown please.”She hands me two loaves of day old bread and I’m grateful for it. I am. Withoutthis, I would have nothing.“Are your kids allergic to peanuts?” I shake my head. “Here, you look like youcould use this.” She passes me a large jar of peanut butter and another jar of honey.I can’t even afford to buy my kids peanut butter and honey. The inside of my nose isburning. My eyes are blurring. I’m sobbing.I feel someone’s arms around me. It’s one of the ladies from behind the counter.I feel her pushing against my shoulder moving me towards the back. Hide. Hide thebroken woman who no one wants.“Here sit down. Here’s a box of tissues. Are you ok?”Her words sound absurd, but I nod. OK? Am I OK? Am I ever going to be OK again?

Behaviours Caused by Shame Shame impacts our behaviour, influencing how we interact with others, how we view ourselves, and how we respond to challenges. It’s a deeply emotional experience that can lead to both conscious and unconscious behaviours designed to protect ourselves from further humiliation or rejection. How shame affects our behaviour:•Avoidance and Withdrawal•People-Pleasing and Seeking External Validation•Perfectionism•Defensiveness and Denial•Aggression or Hostility•Excessive Perfectionism or Overwork•Substance Abuse and Self-Medication•Compulsive Seeking of Approval•Self-Isolation and Self-Loathing•Overcompensating or Acting Out•Difficulty Accepting Help or Support•Fear of Success or Fear of FailureShame can lead to avoidance, perfectionism, defensiveness, or self-destructive behaviours. Understanding the root of these behaviours is essential in breaking free from the negative influence of shame.

Get Out of the “Land of Should” !"! Lands of should are utopias we create in our minds about how the world should run according to us. Rarely do we take the needs, desires, and wants of others into account when we create these lands of should, as the whole point of them is about what we want. "! The problem starts when reality shows us that the world doesn’t run the way we think it aught to and we no longer get what we want. Understanding how the world works and the desires, needs, wants, and belief systems of others will help you navigate disappointment when your world of should comes up short. "! When you stay in the world of should, you will continue to be frustrated as those around you are given the opportunities you want. Are you working with others or trying to get them to live in your land of should?

Oh my head. The light’s too fucking bright. Fucking sun.Hangovers are the worst.I roll over and my hands connect with a hard body. Who is this? I open my eyes. At least he’s cute. Maybe twenty-ve. Great, he’ll wake up all hot to trot and my head feels like a freight train ran over it. I’ve got to get him out my condo. I roll over and my eyes begin to focus.Where the hell am I?It looks like a dorm room. Really, a dorm room? I’m at the University? This is the only way I’d ever get on campus. Shit.I slip quietly out of bed and try to locate my clothes, which seem to be everywhere. Thank God the room is a closet and he sleeps like the dead. I can’t seem to nd my panties. Was I wearing panties? I doubt it. Hell, if I was, he gets a souvenir.Opening the door slowly, as not to wake the young buck, I slip into a hallway lled with more half naked young bucks. Damn. So what, I look young enough to be a stu-dent and they’d be lucky to get an education from a woman who knows her stuff like I do. I walk out of the building with my head held high.Shit, there are kids all over the fucking place. I need a drink. Can someone please turn off the fucking sun already?Fumbling in my purse I nd my phone and call a cab. I have got to stop drinking so much. I try to piece together last night. There was dancing and of course drinking, lots and lots of drinking.Who’d I start the night with? I check the calendar on my smart phone. Date with Joe and a number. I text.What the hell happened last night?No responds by the time the cab shows up. I feel too crappy to be angry. I call Charlie and tell her where I woke up.“What about this Joe guy? Where is he?” She asks.“I don’t know. I don’t remember much about last night.”

I like to party. I party all the time, but I never get so out of control I don’t remember what happened. I’ve woken up in men’s beds plenty of times and I always remember how I got there, eventually. Last night though is a complete blank. Damn, I don’t even know if the kid was any good. Now that pisses me off.“What’s the last thing you remember? Think Lindsay.”“Drinks with Joe at that new wine bar downtown, the one we went to last week-end.”“OK then what?”“I don’t know. He was kind of awkward, just kept staring at me while I talked. He barely said two words. Just asked me questions and stared at me like I was the best thing he’d ever seen, and damn it, I probably was.”“Where did you go after drinks? Did you eat anything?”“I don’t remember food, I remember wine, plenty of wine. The waiter kept ll-ing my glass. I think we left to go dancing, ‘cause I remember dancing. I don’t know where. That’s it. I don’t remember anything else. I sure as hell don’t remember hook-ing up with that kid.”“Write it down. Get some water into you, better yet, sports drinks, and write down what you remember. I’ll be by your place in an hour. Get cleaned up”That’s Charlie. She’s a lawyer. She’s always telling me to write it down. God like writ-ing it down is the most important thing in the world. I’m not a fucking writer.“I’m ne.”“Good, ‘cause you promised to come with me for dinner at my sister’s today.”Oh shit. I stumble into my condo, paid for by my lovely jackass of a second hus-band, and drop into bed. Finally, someone turned the fucking sun off.

Shame Leads to Victimization Shame often plays a central role in the development of a "victim mentality" Feelings of shame or of being shamed create victimization beliefs by:Internalization of BlameShame often leads people to internalize blame, even in situations where they may not be at fault. When someone feels ashamed, they may come to believe that they are fundamentally flawed or unworthy, causing them to view themselves as victims of circumstances, people, or events. This self-blame can keep them stuck in a loop of feeling powerless and helpless, unable to see their agency or opportunities for change.Feelings of PowerlessnessWhen someone experiences shame, they often feel that something is wrong with them on a deep, intrinsic level. This feeling of inadequacy can make them feel disempowered, as if they're at the mercy of external forces beyond their control. The belief that they are fundamentally defective or unworthy can lead to feelings of helplessness, which is a core component of the victim mentality.

I look like a pig, not a cute little piglet. !I mean, a fat sow right before the slaughter, I'm wearing a shift dress that is too tight. I'm popping out of the top of and I'd rip the seams if I sat down. !I hate shopping because clothes never fit me right. If a dress or shirt fits my bust line, it's too big everywhere else. If I buy something that fits the rest of me, it pulls tight across the bust. In this case, I swear the sizing on the label is wrong. !That's not even the worst part of shopping for clothes. I'm a plus size. !There I said it. I'm a size 18, four sizes larger than what retail considers desirable. Retail stores Hate Plus Size Women. !Don't believe me? !Walk into any store that sells both regular and plus sizes. Where do they put the plus sizes? That's right in the far back corner, usually reserved for the clearance items no one wants except at cut rate prices. And if that's not enough to convince you that plus size girls are despised by the fashion industry. Take a look at the clothes. !I can walk into any store and find a cute dress displayed at the front on a perfect perky plastic mannequin. I know it will suit my hourglass figure. However, the largest size it comes in is 14. So I head over to the corner of shame in the back to see if I can find it in my size. And I can't. Most of what's there is designed for someone in their 70s or a farmhouse wife from the 50s. Nothing fashionable comes in my size. !Sure, it's gotten better over the years, and now there are clothes that are actually designed for younger, large, curvy women. They aren't cute, though, and the selection at any given time is a quarter of what there is at

the front of the store. In fact, most fashion stores don't even carry a plus size section, which cuts the plus size woman's options down even further. !So here I am standing and changing room, looking at myself in the mirror, wondering why the fashion industry hates me so much. It's like if a woman has breasts and hips, she's not sexually desirable, she's ugly. !Who decides the stuff? Anyway?! I start laughing. !The answer is so simple, I can't believe it. I didn't think of it before. Whether or not I'm worthy of beautiful clothes that suit my body is determined by a very outspoken, judgmental image crazed group of gay men and super thin skeletal women, and whom do they find attractive, young boys. !Okay, this theory might be completely shit. Still, it makes me feel better as I stand in front of a three way mirror wearing an ill fitted dress designed for mannequins and not a real woman. !“What's so funny?” !I turn and see a gorgeous woman who's probably 10 years younger than me. She's leggy with the right amount of curves and the perfect size boobs for the outfit she's wearing. My theory about gay men designing women's clothes for young boys flies out of my head, and I feel like that fat, ugly sow again. !“You know that dress is all wrong for you.” Thanks captain obvious.!“Yeah, I kind of got that.” I look down at myself and want to gag. !“You need something that comes in tighter here, the waist is looser along the bus, and then you'd be hot stuff.” !“Oh, I like her. Hi, I'm Charlie.” !

“I'm Lindsay. You know, there has to be something. Come on. Let'stake a look. Shall we?” !“Lead the way?” !She grabs a handful of dresses for me to try on and model for her.Each dress is more ill filling fitting than the last, and I'm getting beyondfrustrated, standing beside this woman. I am ugly, fat and worthless. !I look in the mirror and wonder what man would ever look at me, letalone want to go, want to get to know me only the desperate, depravedand discarded. Seems so unfair. I am a smart, successful, amazingwoman, and I repulse every decent quality man I walk by. !“Who designs this crap?” She asks. !“Gay men who hate curvy women.” I say and we both break outlaughing. Her laughter fills the store. I like her.!

I'm nervous. !I'm fucking shaking. !The butterflies flying around my guts are more like popcorn kernels and a hot air popper striking my insides at full speed. I pace around the room, glancing at the door, waiting. The Waiting is killing me. !Doubt floats my mind. !Will she be angry with me? !Will she even remember me? !Will she talk to me or just sit in that corner and cry? !I glanced down at my dress and smooth it out. It's matronly. Probably the only matronly thing I own. My lawyer insisted I dress modestly. I hope this is modest enough. I start pacing again, from the window to the door to the window, waiting. I glance at the clock on the wall. She's late. Fear grips me by the throat, and I can't breathe. She's not coming. The fucking asshole changed his mind, court order or not, the door opens. I close my eyes, too scared to see !“Hello, Mama.” I open my eyes, and there's my baby, my sweet, beautiful baby girl. And I don't move. I'm frozen to the spot. Fear is gripping harder. Will she turn and run? I hold my breath. !“Baby!” I can feel the smile on my face. It's huge. !She walks in, timid and unsure, looking behind her at the social worker, who nods, and with that express permission, my baby turns around to me and runs into my arms. !“Mommy!” !I fall to my knees, taking her my arms with tears streaming down my face. I don't care. I don't want to let her go. I hold her tighter to me, trying to make her part of me. I can feel her body shaking as she sobs along with

me. Three months is a long time not to see your daughter, three fucking months, and all I get is an hour with her. I can feel this anger of the injustice of it all. !Now isn't the time for anger. I inhale the scent of my daughter's hair, trying to commit it to my long term memory. Again, I feel her body so close to mine. I hold her, mold her to me. I wish I could put her back, back inside my womb to be with me all the time. I wish I treasured being pregnant instead of hating every second of it, I was so dumb. !“Mommy, too tight.” !“Oh, sorry, baby.” !“Mommy. I missed you so much.”!I don't let go. I can't look her in the face. Not yet, I am so ashamed. I tried to be a good mom with Evelyn. I spent time with her. I did things with her. I even read to her every night. We had tea parties and shopping trips, we had spa days, all the things I'd never done with Destiny. !“Mommy, I brought you a present.” !“You did? I brought you a present too.” !She hands me a gift box, and I unwrap it to find a beautiful silver necklace with an intricate pen of a mother and a child placed inside a heart. She puts it on my neck. !“I'll never take it off.” I promise her. !“And I'll never take off mine.” She pulls an identical necklace from her pocket, and I put it on her. “Now we will always be together, mommy, no matter where I go.” I smile. She looks sad. “I'm sorry, Mommy.” !“What for baby?” !“I'm sorry that I go away on trips with father and leave you behind. I don't want to, but Father says you can't come. You can't leave here. So

you have to stay. I want to stay too. I do. I don't want to go away all the time.” !“Oh, sweetie, you have nothing to feel sorry about. You get to see the world. You get to see so much things I never get to see. I want you to take lots of pictures and send them to me. I want to see what you are doing that way. I'll be there with you. I want you to have fun and see the world. Okay, that's why your daddy takes you with him on his trips.” !“You don't want me here with you?” !“Oh, baby.” The tears are falling again and my heart is breaking. “I want you here with me. So bad it hurts me here inside.” !“Then why can't I say with you?” !“Who would take care of daddy?” !“He has people.” !“He needs his little girl. He needs his little girl to help him be happy and young so he'll live a long time.” !“Don't you need me?” !“I am young and strong, stronger than your daddy. I love you so much. I love you to the moon.” !“I love you to the moon and back.” !“I love you to Mars.” !We laugh and laugh, trying to outdo each other with who loves who more? Then I give her my gift. It's a book made up of photos of us together, from the day she was born until the last time I saw her. I've written little messages in the pages about how wonderful she is, stories and my memories of her, how much I love her. We open the book to share those memories together. Her on my lap. Me holding her as she turns each page of our lives together. !

“Time's up.” I haven't even noticed the social work come in. I was so engrossed in my time with Evelyn.!“An hour already? She just got here a minute ago.” !“It's been an hour. Come on. Evelyn.” The social worker, says. !“I don't want to go.” She grips my neck and I grip and I grip her in a hug. “I want to stay with mommy.” !“Evelyn.” A male voice. We both look up at the man standing in the doorway like he owns the whole place and everyone in it, expecting to be obeyed without question. “Time to go. Your mother has seen you.” Evelyn doesn't move. I can feel her body stiffing. Tears starting to falling down. Her face, big ones. Her bottom lip is huge and troubling. “Evelyn, please, sweetheart, I have to be somewhere.” !“Another hour. Father, please, please. I just want to see mother for a little while longer.” I've never seen my ex husband falter in negotiations with anyone, not his business rivals, not his associates, not his friends, not his children, not his grandchildren, not his great grandchildren. It's his way or no way. You take what he gives you, and you are to be grateful that he even noticed you. The man does not have a heart. !“Evelyn.” He says, but it doesn’t sound firm. !“Daddy, please.” !“Oh, all right, I'll go run a few errands, and when I come back, you'll be ready to go?” !“Yes, Daddy, I promise. Thank you, Daddy.” She jumps off my knee and runs to him, hugging him, and the man's eyes actually have tears in them. !I'm astonished.!

Heal from Shame Shame can feel overwhelming, but it is possible to heal and transform the way you relate to yourself and your experiences. •Acknowledge and Name the Shame•Understand That Shame Is a Common Experience•Challenge Negative Self-Talk•Practice Self-Compassion•Open Up to Trusted People•Reframe the Narrative•Forgive Yourself•Focus on What You Can Control•Cultivate a Growth Mindset•Consider Professional Support•Practice Mindfulness•Develop Healthy BoundariesOvercoming shame is a journey, not a quick fix. It requires patience, self-awareness, and practice. The key is to understand that shame doesn’t define who you are—it’s an emotional experience that can be healed with time, self-compassion, and support. Through these steps, you can transform shame into a powerful tool for personal growth and self-empowerment.

Estranged Mothers ! Being separated from our children is devastating, yet many mothers are estranged from their young and adult children. Sometimes, it is due to the state protecting the children from parents who are incapable of caring for themselves, let alone their kids. For some mothers, their exes have kidnapped their children and they have no idea where they are. Then there are the mother’s whose children have left the home and never went back. "! When mothers are abandoned by their children, no matter how much they’ve apologized for bad acts or perceived slights it is heart wrenching and yet, they are unable to grieve this loss because their child is alive and has signalled to the world that their parent was terrible. "! How can mothers move on when their children have turned their backs on them? Share your stories, ideas, thoughts, and beliefs.

Harper came home from school waving an invitation to his best friend Jack's 10th birthday party. !Every year this kid's mom goes all out. The lady is Martha Stewart on steroids. My kids are lucky if I remember to pick up the cake on my way to whatever venue I booked for the party. This woman, she transforms her home into Party Central and makes the whole thing an experience. !For the kids sixth birthday, she made these pop up pirate invitations. !She made them. !The kids were to dress up like pirates. That's right, a costume. It wasn't good enough to just show up with a gift. I had to figure out a costume for the event. Worse, I was expected to stay because it's a big person event too. Thankfully, costumes were optional for adults. !As soon as we get there, she hands Harper, an old, looking, aged piece of paper, is a letter written in calligraphy that says, !Blackbeard, the pirate has stolen Captain Jack's treasure, and he needs your help to find it. Along the way, you will need to collect a few items to help Captain Jack battle Blackbeard meet him on his ship. It's below the tavern where the world's best chili is made great. A treasure hunt, no correction, a scavenger hunt. Harper drags me down the stairs to the basement, where a ship has been constructed out of large cardboard boxes. The floor is covered in blue tarps secured down with large stones, and there's even a mermaid swimming in the water. To get into the ship, Harper must walk the plank by a balancing on a piece of wood and about a foot off the ground. !This is not a birthday party, it's a theatre production. !

“Wow. Can you believe this party?” Christine leans over almost whispers in my ear “I thought last year’s Thomas the Train party was over the top. Kathleen no did herself this time.”!“I know Harper's gonna want something like this. Is the whole class here?” !“Yep, along with a few more.” !I can feel a headache coming on, just from the thought of all the work that has gone into this day, I don't understand how she does it, or even why she does it. All this work for a party that lasts, what three hours she must be exhausted by the end of the day. !“I don't know about you, Justine, but I think this calls for a bowl of wine, coming?” I follow Christine to the kitchen, which has been converted into a pirates pub with a wench and bartender. We order two glasses of white wine. The bartender, Kathleen brother, places two half full glasses on the kitchens island’s eating bar. I take a few sips and smile conspiratorially at Christine. !“Let's go outside” The deck was decorated with as an extension of the pirates pub. “This must have cost a fortune. How much do you think she spends on these things?” !“A few $100 and a month’s worth of work.” Christine guesses. “Hey, I saw rose in the grocery store the other day. She seems to be doing well”. I nod. “Any chance of her and Gus on the outs?” !I force a laugh while shaking my head, every single woman and even a few married ones I know regularly asks me if there's any chance that Gus will be single. A few are even bold enough to ask how my marriage is holding up, in hopes that Gary will be a free agent. I’m sure a few have

considered offering up a sacrifice to the gods in hopes that Gary will become a grieving widow. !“A girl can always dream.” !“How's the hunt for the new man coming?” I ask. It's her turn to laugh, and her laugh, unlike mine, is genuine. !“It's not I swear, there are no decent single man out there, you won the lotto when you snagged Gary. I went on this one date, if you can even call it that, and the guy shows up at the pub. He's 20 years older than his photos and the age on his profile.” !“What? Why would he do that?” !“Because he can thinks that if a younger woman just meet him and see how charming he is, they will overlook the lie. He even asked me what I thought of him. I told him that he didn't look anything like his photos, and then I didn't appreciate the bait and switch, because it makes him look like a liar.” !“You didn’t.”!“Yep, I did. He asked for the bill, threw it at me and said he'd buy me dinner next time, and walked out. What an ass.” !“I can't believe he did that, what did he expect you to say?” !“Probably that he was great, even though he was 20 years older, and I thought he was, could we go back to his place for hookup? The idiot?” !“I thought only women lied about their age.” !“So did I. Apparently not. Men are just as delusional in vain.” !“Christine. Justine. Hello, I think there's a bad joke in there.” !“Gwentine, have a seat.” Christine says, and I hold up my glass of wine to Gwen in a cheers motion. “Maybe we can start a trend or a band” !

“So what do you two think of all this?” Gwen asks. We go over our opinions the lavish event as others join us, and the consensus is that it sets the bar high, but the kids love it, and Kathleen enjoys doing it, so it's all good. Yeah, until our kids next birthday party, when they demand a big production too. !Kathleen's husband has led the little pirates on their scavenger hunt around the neighbourhood to find clue after clue hidden in the parks, neighbours, yards, and even the local convenience store for a slushie in a special take home pirate cup. !“Hey, ladies, can you give me a hand?” Kathleen asks. !“Sure!” We all stay together. While the kids are out scavenging, we take all the gifts and hide them in the backyard play structure. We then use fabric to transform the structure into a pirate ship and hoist the flag. When the kids get back, they have a second treasure hunt to find out what Blackbeard did with the presents. !The kids have to go through an obstacle course in the backyard, play a game of throw the cannon bottle water balloons, buy swords with the items they found in the scavenger hunt, and then have a sword fight with the adults to defeat Blackbeard to get the presents back. By the end, I'm exhausted with all the noise talking and kids hyped up on candy, treasure, flavoured gelatine and ice cream cake. !Harper had so much fun. It was all he talked about for months. He begged me for something just as cool as Jack's birthday party. He got laser tag.! This year, Jack's party is video games, no costumes. Thank God. I guess the boys are getting too big for them. There are going to be multiple

video game tournaments with lots of prizes. Harper tells me they’ve rented two or three big TV screens, so multiple games can be going on. !It's enough to make my head hurt about thinking about it how much noise can four video game systems make. Maybe I should buy some earplugs.!

! When I was little, a birthday party was in our backyard with a handful of kids playing party games, eating finger jello, and a bunny cake with boiled icing mom made from the Betty Crocker cookbook."! Thirty years later, I was one of those parents who went overboard in birthday party planning. The pirate party in Justine’s story is based one I put on for my son when he turned 4. By the end of the day, I was exhausted yet, the next week, I did it all again with a full out Dora the Explorer Adventure for my daughter. "! I’m just glad that the influencer craze was still 10 years out because these influencer moms have upped the bar beyond what I did. I’m not sure I could have kept up. "! The ironic thing, twenty years on, my kids don’t appreciate the amount of time I put into their childhood birthday parties, in fact they don’t remember the parties or the kids that were at them. All that effort I put in to be a better mom, to give my kids an amazing birthday experience, did not make the lifelong impression that I’d hoped.

! When it comes to planning the best party, things can go wrong. If things don’t go the way you think they should go, be the hero and find a solution to ensure the event moves forward regardless of what happened. Thing is, no one knows it didn’t go the way you thought it should go, all they know is what they see and they won’t care if things aren’t perfect."! Heroes don’t let things knock them off their game, they see the unexpected as challenges to overcome not personal attacks against them. When something goes wrong - step up and solve the problem.

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Craig went away for business trip. !It's heaven when he goes away, so peaceful. It's like we live in adifferent house, a calm house filled with laughter and fun. !When he's home, the kids and I are always trying not to upset him,trying hard to do whatever, everything we are supposed to do, keep thehouse clean, put the toys away, make some dinner, make sure dinner isprepared and ready for him. We watch the clock and hold her breath,waiting to see what mood he'll be in. !Sometimes he's in a good mood and the evening is filled withlaughter. Craig could be quite funny when he's in good mood, he doesthese voices with all these different accents, and the kids giggle and laugh.They all have the same sense of humor. I watch. Sometimes I laugh, andwhenever I do, Craig makes a big deal out of it and makes a note on thecalendar made Sophie laugh. There aren't many days on that calendar thatsay that. !I'm always too focused on waiting watching to see if his mood willchange. I’m on guard and tense. That and I just don't find it funny. Onthese rare occasions of family bliss, I clean up dinner while the kids andhim find something to watch on TV. It's always Inappropriate Comedy. Justbecause something is drawn in cartoon form does not make it a kid'sshow. !I let him know what I think about his TV choice, which usually resultsin a full-blown grown-man temper tantrum. These fights used to becommon until my son witnessed one. I think he was three, he just stoodthere with tears on his little chubby face, and I felt like a terrible mother. Ithought for sure I’d damaged him. After that, I stopped fighting back every

time Craig attacked. Now, I only file fight back if I feel backed into a corner and have to protect my children from his outbursts. !I don't mind when he targets his temper at me, but when he goes after my kids, I fight back hard. We had one of those fights the night before he left for his business trip. !Wyatt was just being a boy and wanted to build a fort or something. He'd gone into the garage, borrowed a hammer, some nails and boards. I was busy in the house. I wasn't paying attention to what Wyatt was doing. Then I heard the yelling coming from the backyard and raced outside.!“What the fuck Wyatt? You didn't ask.” Craig was mad and in full out tantrum mode. “You idiot. Look at what you did to the side of the house. Now, I have to fix this siding, you stupid…” !That's when I walked around the corner where Wyatt had nailed some boards to the house. I guess he thought it would be a good place to build this fort. !“And where the fuck were you Soph? You're supposed to be watching him.” !“I can't watch him every second. He's eight years old.” !“What were you busy doing? Sitting on your fat ass, eating and watching soap operas. Exposing the kids to smut?” !“I don't watch TV. You're the one who lets them watch smut with those cartoons.” We go back and forth like this. Then I remember Wyatt is there, because he moves. “Wyatt get back in the house and clean your room.” I scream at him. His eyes go wide, and he bolts for the house. !“He needs to clean this up. First.” Craig yells.! “I'll clean this up.” I move towards the board that is somewhat connected to the house. !

“No, you'll just make a bigger mess of it, and then I'll have more to fix. I'll do it. It has to be fixed before I go, Fuck so I didn't need this bullshit. Why the fuck can you just do what you're supposed to do? I have to do everything. I work hard for my money, and you spend it like it's water.”!“I don't spend all your money. I buy groceries and some stuff for the kids. That's it, nothing we don't need.” !He buys whatever he wants, whenever he wants. The house and garage are filled with his tools, toys and collectibles. !“It's my money. You don't contribute anything. You're worthless. So a drain on my bank account.” Craig continues.!I’ve heard this numerous times. I turn to leave him and get back to dinner. He grabs my arm, pulling me back to face him. !“Don't walk away from me. I'm not finished talking to you.” !I stand there empty, not feeling numb, not thinking, not feeling nothing, just a shell, an empty shell, because I'm not really here. It's like there is an invisible wall between us, muffling his voice. I listen as he goes on and on about how I can't clean the house good enough. I don't take care of the kids, right? How it caused him more work. I do nothing to make his life easier. I wait until his temper has subsided, and he's sane enough to let me go back in the house where dinner is probably burning. !“Mommy.” Wyatt comes into the kitchen. He's been crying. It's my fault. He's crying. I yelled him in a state of stress, the poor boy. I lead him to the greeting chair, and he sits on my lap. We cuddle, and I kiss the top of his head. Poor, Poor boy. You deserve better. “Mommy. Can you divorce daddy? Please?” !My heart breaks. If only I could. I have no way of leaving. I have no way of taking care of the kids. I don't have a job. I can't get a job. What

would I do with the kids? We have a good life for the most part. We live in a nice house, we have food, we have what we need out there. Fear grips me and holds on tight. I can't leave. I have no way of surviving. If I left, I'd be alone, broke, poor, alone. !“Oh, honey, I wish I could afford to. We'd be poor. We'd have nothing.” I'm too scared to leave, too scared of poverty, too scared of being alone in this world. That's why I married Craig in the first place. Fear of poverty, fear of being alone, fear of never having love, fear that he was all I deserved.!

Blaming - Shifting Behaviour When you read about Sophie’s Fight, it is easy to see Sophie is a victim but can you see how Craig’s victim mentality is affecting his family and making victims of everyone? Blame-shifting is a behaviour where an individual consistently deflects responsibility for their actions, mistakes, or negative outcomes by pointing the finger at others or external factors. This pattern can be subtle or overt, but the core idea is the same: avoiding personal accountability by shifting the blame elsewhere. Make a list of the different ways people: •blame external situations for their failings. • enable failure by accepting internal flaws.There are things that will get in your way on your journey to success and at times, they are real obstructions that you will need to overcome. You can give voice to the obstruction without giving it power over you. Obstructions cause both heroes and victims fail, what makes someone a hero or a victim has everything to do with the power they give the obstruction and what they choose to do about it. Take a look at the following statements and rewrite them by identifying the obstruction, how it got in the way, and what can be done to ensure it isn’t an obstruction in the future. Keep in mind how much power the obstruction has over your ability to take action to move forward.

1. Blaming Others for Their Own MistakesExample: If someone misses a deadline at work, they might say, "I couldn’t finish the project on time because my coworker didn’t send me the information I needed." Even though they may have had plenty of time to request the information earlier or find another solution, they focus entirely on someone else's actions.2. Blaming Circumstances or External FactorsExample: A person who frequently arrives late to meetings might explain it by saying, "Traffic was awful today" or "The weather made it impossible to get here on time," even if they left the house too late or didn't plan accordingly.3. Deflecting Responsibility in ConflictExample: In an argument, someone might say, "If you hadn’t raised your voice first, I wouldn’t have yelled back!" This shifts the focus away from their own behavior and places it on the actions of the other person.4. Making Excuses Instead of Taking ResponsibilityExample: If someone fails to complete a task, they might say, "I was just too tired to get it done," or "I didn’t know how to do it," instead of owning up to poor time management or lack of preparation.

5. Projecting Their Own Faults onto OthersExample: A person who is often angry and confrontational may accuse others of being "too sensitive" or "always overreacting" when they are upset, avoiding self-reflection on their own behaviour.6. Turning the Blame onto the VictimExample: If someone gets into an accident, they might say, "It was because the other driver wasn’t paying attention," even if their own actions, such as speeding or distracted driving, contributed to the incident.7. Claiming "It’s Just How I Am"Example: A person with a history of making impulsive decisions might say, "I can’t help it, I’m just impulsive," rather than acknowledging the need to work on self-control or decision-making skills.8. Playing the "Poor Me" CardExample: A person might say, "Everything always goes wrong for me," or "I never catch a break," instead of recognizing areas in their life where they could take action or make better choices.

I'm fucking broke shit. !If my rent check bounces again, my roommate will kick my ass out into the curb, or worse. Minimum wage is a fucking joke. Rent, bus tickets, food, the money is gone before the month ends, and I'm left holding a big bag of nothing. !I need to get drunk. !“Joy. Fill Up My glass.” I hold my glass out to my BFF. That's how the cool kids say it. Thanks to this new thing called texting and reality TV. Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie, those two infamous BFFs make a shitload of money showing the world how spoiled they are and they look fabulous while doing it. Who knew putting two socialite princesses onto a farm in the middle of nowhere would be instant comedy, because they can't even boil a pot of water. !There's no way those 2 BFFs could survive on my income. Hell, I can't survive on my income. Imagine Paris Hilton living on minimum wage. Now that would be a funny reality TV show. She couldn't do it. !Joy tips the bottle of cheap vodka and a clear river mixes with the glass’ remnants. I top it up with a splash of cranberry juice, just for colour. !“Don't get sloshed. It's still early.” Joy says. !“I can't afford the price of drinks at the bar.” I say. !“Like you'll have to pay for a drink.” Our friend Stacy scoffs. !True. I never buy drinks. I flirt and men ply me with liquor until I choose which one I'll go home with. He'll feed me breakfast and make a dinner date for later in the week. That's how I get most of my meals, food bought by men trying to get into my pants. And there is no shortage of men try to get me naked. Thank God. !

“Where did you get this dress?” Stacey is going through the contents of my closet, half of which are hand me downs from her. She is wearing another new designer dress her rich daddy bought her. Oh well, it will end up in my closet next week. I'm too old for hand me downs, especially from some rich chick five years younger than me. !“Some boutique shop downtown. I think I found it in the back of my closet the other day.” I lied. I bought it last week from some charity thrift store down the street. !“Hey, Lindsay.” my roommate, Corey, stands in my bedroom doorway with a creepy smile on his fat, round acne scarf face with dark little pig eyes. Those freaky small eyes are always looking at my tits, the perv. “Where's the rent?” !He doesn't care about the rent. He's just trying to gawk at my friends. He makes me sick. He's practically drooling. Stacy fingers him. !“You'll get it tomorrow. Get lost.” I say. Last month, when the rent check bounced, he told me I could get on my knees a couple times a week instead of giving him cash, like I put his disgusting thingy in my mouth, I'm not that broke. Well, I am, but still, a girl has to have standards !Joy stands up and slams the door in his face. !“Why do you live with him? He's a creep.” Stacy’s voice drips with disgust. !“The rent cheap. We can't all have a rich daddy like you to pay the bills.” !“Yeah, you can.” She says. !I want to punch her. My so called sperm donor, otherwise known as my father, ran off with some blonde with big tits a few years after I was

born. He told my mom that he wasn't cut out for the fatherhood after all, and disappeared. !My mom found out the hard way that you have to know where the bum is to get the courts to force them to pay child support, and when you have no money, you can't afford a lawyer or private eye. She tried to go to court without a shark and the judge sent her packing until she got herself some counsel. Then a social worker showed up at our trailer door, threatening to take me into foster care. Mom stayed away from the courts after that.!“Unlike you, I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth.” I say, trying not to sound envious.!“I don't mean a real daddy. You need a sugar daddy.” Stacy says. !“I'm broke, but not broke enough to be a prostitute.” !“It's not prostitution. It's a relationship.” She says !“Stacy, it’s is six for money.” Joy says. !“No, it’s an arrangement. The Sugar Daddy needs a fun time without any problems or drama, and the sugar baby needs to be taken care of, that's all.”!“So you're suggesting I become a private prostitute?” I ask. !“It's more than just sex. You'll for dinner, travel and talk. You just don't talk about your problems. He has a wife to nag and drive him nuts. You're his fun time girl.” !“His mistress.” Joy says. !“I guess you could call it that. He'll buy you all sorts of expensive stuff and set you up in a nice apartment.” !

Life would be so much easier if I had money or a man with money topay my bills. I imagine a life with no bills, no money problems, and lots ofspending cash. That would be the life. !“I don't know where to find one.” I say. !“It's easy. Put an ad on this new website called Craigslist, innewspaper personals, or you can hang out at the high-end expensive barsdowntown.” !“What about love?” Joy asks. !What the fuck does love matter? What's Love Got to do with it?What's love but a second hand emotion… Get that Tina Turner song out ofmy head. Gotta say one thing for that huge hair, long legged, chick, sheunderstood the dark side of love.!My mom was in love with my dad, and look at where that got her. Shewas in love with all of her boyfriends, and the only thing she got in returnwas a black eye and the odd broken bone. !Love, Fuck love, love won't pay the rent. !“You can always find love later, until then you enjoy the wealth.” Stacysays. !“No guy would love you once they found out you had sex for money.”Joy argues. !“Why tell him? What he doesn't know what won't hurt him. There'syour sugar daddy, and then there's the man you love.” Stacey says. !“What would people say? It's a bad idea.” Joy shoots back. !What people think? No one would have to know some old guy waspaying my bills. The only way anyone would know is if I told them. Andwhy would I do that? !My only question is, can I have sex with some old dude? !

Daddy Issues? ! Often when we see a younger woman with a much older man our first reaction is, “She must have daddy issues.” For little girls, their relationship with their dads is a big part of their future relationship with the opposite sex and it doesn’t always result in a huge age gap. "! Many women end up marrying men who are like their fathers, even if they did their best to find someone who wasn’t anything like the man who raised them. We are attracted to what we know and what feels comfortable, even if it was abuse, neglect, and broken promises. "! Breaking intergenerational cycles takes self awareness, understanding of our relationships with our family members, and knowing the limitations of each of our parents, especially our fathers. Take some time to reflect on your relationship with your dad and how it affected your development as a woman, wife, partner, mother, sister, and daughter.

Why Does Blame-Shifting Happen? Blame-shifting can be driven by:!•Avoidance of shame or guilt!•Insecurity or low self-esteem!•Lack of self-awareness!The Impact of Blame-Shifting # Blame-shifting can have a range of negative consequences, both for the individual who engages in the behaviour and for the people around them. It can affect relationships, personal growth, and emotional well-being. !Here’s a breakdown of the key consequences of blame-shifting: •Damaged Relationships!•Stagnation in Personal Growth!•Increased Stress and Anxiety!•Damage to Reputation and Credibility!•Chronic Relationship Patterns!•Lack of Accountability and Responsibility!•Impaired Problem-Solving and Decision-Making!•Reinforcement of Toxic Behaviour in Others!•Long-Term Emotional Consequences!

Drums.!We have the piano the girls learn to play on. We have the violin that Alexis played for a year. We have the electric guitar that Isabella played for four months, if I'm lucky. We even have the flute that Jessica played in school banned for a couple of years. That is four instruments that are collecting dust in our house. And will the boy play any of these? No, of course not.! Aiden wants to play the drums. !I still don't know where we'll put them. I don't want them in the living room where their noise will bother me. The family room is in the basement, but if we put them down there, the boy will never play them, and they'll probably get broken. I'm not sure how or if they will even fit in his room. We'll buy the drums, he'll play them for a period of time, and then I'll be tripping over them or stuffing them into the storage room when with everything else the kids have outgrown and forgotten about.!Alexis begged me for months to get her violin lessons because she was bored of the piano. I finally relented, and it was a painful audio experience for the rest of the family. Until, she finally managed to master the angle of the bow against the strings. At least she completed a year of lessons. !Isabella couldn't get a cheap electric guitar and amp. No, she needed an expensive one because her and her friends were forming a rock band that lasted for four months before there were creative differences and the band fell apart. I was hoping Jessica or Aiden would want to play it, but neither seemed all that fussed about the guitar. !In grades seven and eight, Jessica played the flute in the school band until she found art and computers and the flute was put aside. I can

understand why Aidan wouldn't want to play the flute and maybe the violin, but come on, isn't the electric guitar cool? ! “Mom, come look at this set.” !“What about these electric ones? Aiden, you can play them with earphones.” I pull away from him to take a look and gag on the price tag. $2,999.99 that's a lot more than I wanted to spend. I guess this isn't an option, though it would be quieter for the rest of the family. !“I don't want electric one. I want this one over here.” !I glance at the price tag. “$1,000 I was thinking more like a couple 100.” !“Mom, this is the best one. It comes with everything I need to rock, Please, mom.” !I know I should say no. The salesman shows Aiden a few things, and his face lights up. He tries to hit the drums the same way. !“What do you think, mom?” The salesman asks me.!“Do you have any cheaper options?” !“Well, we do have the starter kit. It's $200” !“What about this one? Aiden?” !“It doesn't have all the drums and stuff, and it's small.” !I ask the salesman if he needs all the pieces the other set has and he assures me that he doesn’t and the beginner set will be enough.!“You hear that? Aiden, this set for beginners. That's you.” !“Mom. I'll catch on really fast. This one has the snare drum and the floor Tom. That one's for little kids. Jerry would laugh at me if I played that one.” !

Laughed at. I'd hate for that to happen. I want them to have the best options available. I look at the cheaper set a bit closer. It is a lot smaller. It looks cheaply manufactured. !“Aiden. Can you just sit here so I can see?” !“Do I have to?” !“Yes, you have to.” !He sits at the drum set and he looks too big for it. He hasn't even hit his growth spurts yet. I take a deep breath. I want him to have lessons and a decent instrument to play. I always wanted to know how to play an instrument growing up but my parents couldn't afford it. We can't really afford it either with all the other activities. Still, it is important that they get to do everything that they want. It's up to us to make sure that they get the best start in life, all the chances we never got, and that includes drum lessons with a decent tom kick. !“Yeah, that one won't work.” I say. My phone rings and I excuse myself. !“Hello, Hey, hon, how are things?” It's Gus. !“Well, I'm at the music store with Aiden.” !“Yeah. Did you find a drum set?” !“Well, found a few. Thing is, we can't agree. He wants $1,000 set.” !“Huh? Good luck with that. So what are you doing after?” !“He's got football and then home.” !“Any chance you can do me a solid?” !Right? Then Aiden starts banging the expensive drum kit. !“What? I can't hear you, just a minute” I move away from the drums. “Okay, what did you say?” !

“I need a favour. I have a client. He says he has a check to pay. What's outstanding? I'm busy here on a job site, and this guy's been a pain about making his last payment. Can you run out and get it?” He gives me the address, and it's the next town over. It'll take me 45 minutes just to get there. Too far to go while Aiden is at football practice. “Hon, the guy might bail again if I don't get the check cash right away.” !“Okay, I'll go. How much is it?” !“Five grand. Deposit into the bank account right away.” !There goes my afternoon, and I still have to get the drum kit. I look around some more, trying to find other options. !“Hey, what about this one? Aiden, it's nice and it's only 500.” !“I want the other one.” !“Look Aiden, it's this one or the beginner one. That's it. Unless you have $500.”!“I do.” !“No, you don’t.” !“In the bank account Grandma has for me.” !“Nice try. That's for university. Which drum set Do you want?” !He sits down at the 500 set. It's the right size for him. !“It doesn't have the high hat symbols.” !“Do you sell those separately?” I ask the salesman.!“Yes, we do. They're over here.” He jesters for me to move to another corner of the store. !“I don't need to see them. Aiden, if you get this one, when your instructor says you need the high hat, I'll come back and get it. Deal?” !“I don't know. The other one is so cool.” !“Why?” !

“It's black.” !“Does this come in black?” I ask the sales guy !“Yes, I have a set in black.” !“There Aiden, it comes in black. We have to go. Do you want this or the beginner kit?” !“I'll take this one.” !What a way to take the fun out of spending $500 plus taxes. He's supposed to be excited, not disappointed. The salesman rings it up, and Aiden helps load it into the van. Next up football thing to get the cheque from Gus’ client, I should make it home by seven, at the latest. !What am I going to do about dinner?!

I can't wait for this kid to come out of me. !I'm due in two weeks, and I can't stand another minute of being pregnant. !“Do you need anything?” Gus asks for the 100th time, he is so sweet. He's got he's gonna make such a great father. He really is. I love him so much. !“No, I'm good. I just want to lie down and maybe have a bit of a nap.” !“Okay, I'll be working on the nursery.” I smile. I feel so warm and happy. !He's been working so hard to get that room ready for our first baby. He painted the walls, put down the carpet, and built some shelves for the toys and books. He wants everything to be perfect. Perfect is expensive. !The other day, we went out to buy the stroller in a car seat $300 almost had the kid right there in the store from the shock of it. That's a lot of money. Gus doesn't make a lot as an apprentice carpenter and I quit my job a month ago. I won't be going back to work. !We decided we wanted to raise our children, not pay some stranger. My girlfriend Cindy told me how much she pays for daycare. It's highway robbery, $800 a month. I only bring home a little less than $1500 a month when I worked at the store. !Besides, children need their mother at home with them. Society and companies really should understand how important is for mothers to stay home with their children. When I gave my notice, my boss gave me a talking to because she wanted me to understand how leaving the workforce would affect my future job prospects. How putting kids ahead of work would make it harder for me to enter back into a serious career path.

I told her I wasn't interested in a career path. She stared at me as if I had three heads. !I get it. I'm supposed to want it all career, marriage, kids. But I don't want the career. I just want the marriage and the kids. Though, kids are expensive. !I read in a parenting magazine that a child will cost over $100,000 over their lifetime, and that's not including the expensive activities or post secondary. I do worry about the cost of how we'll manage on one income. The cost of diapers alone will put us in the poor house. My nerves start to tighten as I think about the cost of this baby kicks me a couple times, reminding me that it's in there inside me and worth every penny we will spend on it. !I curl up in bed, wrap my arms around my belly and smile. Hurry up little one.!

There is alarm clock going off, and I can't find it. I keep turning off alarm clocks, but it's not the one that's going off. I keep looking for it. It's annoying me. Not that one. Where is it? It needs to shut up, or else it will wake up the baby. If Emma wakes up, I'll kill someone. I'll kill the alarm clock. !“Hey, babe, time to wake up.” Gary is shaking me and the alarm clock beside my head is still going off. I slam my head down the snooze button and groan, It's morning already? “You can have the shower first.” Gary says, like it's some prize to get out of bed first. !I'm so tired. Emma woke me up twice last night to feed. Am I ever going to get a full night sleep again? I roll out of bed, stumbled to the shower, cold water. I know sounds insane, but it wakes me up faster than Emma's cries. In, wash, out, dry, dress, hair, makeup, and done. Well, I'm done. Now I have to wake up Emma, get her dressed in bed.!After cleaning up her diaper, I wrestle her into a cute outfit before settling her into her highchair. She can be so playful first thing in the morning. !I swear she gets more of this glue-like pablum on her than in her. I can't get mad. She's too cute with white goo stuck on the end of her button nose, her tiny feet kicking, and her hands drumming on the chairs large tray excitement, laughing. I smile. She fills me with so much happiness. Yes, I don't get enough sleep, but this is so worth it. !“Here's a coffee.” Gary sets a hot mug of coffee down on the high chair tray, and Emma's little hand makes for it lightning fast. I dropped the pablum and grab the mug before she burns herself. !“That was stupid. She almost knocked it over and burned herself. What were you thinking? Now? Look at me. I’ve got white goo all over my

suit. Great. You feed her. I need to go get changed.” I swear he does it on purpose. No man can be that dense. !I run upstairs, change into a clean suit, and come and run back down to the kitchen to find Emma covered in pablum because Gary gave her the spoon to feed herself. Well the daycare will have to clean her up. I'm running late, and I can't be late for work again. !“Aren't you going to clean her up first?” Gary asks.!“I don't have time. I've got to get to work. Look at the clock. You're gonna be late too.” I wiggle my precious little bundle into her snow suit, put her into her car seat, and grab the diaper bag. She's laughing. I smile, filled with warmth and happiness. This is what love feels like. She's so precious. I buckle her into the back and drive her to the daycare, listening to her talking to herself behind me. !Since I went back to work and she started daycare, she has been developing in leaps and bounds. Her eyes light up when we arrive as she watches the heard of kids bringing her toys to play with. She's like their little doll. !“Bye, sweetie.” It's hard to leave. I want to stay and watch her play with these children that surround her. My heart is here. !“We will have lots of fun.” Ms Allen is placating me, like she does every morning. “I know it's always so hard to say goodbye.” She gives me a knowing smile. !I'm gonna miss Emma, and I'm so curious about what her day is like. I do miss so much, but it's the best. !“I'm gonna be late. See you in a bit, baby.” I give her head a quick kiss before rushing back into the car.!

We really lucked out with our daycare. It's worth every penny we give them. It's expensive. The best doesn't come cheap. And at the end of the month, I sometimes wonder if I'm working to pay for daycare instead of helping us to get ahead. By the time I had the cost of working daycare and the extras, I'm left with a few hundred dollars to go out on a family outing on the weekends. It's worth it. I know it is. !The daycare staff is professional, helpful and loving with all the children. They have, every toy she could ever want to play with, along with educational programs and exercises. They will do so much with the kids, so much more than I would do. Plus socialization is so important for the kids development. It really does take a village to raise a child. !The things these children learn from these wonderful women and each other are things Emma could never learn with me. I'm not built to sit and play patty cake all day and sing silly little songs. The kids inspire each other to learn more, expand themselves and be better. She's already learned so much. The end of the day, I'm excited to pick her up, and I enjoy my time with her in the evening, we make an effort to ensure our time together as quality time. !I know this is the best solution for our family. I've read all the studies on the topic, and the pros definitely outweigh the cons, not to mention my career and how an absence would destroy it. But it still is so hard to be away from her.!

House cleaned, check. The roast is in the oven, check. The potatoes on the stove, check. The cake is iced, the pudding’s chilled, check. Buns. Oh no, I forgot the buns. “Alexis… Alexis…” My voice gets louder as I scream up the stairs. “ALEXIS!”“Ya what do you want? I’m busy.” “Doing what?”“None of your business.”“It is my business. Forget it. I need you to go and pick up some dinner buns from the store. Everyone will be here soon.”“Why does everyone have to come every week?” “Seriously? You’ve asked that question every week since you were fourteen and the answer has always been the same. Now get me the buns.”“Yes Ma’am.” She salutes. I hate it when she does that. I don’t have time to discipline her, I’ll just store it for later. Now where was I? Buns, house, roast, potatoes, buns, cake, pudding, drinks. “Alexis… get ginger ale.” I yell at her back as she leaves the house. “Moooom.” Isabella comes bounding down the stairs. The girl truly does bound like a rabbit or some kind of stair-bounding kangaroo. Drives me nuts, girls are sup-posed to glide.. “Yes, Isabella?”“Isa, Mom it’s Isa.” “I named you. It’s Isabella and I’m not having this conversation again. What?”“Aiden is messing around in my room.”“Tell him to get out.” “He won’t listen.”No surprise there. That boy has selective hearing. “Tell him I have some cookies here for him.”

“Cookies? Can I have one?”“And ruin your dinner and your gure?” She glares at me. I know that was an unfair remark, still the girl would live on junk food if I let her. It’s so hard to get her to eat a healthy meal. One day she told us she was going to be a vegetarian. More like a carbotarian. The girl only ate bread and cheese, mainly in the form of cheese pizza. That didn’t last long before I sat her down with a good healthy meal of meat, potatoes, and vegetables. Wouldn’t let her get up ‘til she ate it all. A growing girl needs a healthy meal and that includes meat.. “Isa said you had cookies?” “It’s Isabella, Aiden, and yes, if you go help your father with the lawn.” “Do I have to?”“Yes you have to. Next time, don’t bug your sister. Now out you go. Your father shouldn’t have to do it all on his own anymore, you’re thirteen, plenty old enough to help out. Hurry, everyone will be here soon.”“Is Davie coming?”“Yes. I think so. He was at his father’s last week, right? So he’s here this week. Now off you go or you won’t be playing with Davie or getting any cookies.”With that he was out the door to help Gus with the yard work. Oh damn I should have given the boy a beer to take to his dad. Gus will be thirsty. Beer? Oh no. I forgot to check our supplies. I rush to the garage where there is another fridge usually lled with beer and wine.“Hey honey, how’s the dinner coming?” My husband is pulling cases of beer and bottles of wine out of the car. Thank God he remembered. “Let me help you.” He bends down, kisses me on the cheek and then hands me a couple bottles of wine. I look up at him. My man. Tall. Solid. My heart oods and I want to be in his arms. That will have to wait.

It’s Sunday and everyone will be here soon. So much to do. Always so much to do.I love Sundays. Family days. It is a lot of work having everyone over here every week to get caught up and re-connected and I love it. Since my sisters moved my parents into the city it’s the only way I get to see them. Family is so important and the kids really need to spend time with their grandpar-ents before they are gone. Not that it will be anytime soon, mind you. Got to check the oven... can’t stop even for a minute.

Why Does Blame-Shifting Happen?Blame-shifting can be driven by a few factors:Avoidance of shame or guilt: People may shift blame to avoid facing the uncomfortable feelings that come with acknowledging their mistakes.Insecurity or low self-esteem: When people feel threatened by their own perceived inadequacies, they may blame others as a defense mechanism to preserve their self-image.Lack of self-awareness: Sometimes, blame-shifting is a result of a person not realizing the role they played in a situation, either due to denial or an inability to reflect on their own behaviour.