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Analie Shepherd's
Success Story
As I sit on the plane, winging my way from San Francisco to Paris to accept an award for my newly published book, I am filled with so many emotions: excitement, apprehension, anticipation, and above all, pride. I am making this amazing trip by myself. My wonderful husband tried to get the time off work, but simply couldn’t. Several friends did their best to come with me, but with each something prevented their coming. So, I was going to Paris for a week, by myself. And I am loving it!
Not that many years ago, I felt like I did not exist. My identity was only a reflection of how my abusive therapist saw me. For many years, she showered me with love and attention, and I grew to like the me she told me I was. But eventually it all fell apart, she turned cold and cruel, and I began to hate the person she seemed hate … me. When I was finally able to leave, I had no idea who I was, I only knew I was full of self-loathing and couldn’t imagine an existence without the love and support of my therapist.
I have made a remarkable journey since those dark days of “after abuse”. Slowly, I have regained a sense of my own worth. The journey towards health has not been easy, and there are still moments when I fall back into the overwhelming grief and sorrow of those early days. But I am no longer the shadow of a person I was then. I have an identity grounded in the reality of my own unique humanity. I have come to understand I was neither the person whom my abusing therapist seemed to adore, nor the person she sought to so cruelly wound. I never was. She tore apart the structure of my being; I have slowly rebuilt my internal self.
I have written a book, Mending the Shattered Mirror, about the horrible consequences of the abuse I suffered in therapy, and about my struggle to regain my heart, my soul, and my sanity. That is the book that has won an award, and this is the reason for my trip to Paris. How remarkable that circumstances have brought me to this solitary journey. I am excited and full of anticipation of what this week will hold for me. I will trust myself, I will take gentle care of myself, and I will enjoy me!
PART TWO
My wonderful, wonderful week in Paris has come to an end, but I will carry the deep joy of it within me always. I found myself to be amazingly alive within each moment. Having traveled by myself, there was no one to talk to but me! So, I did! I had meaningful conversations with myself, and we usually agreed.
I remember, so well, the timid little girl I was, once upon a time. But even then, I had a little voice deep inside whispering that someday I would do great things. Often, in the sad growing-up days of my youth, that voice was silenced, but it was never really gone. I am not sure I always knew this about myself, but within this week in Paris, I encountered this reality many times. Sometimes it almost took my breath away. I was able look back, along the path of my life, and see clearly that I was born with a strong soul, and although wounded, it was never broken
I believed, a few years ago, that my abusive therapist had broken my soul. I did not believe I could survive leaving her. She had convinced me that my salvation lay within my need for her. She was wrong. As I walked the lovely streets of Paris—stopped at sidewalk cafes for a latte and croissant, browsed quaint little shops, sipped wine as I watched the boats on the Seine and listened to Notre Dame’s marvelous bells pealing through the falling twilight—I was alive!
The evening of the Paris Book Festival Gala, where I would receive the award for my book, I felt a tinge of apprehension as I prepared to walk the ten blocks to the restaurant. I tried to shake it off, but couldn’t. What am I afraid of, I wondered. As I walked, I quieted, and listened to my thoughts. I realized that I was about to share with a group of strangers, the very deep and intimate details of some the most painful years of my life. Could I do it, I wondered? I could not deny that I was scared. But then it occurred to me that in writing my book, and publishing it, I was claiming the truth of those years. The room full of strangers, that I was about to enter, was, in a way, a smaller version of the world. I lifted my chin, squared my shoulders, and resolved to be true to myself and to my book.
I joined a group of about twelve authors, award winners all, outside the restaurant for pre-dinner drinks. Despite my best efforts, I felt awkward and self-conscious. I took a deep breath and simply accepted that I felt that way. We made small talk, exchanging information—where we were from, what genre of book we had written, etc. We then went inside to a beautifully set table in an exquisite room. There was crystal, china, white linens, flowers, and candles everywhere! The walls of the intimate space were covered with lovely artwork and mirrors. In all those mirrors the candles twinkled, and the room shimmered with a magical glow.
It was lovely! We ate and sipped wine, soon talking as if we had been friends all our lives.
Throughout the wonderful five course dinner, my awkwardness disappeared and I gave myself fully to the moment, wanting to remember every nuance and feeling. After dinner, the hostess for the evening, Agnes, (pronounced with a musical French accent) prepared to introduce each author, their book, and present the awards. Suddenly my heart seemed to stop. Breathe, I thought! But no matter how I tried, I felt terrified to get up and speak about my book, which we were each expected to do.
Mine was the third book to be presented. I rose from my seat and started to walk to the front of the room. As I did so, I caught my reflection in one of the mirrors. I saw within my reflection, a friend--me! I was not there alone. That little voice whispered again, you will do great things. I smiled at myself, and walked to the front of the room, picked up my book and started to speak to the group.
I don’t really remember what I said, but I know it was from the heart. As I finished, I realized a few of the people in the room were crying. Agnes, the hostess, gave me a hug, and said, “Analie, you are an amazing woman. Thank you for sharing your beautiful story with us, and for being brave enough to write this book.” I went back to my seat, as the next author went forward to receive her award. She didn’t speak for a moment, and then said, “I don’t know how I can follow Analie, and her amazing story.” I smiled at her, but was deeply humbled by the reaction of everyone to my book.
As we talked, over coffee and a wonderful dessert, the new friend next to me said, “Analie, when you were speaking to us, you were absolutely glowing, honestly you seemed to radiate light. There was something about you, as you spoke, that was remarkable. Please don’t give up on getting your story out there into the world. Don’t be afraid. When you told us about your story, it came from the heart and it was beautiful. I can’t wait to read your book.”
All the books presented that evening were incredible and I was overjoyed to be a part of such a lovely event. Each author had an important story to tell—whether fiction, inspirational, young adult, or non-fiction—the books were amazing. I left feeling I had been part of a little piece of magic, hidden away in a small shimmering room in the heart of Paris. I was blessed.
Later that night, as I sat in my room, listening to the nightingales trilling in the dark through my windows, flung open wide, I thought back over the evening. “Yes,” I whispered to the little girl, smiling inside, “you will do great things! Take joy!”
