Translator: Ha Luu Reviewer: Hélène Vernet
Mariah Fenton Gladis (Unclear)
Ron Gladis: I give a new meaning to the term:
MFG (Unclear)
RG: “High-maintenance woman.”
(Laughter)
When I was two and a half,
my mother threw my father out of the house.
I never saw or heard from him again.
She told me that he didn’t want to remember that he had a daughter,
alone, overweight and holding secrets.
My emotional damage was undeniable.
That’s forward 18 years.
My mother received word that my father had died,
and someone needed to claim his body.
Without thinking I said, “I’m going.”
So I went to New York,
found the bar across the street from his apartment,
and someone who could identify him.
Later that day,
I asked his landlord
if I could see his apartment.
We climbed up three flights of creaky stairs
to his door.
I was scared,
feeling disoriented,
as I stepped into the home
of the man I’ve been missing
all of my life.
In his bedroom,
as I opened the first drawer,
I saw a wedding ring,
my highschool graduation picture,
and a white envelope
marked Mariah’s first haircut.
Inside was a lock of my red hair.
I was stunned.
I felt a seismic shift in my identity,
years of hearing my inner voice saying,
“You’re not good enough,
pretty enough,
thin enough.
No man will ever love you.”
I realized
that to my father
I was a treasured lost child.
I was changed forever.
Now as a psychotherapist for 40 years,
I know
that when we walk around feeling unlovable or unworthy,
it darkens our entire life.
This lack of internal self-support
and self-love
brings profound aloneness,
shame,
and hopelessness.
We need to create an inner life,
a home,
where we can always turn
for support and unconditional acceptance.
I call this: “Arriving already loved,
by you”.
So if you fall,
you’ll be the first one there
to pick yourself up.
In 1981,
I felt
big time.
I was diagnosed with ALS,
and given a ten percent chance
to live two years.
Later that day,
this man
(Laughter)
Ron,
my hero,
asked me to marry him.
(Applause)
A death sentence,
and a marriage proposal
(Laughter)
on the same day!
(Laughter)
Wow!
I knew that to give myself the best chance of survival,
I needed to be free of self-criticism,
blame and guilt.
I need a close compassionate connection
with every cell in my body,
every step of the way.
And I needed to talk to myself,
like I would to a treasured child:
“Mariah, I love you,
and I will be with you through this,
everyday,
until you draw your last breath.”
This healthy inner conversation
has huge transformational power
for each of us.
Thirty-six years ago,
if I had accepted
the identity of a dead woman walking,
I know I would not be here today.
I’ve made it my daily practice
to arrive here, there and everywhere,
already loved.
Let me leave you with this thought:
if you and I
were to lock arms
and walk and roll
through one day of your life,
and you whispered in my ear
every thought you had,
would I have a good day?
(Laughter)
Thank you.
(Applause)
Mariah Fenton Gladis (Unclear)
Ron Gladis: I give a new meaning to the term:
MFG (Unclear)
RG: “High-maintenance woman.”
(Laughter)
When I was two and a half,
my mother threw my father out of the house.
I never saw or heard from him again.
She told me that he didn’t want to remember that he had a daughter,
alone, overweight and holding secrets.
My emotional damage was undeniable.
That’s forward 18 years.
My mother received word that my father had died,
and someone needed to claim his body.
Without thinking I said, “I’m going.”
So I went to New York,
found the bar across the street from his apartment,
and someone who could identify him.
Later that day,
I asked his landlord
if I could see his apartment.
We climbed up three flights of creaky stairs
to his door.
I was scared,
feeling disoriented,
as I stepped into the home
of the man I’ve been missing
all of my life.
In his bedroom,
as I opened the first drawer,
I saw a wedding ring,
my highschool graduation picture,
and a white envelope
marked Mariah’s first haircut.
Inside was a lock of my red hair.
I was stunned.
I felt a seismic shift in my identity,
years of hearing my inner voice saying,
“You’re not good enough,
pretty enough,
thin enough.
No man will ever love you.”
I realized
that to my father
I was a treasured lost child.
I was changed forever.
Now as a psychotherapist for 40 years,
I know
that when we walk around feeling unlovable or unworthy,
it darkens our entire life.
This lack of internal self-support
and self-love
brings profound aloneness,
shame,
and hopelessness.
We need to create an inner life,
a home,
where we can always turn
for support and unconditional acceptance.
I call this: “Arriving already loved,
by you”.
So if you fall,
you’ll be the first one there
to pick yourself up.
In 1981,
I felt
big time.
I was diagnosed with ALS,
and given a ten percent chance
to live two years.
Later that day,
this man
(Laughter)
Ron,
my hero,
asked me to marry him.
(Applause)
A death sentence,
and a marriage proposal
(Laughter)
on the same day!
(Laughter)
Wow!
I knew that to give myself the best chance of survival,
I needed to be free of self-criticism,
blame and guilt.
I need a close compassionate connection
with every cell in my body,
every step of the way.
And I needed to talk to myself,
like I would to a treasured child:
“Mariah, I love you,
and I will be with you through this,
everyday,
until you draw your last breath.”
This healthy inner conversation
has huge transformational power
for each of us.
Thirty-six years ago,
if I had accepted
the identity of a dead woman walking,
I know I would not be here today.
I’ve made it my daily practice
to arrive here, there and everywhere,
already loved.
Let me leave you with this thought:
if you and I
were to lock arms
and walk and roll
through one day of your life,
and you whispered in my ear
every thought you had,
would I have a good day?
(Laughter)
Thank you.
(Applause)
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