- I am healing.
- The way I look at things is changing.
- I am healing in my own way, at my own speed, in my own order.
- My healing journey may not be what any other person’s healing journey looks like. That’s okay.
- Even though I wish with all my heart for somebody to care for me the way I should have been cared for as a small child, it’s not going to happen.
- I’m the best person in the world to take care of me now.
- I’m getting way better at caring for myself.
- I can gather people around me who can give me small parts of what I need. My priest, my therapist, my medication provider, my shaman, my doctor, my massage therapist, my acupuncturists.
- I know that no one person can meet all my needs.
- I know that I have all I need to heal inside me. These people give me the tools I need to find those things.
- I know somedays look lime great successes while other days I can barely crawl out of my corner on the couch.
- I am in charge of my healing.
- I am healing even when i am not working on healing.
- More healing than I thought possible happens out in nature.
- I know what I need to do in every therapy session if I quiet my mind and listen.
- I can’t make my healing process go any faster than the slowest part of me can go.
- Healing can’t be hurried
- Somedays, I can climb a healing mountain.
- Somedays, I fall off a healing cliff.
- The shame probably isn’t mine even when it seems to be.
- It’s a process.
- It’s a choice.
- I am a warrior.
This is a quote that my friend Rhapsody posted on her blog the other day. This quote spoke to me in many different ways.
“Beneath every strong independent woman lies a broken girl who had to learn to get back up and to never depend on anyone.”
I am learning to be a strong and independent woman, a Warrior Queen. I was a broken girl who had to learn to get back up and not depend on anyone. But, thank goodness, sometimes, a good person whom I could depend on, reached out and helped me up. There were people I depended on from time to time. But, i had to depend on me to find these people who could help prop me up and walk part way on my journey with me. Somedays (or months), I’m still that broken girl and I now depend on my wife, my friends, my therapist, my shaman, my priest, my massage therapist to hold my hand and walk with me for awhile on my journey. I am a strong woman even on the days I can barely crawl on my path.
Yesterday, i went to therapy bound and determined to talk about the content of my recent hurricane of nightmares and flashbacks. I haven’t been sleeping well. I have not been eating well. I have not been exercising or meditating like i usually do because I CANNOT concentrate. Journaling or coloring is difficult.
When i walked into the therapy room and sat down, my therapist comnented on how beat i looked. I knew I did. Morning ablutions were unable to erase my exhaustion. I told my therapist I was exhausted thanks to my increased PTSD crap. She asked if it was the worst ever. Tears sprung to my eyes as I nodded. She suggested I finally talk about these flashbacks, but I just stared at her. I went on to talk about a list I had written about why i couldn’t talk about this incident of abuse. She shot down most of the reasons, in a very caring manner. I’d even said I didn’t trust her. My therapist laughed and called me out as I’ve talked time after time about how I trusted her the very first minute I walked in her door. Then she asked me to try to come back into my adult self as I seemed to be way younger than i really am, based on my body language. I told her I was my adult self, and she challenged that. Tears poured down my face. She suggested I go for a walk to gather myself. I did. I came back a couple of minutes later to tell my therapist that i was adult as I could be at this time. She thought that was a good observation. Then, i looked at the clock and said that now we were almost out of time and there wasn’t time to talk. Therapist pretty much agreed and then i said i must be totally stupid to waste all that time. She told me to stop judging myself and suggested i take the last 10 minutes to just relax. I cried out of sheer frustration and exhaustion for a few minutes, then i leaned my head against the couch and closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on breathing. My therapist did some work and smiled at me if i looked at her. When our time was up, she gave me a couple of minutes to gather myself, and as i was leaving, she told me to drive carefully and to try to get my eyes open a little wider. I know that my therapist believes that the session is up when it’s up and that all of her clients have the ability to pull themselves together. She has taught me many coping skills for leaving a session not in the best of shape. I know that I can help myself to be okay no matter where I am at the end of a session. So, it really surprised me to hear a hint of worry in her voice, and made me aware that I needed to take some extra care with myself.
When I got to my car, I cried tears of frustration. I’m so angry at myself that I had an opportunity to perhaps let some of the pain clear by talking about this stuff and I essentially wasted that opportunity. The hurricane has not subsided and I am still struggling.
Then, on the evening, I had a massage scheduled. I love my massages and was at least looking forward to tender touches on my body hopefully relieving some of my emotional and physical pain. We ran into one of my normal trouble spots and I had a bigger than normal emotional reaction. I got over that, and we ccontinyed the massage. I was p5n my belly, and my massage therapist was working on my shoukders as she stood by my head. She was pressing on them and all of a sudden I had a huge flashback of being held down by my shoulders. The massage therapist stopped, helped me to ground myself, and she suggested that we just work over the sheet and blanket. We did, and that was better. Then i turned over, and she was working on my shoulders and chest, moving her hands in and up. Once again, i was in a different place as her hands got toward my neck. Ugh. I was angry at my body, for wasting a chance at relaxation. I still am.
What is wrong with me? Why am I wasting my time? I want to just be as free as possible from my past, and yet, somedays, I feel like I pull the shackles of my past tighter.
I really want to get to the point where use my past as a boulder to climb closer to being the Warrior Queen I am becoming. I’m envisioning this happening in the near future, but it ferls out of my grasp.
I visited my abusers at one point in my 20’s, and they made their abusive advances toward me almost right away. I’d been to therapy for a few years, and I said no. No more abuse. I’m not doing it anymore. I really felt stronger than ever as my lips formed those words. And then, because saying no was not okay, that strength was yanked right away from me. I turned back into the crying, sniveling victim that I always was. I was made to do things that I seem unable to speak of even now. Lots of the abuse involved bodily functions. And i wound up totally hating my body and the things it insists on doing. I’ve overcome some of the hate, but I still find myself shamed by the things it must do. I need to process this time in my life as the flashbacks from it seem to be killing me. But, i can’t force the words out in therapy. I just cry. I’m not really sure how to approach this part of my trauma. I feel trapped.
My body is mirroring my soul. My soul is stressed and often sick, and this winter so is my body. I came down with the flu on Christmas Eve. My cough finally dissipated on Monday, January 8. Yesterday, I came down with a cold. My body is trying to get rid of all the germs by coughing, sneezing, having a runny nose, and having lots of fatigue. My soul has been trying to detox during Ththee last several years by crying, and letting go, and vomiting (figuratively and literally). My soul has been tired and craving quiet and alone time.
I started off today thinking that my body echoing my soul was surely a bad and scary thing. But through reflection, I’ve come to the conclusion that as my soul and heart really work on letting go, my body is starting to do the same. After all, trauma does become trapped in the cells. They need to let go too in order to be ready for complete healing.
So. I’m curled up in a corner of the couch, drinking tea and dozing. We are in the midst of a big winter storm and my body and soul are happy to comtemplate just being at home. I will cuddle my cats, read good books, and contemplate where my healing is going.
“Breathe. You’re going to be okay. Breathe and remember that you’ve been in this place before. You’ve been this uncomfortable and anxious and scared, and you’ve survived. Breathe and know that you can survive this too. These feelings can’t break you. They’re painful and debilitating, but you can sit with them and eventually, they will pass. Maybe not immediately, but sometime soon, they are going to fade and when they do, you’ll look back at this moment and laugh for having doubted your resilience. I know it feels unbearable right now, but keep breathing, again and again. This will pass. I promise it will pass.”
― Daniell Koepke
Cause it’s true. I have lived through the actual event. I have felt the feelings. The utter abandonment, the devastating loss of any hope, the desolation of overwhelming grief. And, yet, I am here. Living a productive life. Processing all that has happened to me. I need to talk about this. I know that I don’t heal without opening my wounds to the soothing balm of somebody listening to my experience with no judgment of me and being able to cry the long held in tears in the presence of a caring, empathetic person who is totally on my side.
How do you heal from something you can barely look at? How do you radically accept something that you would give a piece of your soul to change? How do you forgive yourself for something you’re supposedly not responsible for? How do you assign responsibility when your world is eternally fucked up? How do you not judge wben your mind throws the event in your face day after day, night after night? How do you stay sane when it feels like every cell in your body lives in a static state of insanity? How do you not judge when it is just awful? How do you make sense of inhumane when you are human? When is it you and not them? How do you let go when you open your hands, wash them thousands of times, shake them off and the shame and guilt still stick?
I don’t know.
All i know is the pain and confusion.
I am working on finding the answers