advice from the hellish places

I’ve been reflecting lately… thinking back on the early days after I came to the horrific realization that I experienced sexual abuse in my childhood. Whether it is a stark realization, like mine – where my brain had hidden the knowledge from me, or a soft awakening to the fact that what happened was actually abuse, or even simply a desire to finally begin an active healing process, the engagement with such awareness can be incredibly delicate and dangerous. I have been thinking about some advice I might offer to others who find themselves on this precarious path. Actually, I have found it to be more like a tunnel, with no way out except by going forward.

I hope this list will be helpful to those inching their way toward healing. I hope it will also be helpful to those who love us – those we eventually tell our terrible secret, who we are desperately hoping will join us in the dark places we find ourselves.

My advice comes only from a place of experience. I am not a doctor or psychologist or trauma therapist. But I have walked this path. I have found myself deep in the pitfalls and have crawled back out. I’d like to leave signposts to guide those coming behind me. I’d like to think I can offer my presence to you, dear reader, if this is your path too.

1. Be so gentle with yourself. This story, this awareness, is like a bomb. It must be dismantled carefully if you don’t want it to explode all over everything. So explore your story patiently and tenderly. The most important healing will be your own posture toward yourself – particularly the “you” that experienced the abuse. If you’re like me, you hated her. I looked at that “me” with such contempt and disdain. I wished I was anyone but her. And at some point I came to the surprising realization that I needed to ask her forgiveness. I needed to forgive her for all the ways I had believed she failed me. And I needed to ask her to forgive me for turning my back on her and judging her so harshly.
2. When I say you need to move slowly and patiently it is because every step forward on this healing journey will cost you. When I tried to sprint forward – to explore my story more robustly in an attempt to heal more quickly, I had a huge reaction. For me, what this looked like was an entire day (or days) of one huge panic attack coupled with depression. This usually came 24 hours or so after the event that caused it. One day I decided to write a letter to my abuser. I didn’t intend to send it, but wanted to write what I would say to him. I was surprised how easy I found this exercise, and patted myself on the back for such a genius healing move. Then it hit. The next day I had a black cloud of heaviness that followed me everywhere. I couldn’t stop crying and my heart raced all day long. I didn’t want to see anyone. I felt paralyzed. This was one of the events that helped me to learn how to move more slowly. Now when I have a day like that I think back to what happened in the last 24 hours to see what triggered the attack.
3. Know this: the entire Universe will conspire with you to facilitate your healing. All of nature is walking beside you, cheering you on. At some point I realized that the Universe had given me a “blessing sign.” It was a blue jay. Every time I see a blue jay, I am reminded that the Universe wants me to succeed. I am reminded that I am loved and that on this difficult path forward I will not be alone. Sometimes I see a blue jay when I am feeling most alone or scared. But sometimes I see one before a difficult section of my healing. Last week, while I was washing dishes in the kitchen, a blue jay hopped up on the awning outside my window and peered in at me. It looked me straight in the eye before flying away. That night I had a significant reminder of my past. The wink and nod from the Universe helped me to feel held safe. I would encourage you to look for your own sign from the Universe. This amazing world of nature has been a wonderful companion on what is otherwise such a lonely journey.
4. Be very, very selective about who you let in to the deep, hurting places. I have had to learn this lesson the hard way. A couple of times I shared my story with someone I thought was safe, but in the end they merely handed me a bag of rocks. I used to think of those times with shame. As though I had been immature and just spewed my story everywhere. I think that shame caused me to feel anger and hatred toward the person too. But now that I have a kinder posture toward myself – now that I look at my reaching out as a beautiful thing, even when it failed – I can forgive those who didn’t respond well. Because one thing I know for sure: no one who hasn’t experienced this kind of trauma could ever, ever understand its breadth and depth. I say that with one exception – there are those who have walked with me through some of the grittiest parts. Those who went with me into the dark places. They understand. And they went willingly. I went because I had to. They came along because they love me. That is true love.
5. When I say I have changed my posture toward myself, what I mean is that I have consciously stopped blaming myself for what happened, for not running away, for not telling anyone, and for not fighting or screaming for help. This took some time. I remember one day I was driving and listening to a podcast. I can’t remember the context of the episode, but they were talking about the different ways our bodies respond to trauma. We grew up learning about “fight or flight.” I had never even heard of “freeze” as a stress or trauma response. But that’s exactly what happened to me. On the podcast (I think it was Hilary McBride, look her up – she’s amazing) I heard about how our body makes split-second decisions and chooses the BEST response for the moment. Our body takes many things into consideration when making this choice. The person on the podcast invited us to thank our bodies for making the very best choice – whether it was to run, to fight, or to freeze. Tears ran down my face and my heart beat nearly out of my chest. I had never before considered thanking my body for staying there. I had hated that choice. And hearing someone say out loud that my body had done the right thing – that I had done the only thing I could do in that moment was sweet relief. It led me down a path of self-forgiveness. I began to explore some of the reasons the other responses wouldn’t have worked. It was pretty obvious why I couldn’t have done those other things, but my shame had blinded me to that. Shame has the unique and grotesque feature of making us turn against our very self. We join the outside voices in blaming our own self. This is a cruel betrayal because we know the truth. Shame steals our ability to see it. True healing is to re-unite with your very self. It is to join with her against all accusations and shame-filled blame. It is to choose you.

That is enough for now. I will write more, but every time I sit with this post to write it, my world becomes a little fragile for a while. I become agitated and very tired. It is good work, but it must be done in small bits because of the cost.

I hope, dear friend, that this post gives you some insight. If you are on the same path, please receive some love from me through these words. Please know that I believe you are worth fighting for. You are good and lovely and worthy of the hard work of healing.

If you are walking beside someone on this path, I hope my words give you a little insight into their scary world. Most of all they just need you to be patient with them. They need you to love them and believe them and sometimes they need you to give them space. Not because you have done anything, but just because they are recovering from the dark places they have to go to as they heal.

I love you, my friend, even as I’m learning to love myself.