What? I Can Feel This?

Not being able to feel is a common malady for abuse survivors. When I first delved into my recovery, I was frustrated with my inability to feel. Denial was one of my survival tactics. I pushed my anger, and grief down so deep, I was numb to my own pain. One of the first things I remember feeling was sadness that I couldn’t feel.

As I started healing, I began feeling. Slowly, I created safe environments to honor my pain and little by little, I stopped dissociating. My feelings didn’t turn on like a light switch one day. It was more like a dimmer switch over a period of many years.

I had conflicting emotions about learning to stay present with my pain. Pain isn’t fun. I was definitely out of my comfort zone while dealing with the agonizing emotions that I had always kept at bay. At first I wondered, “Can this be good?” Yet, it became apparent to me that it was good. Authentically honoring my pain eventually put much of the past to rest.

Pain has a purpose. It’s a warning that something isn’t right and we need to pay attention. For the last few years, I have felt empowered by letting my emotions guide me. Contrary to the past where I “powered” through each hurtful situation - which only served to allow more harm - I began using my pain as a useful tool to protect myself from injury.

For me, the up side to being able to cut off my emotions was that I always prided myself at being great in a crisis. Whether it was my five-year old daughter who fell off of her bike and broke her nose, my ex-husband who cut through his thumb with a skill-saw, a fire, or a car accident - while other’s around me panicked and became frozen with fear - I dissociated from my feelings and went into logical action mode. I didn’t feel the event at the time or afterwards. I just “powered” through.

All good things must come to an end. Okay, I realize that dissociation isn’t a good thing - but sometimes things that aren’t good - seem good.

In spite of all my work at staying present with the pain of past or current mistreatment, I still kept my emotional reaction to crisis turned off until the crisis was over. Rather than not feeling the crisis at all - I began feeling the crisis - after the fact.

Yesterday, for the first time, I felt the crisis while it was happening. Okay, I know this is more progress, but – Yuck!

One of my employees had an accident yesterday (I’ll call him Jessie). He unintentionally stuck his hand into a food processing machine while it was operating. Everyone was in a panic, and as usual, I went into crisis mode. Jessie was in agony. He was light-headed, chalk white, and sweat poured from his face. He needed immediate care. Rather than waiting for an ambulance and then waiting in a hospital emergency room, I drove him to the Occupational Emergency Service's about a mile from the plant.

We wrapped his hand in a towel and loaded him into my car. In route, I called ahead to warn them of our impeding arrival. Blood oozed everywhere as Jessie peeked at his hand underneath the towel and whimpered, “Will I lose it? Please help me, Nancy.”

I have him a reassuring glance and said, "We'll get you some help. Don't look at it, and breath deep."

Then it happened. My emotions started creeping in right in the middle of a crisis! What? I can feel this? I fought to control my emotions.

As soon as we arrived at Occupational Services, they whisked Jessie past everyone in the waiting room straight back to a room full of doctors and nurses who worked efficiently and compassionately. At one point while the doctors worked on his mangled hand, they told Jessie to look away and breathe deep. I fought to ignore my stress and my feelings of empathy for Jessie. I breathed with him while he squeezed my hand to cope with the pain. For the first time in my life, I became light-headed. I was completely taken by surprise! With my free hand, I reached for a chair, feeling embarrassed and uncomfortable that my emotions had gotten the better of me. Then I realized – this is okay. It’s just new to be fully present in the midst of a crisis.

All those years of not feeling gave me the facade of being tough. Yet, in reality, it was being tough enough to deal with the demons of my past that allowed me to feel this crisis.

I know I can still keep my head in an emergency. But I feel it now too. I did see Jessie through X-Ray, pre-op and surgery and fortunately, his prognosis is very good. I left exhausted, but feeling more whole than ever before.