.....kind of.
Well, for the last couple of months I have been busy working on my house. It has been a great deal of hard work, and fun!
Every now and again, I receive a comment/question on one of my prior posts. Thank you!!! I am always happy to respond, reminding myself that I am still connected to the abuse/estrangement survivor community.
I keep thinking I should hop on and write a post, but never seem to get around to it. Up until a couple of months ago, I posted extensively on the various issues I encountered on my healing journey. Whenever someone writes to me with a question, or, to share their experience, I find that I can direct them to a post I've already written on the topic.
My family and I have been reconciled for over three years now and although I still have a great deal of empathy for the abuse recovery and/or estrangement experience, it is no longer a part of my everyday life. Therefore, I really don't have anything new to post.
As a survivor, I'm sure new issues will come up from time to time, and when they do, I will share my experience. Until then, feel free to peruse my older posts and/or to contact me. I'm always happy to lend my support.
Blessings,
Nancy
Showing posts with label child abuse recovery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label child abuse recovery. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Go Swimming with a Survivor!
When I first became estranged from my mother, I felt like I was drowning in an ocean of pain.
Suffering from the cumulative effects of abuse and estrangement, I fervently wished my mother would drive up in a boat, and rescue me from the ocean. She didn't.
But, the truth is - nobody could "rescue" me. I had to rescue myself. Authentic recovery meant doing the hard work, and swimming the distance to shore. But, what did happen was remarkable. One by one, people jumped into the ocean and began to swim with me. As I fought the tide:
So, I continue to swim - for myself - and for other survivors.
Suffering from the cumulative effects of abuse and estrangement, I fervently wished my mother would drive up in a boat, and rescue me from the ocean. She didn't.
But, the truth is - nobody could "rescue" me. I had to rescue myself. Authentic recovery meant doing the hard work, and swimming the distance to shore. But, what did happen was remarkable. One by one, people jumped into the ocean and began to swim with me. As I fought the tide:
- They helped keep me safe.
- They kept me company.
- They gave me validation, and encouragement.
- They shared my experience.
- Some already understood my struggle; others were interested in understanding, but either way-
- In essence, they said, "I know this is a huge struggle, and I'm not going to leave you alone. I'm going to swim with you.
So, I continue to swim - for myself - and for other survivors.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Mid-Life Crisis: Abuse and Transformation
As a younger adult, whenever I heard the term "Mid-Life Crisis," I conjured up stereotypical images of middle aged men foolishly trying to reclaim their youth with fast cars and young, gorgeous women.
However, according to Wikipedia there are many causes of - and reactions to - Mid-Life Turmoil:
A midlife crisis could be caused by aging itself, or aging in combination with changes, problems, or regrets over:
According to Wikipedia, one of the characteristics of a Mid-Life Crisis, is "a deep sense of remorse for goals not accomplished."
The "computer girl" part of me has been diligent about achieving goals, especially goals associated with business. But, there is one goal that often eludes abuse survivors - "the pursuit of happiness" or should I say emotional freedom.
Currently, I'm having what I would call a "Mid-Life Experience." Although at times it does feel like a "crisis," it also has qualities that feel like a hopeful "transformation."
Many of my recent posts have touched on this transformation: Have To vs Want To, Survival Tactics - Peeling Away the Layers, Letting Go and the Passages of our Lives.
Much of my adulthood I struggled with my abuse recovery. When I finally reached the point that my abuse no longer felt present, I rejoiced. I am grateful that I no longer have nightmares, suffer from dissociation, PTSD, or feel "triggered," by old memories.
Now that I am free from the pain of childhood "events," I am experiencing the disappointment of mourning the residual effects of recovery: Recovery has many layers. Just as I finished mourning the loss of my childhood, I find that I'm doing major grief work over the loss of much of my adulthood.
I'm mourning all of the time lost performing necessary recovery work. I'm mourning:
For me, major grief work has always signaled a new era. For example, I'm mourning all of the time I "overachieved," because I now feel "enlightened" by no longer overachieving. I'm grieving all of the years I lost by working too much. If I was still willing to "overachieve" my psyche wouldn't be ready to mourn. Likewise, if I still had boundary issues, I'd still be spending my time trying to learn to exercise clear, respectful boundaries. Now that I do exercise boundaries, I'm mourning all of the years I allowed myself to get hurt by not safe-guarding my own well-being, etc. All of these changes felt very empowering at first, but now I'm mourning all of the time I lost before I learned the skills I have now.
Past experience tells me that honoring the depth of my pain opens the door to new possibilities.
Hence - "Mid-Life Transformation" - mourning the old and moving on to the new.
However, according to Wikipedia there are many causes of - and reactions to - Mid-Life Turmoil:
A midlife crisis could be caused by aging itself, or aging in combination with changes, problems, or regrets over:
- work or career
- spousal relationships
- maturation of children
- aging or death of parents
- physical changes associated with aging
Midlife crises seem to affect men and women differently. Researchers[6] have proposed that the triggers for mid-life crisis differ between men and women, with male mid-life crisis more likely to be caused by work issues.
I'd add to the Wikipedia list - Abuse Recovery.According to Wikipedia, one of the characteristics of a Mid-Life Crisis, is "a deep sense of remorse for goals not accomplished."
The "computer girl" part of me has been diligent about achieving goals, especially goals associated with business. But, there is one goal that often eludes abuse survivors - "the pursuit of happiness" or should I say emotional freedom.
Currently, I'm having what I would call a "Mid-Life Experience." Although at times it does feel like a "crisis," it also has qualities that feel like a hopeful "transformation."
Many of my recent posts have touched on this transformation: Have To vs Want To, Survival Tactics - Peeling Away the Layers, Letting Go and the Passages of our Lives.
Much of my adulthood I struggled with my abuse recovery. When I finally reached the point that my abuse no longer felt present, I rejoiced. I am grateful that I no longer have nightmares, suffer from dissociation, PTSD, or feel "triggered," by old memories.
Now that I am free from the pain of childhood "events," I am experiencing the disappointment of mourning the residual effects of recovery: Recovery has many layers. Just as I finished mourning the loss of my childhood, I find that I'm doing major grief work over the loss of much of my adulthood.
I'm mourning all of the time lost performing necessary recovery work. I'm mourning:
- That I started out ill equipped to navigate as an adult
- That I was dealing with recovery while so many of my peers were enjoying life
- All of the years I was trying to figure out what constitutes a healthy relationship
- All of the years I spent trying to learn boundaries, self-parenting, how to respond to betrayal, etc.
- All of the years I hadn't yet healed enough to safe-guard my own well-being
- That I modeled poor relationship skills to my children
- That I wasn't able to provide my children an "intact" family
- All of the years that I let "computer girl" rule my life and overachieve
For me, major grief work has always signaled a new era. For example, I'm mourning all of the time I "overachieved," because I now feel "enlightened" by no longer overachieving. I'm grieving all of the years I lost by working too much. If I was still willing to "overachieve" my psyche wouldn't be ready to mourn. Likewise, if I still had boundary issues, I'd still be spending my time trying to learn to exercise clear, respectful boundaries. Now that I do exercise boundaries, I'm mourning all of the years I allowed myself to get hurt by not safe-guarding my own well-being, etc. All of these changes felt very empowering at first, but now I'm mourning all of the time I lost before I learned the skills I have now.
Past experience tells me that honoring the depth of my pain opens the door to new possibilities.
Hence - "Mid-Life Transformation" - mourning the old and moving on to the new.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Did That Just Happen?
I can't count the number of times I found myself on the receiving end of some sort of physical or emotional violence only to have my mother (or other family members) "pretend" nothing happened.
As a child, I sometimes questioned my sanity: Did that just happen?
As a young adult, the "pretending" made me angry.
As both a child and a young adult, I used to walk on eggshells around my mother. I never knew when she would unleash a rampage: cursing, yelling, belittling, blaming, etc. Then, the next time I'd see her she'd greet me with a big smile and the words, "Hi honey!" like nothing ever happened. It was crazy-making stuff!
I know I'm not alone in this experience. A common complaint I hear from other adult abuse survivors who are trying to maintain or re-establish contact with a family member is that of contending with a tirade over the phone, by e-mail, or in person only to have their family member act as if nothing happened the next time around.
While it is true that "pretending" can be rooted in some sort of sociopathy (no conscious), I don't think that is always the case. I believe that many abusers have a conscious but don't regard their behavior as abusive.
I read something once that said that human beings can't bear the thought that we have done something horrible, because if we did, we wouldn't be able to live with ourselves. Our tortured conscious requires us to take some sort of action to resolve our inner turmoil. We have a couple of choices:
A) We can help the other individual by repairing the damage we've done. This also helps us by easing our conscious. However, many people don't have the strength, courage, awareness, or emotional capability to repair the damage; so, they choose plan B.
B) We can ease our conscious by convincing ourselves that what we did wasn't so bad (or was justified) and then banish it from our mind like it didn't happen.
In other words, when it comes to abuse's and someone "pretends," it didn't happen, there isn't anything we can do to "make" them acknowledge the offenses. If they can't "repair" it - they have to "ignore" it.
My mother definitely has a conscious. For years, I tried to plead to her conscious to do the "right" thing. To me, reparation seemed like an easy thing to do - acknowledge, apologize, don't do it again . It took a great deal of time for me to wrap my head around the concept that no amount of explaining or pleading would result in acknowledgment. She didn't know how to "repair" the damage (or change her behavior), so her conscious wouldn't allow her to accept that she did something horrible.
Sixteen years ago, amidst continued family violence, the less healed me wasn't able to safe-guard my own well being, or that of my children. At the time, my only choice was estrangement. For some people, persistent physical and emotional violence continues to prohibit any safe contact. However, in my case, time changed some of the dynamics in my family. And, our fourteen years apart afforded me enough healing (and validation from others), that I was able to heal my past trauma without my mothers acknowledgment of the "specifics." I also learned to keep myself out of harms way in the present by setting and maintaining clear, respectful boundaries.
Thus far, the "pretending" issue hasn't come up again, but if it does, I know there is nothing I can do except safe-guard my own well-being.
As a child, I sometimes questioned my sanity: Did that just happen?
As a young adult, the "pretending" made me angry.
As both a child and a young adult, I used to walk on eggshells around my mother. I never knew when she would unleash a rampage: cursing, yelling, belittling, blaming, etc. Then, the next time I'd see her she'd greet me with a big smile and the words, "Hi honey!" like nothing ever happened. It was crazy-making stuff!
I know I'm not alone in this experience. A common complaint I hear from other adult abuse survivors who are trying to maintain or re-establish contact with a family member is that of contending with a tirade over the phone, by e-mail, or in person only to have their family member act as if nothing happened the next time around.
While it is true that "pretending" can be rooted in some sort of sociopathy (no conscious), I don't think that is always the case. I believe that many abusers have a conscious but don't regard their behavior as abusive.
I read something once that said that human beings can't bear the thought that we have done something horrible, because if we did, we wouldn't be able to live with ourselves. Our tortured conscious requires us to take some sort of action to resolve our inner turmoil. We have a couple of choices:
A) We can help the other individual by repairing the damage we've done. This also helps us by easing our conscious. However, many people don't have the strength, courage, awareness, or emotional capability to repair the damage; so, they choose plan B.
B) We can ease our conscious by convincing ourselves that what we did wasn't so bad (or was justified) and then banish it from our mind like it didn't happen.
In other words, when it comes to abuse's and someone "pretends," it didn't happen, there isn't anything we can do to "make" them acknowledge the offenses. If they can't "repair" it - they have to "ignore" it.
My mother definitely has a conscious. For years, I tried to plead to her conscious to do the "right" thing. To me, reparation seemed like an easy thing to do - acknowledge, apologize, don't do it again . It took a great deal of time for me to wrap my head around the concept that no amount of explaining or pleading would result in acknowledgment. She didn't know how to "repair" the damage (or change her behavior), so her conscious wouldn't allow her to accept that she did something horrible.
Sixteen years ago, amidst continued family violence, the less healed me wasn't able to safe-guard my own well being, or that of my children. At the time, my only choice was estrangement. For some people, persistent physical and emotional violence continues to prohibit any safe contact. However, in my case, time changed some of the dynamics in my family. And, our fourteen years apart afforded me enough healing (and validation from others), that I was able to heal my past trauma without my mothers acknowledgment of the "specifics." I also learned to keep myself out of harms way in the present by setting and maintaining clear, respectful boundaries.
Thus far, the "pretending" issue hasn't come up again, but if it does, I know there is nothing I can do except safe-guard my own well-being.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Being Right - Being Wrong - Being Confident
I've noticed a repetitive theme from self-help experts:
Would you rather be right, or happy?
Would you rather be right, or loved?
Would you rather be right, or have a relationship?
I am embarrassed to admit it, but when I have a disagreement with my partner, my knee-jerk reaction is to "win" the argument and be "right."
It appears to me that, at times, most couples seem to get caught the "right-wrong" trap. I believe that for survivors this is a particularly difficult pattern to break. I've recently identified the need to be "right" as yet another layer of "child abuse recovery" that I am trying to navigate.
I grew up in a home where blame was rampant. My step-father and my mother physically and emotionally beat me up, and blamed me for the state of our lives. They said it was my fault that they were angry; my fault that they beat me. In the right-wrong argument, I was always wrong and continued to get hurt. Yet, I persevered in the argument believing that if Mom "understood," I'd be safe and I wouldn't get hurt.
I think that on a very unconscious and "primal" level, the little girl in me still believes that "winning"an argument means that I won't get hurt again.
During my 14 year estrangement from my family, I healed enough to learn not to engage in arguments with my family members, not to fall into the "right-wrong" trap, not to try to change their perceptions, or to get them to "get it" when they didn't. I learned to "hold" their experience separate from mine and to simply say, "I'm sure that was your experience," while I took responsibility for my own life by quietly and confidently standing in my own truth without needing validation from them. To say that was a huge accomplishment for me would be an understatement.
I am able to do this by protecting my boundaries and by not being "vulnerable." This involves attaining a healthy "detachment" and a certain amount of "indifference" to negative comments.
I usually don't feel the need to be "right" in non-intimate relationships; however, in an intimate relationship, I am vulnerable and it is difficult for me not to engage.
In an intimate relationship, when I feel vulnerable and I run into a conflict, I often site facts and examples to "prove" my point, rather than taking the more powerful (and respectful) position of saying, "I don't see it that way," and standing quietly, and confidently in my own experience.
But, I'm working on it.....
Would you rather be right, or happy?
Would you rather be right, or loved?
Would you rather be right, or have a relationship?
I am embarrassed to admit it, but when I have a disagreement with my partner, my knee-jerk reaction is to "win" the argument and be "right."
It appears to me that, at times, most couples seem to get caught the "right-wrong" trap. I believe that for survivors this is a particularly difficult pattern to break. I've recently identified the need to be "right" as yet another layer of "child abuse recovery" that I am trying to navigate.
I grew up in a home where blame was rampant. My step-father and my mother physically and emotionally beat me up, and blamed me for the state of our lives. They said it was my fault that they were angry; my fault that they beat me. In the right-wrong argument, I was always wrong and continued to get hurt. Yet, I persevered in the argument believing that if Mom "understood," I'd be safe and I wouldn't get hurt.
I think that on a very unconscious and "primal" level, the little girl in me still believes that "winning"an argument means that I won't get hurt again.
During my 14 year estrangement from my family, I healed enough to learn not to engage in arguments with my family members, not to fall into the "right-wrong" trap, not to try to change their perceptions, or to get them to "get it" when they didn't. I learned to "hold" their experience separate from mine and to simply say, "I'm sure that was your experience," while I took responsibility for my own life by quietly and confidently standing in my own truth without needing validation from them. To say that was a huge accomplishment for me would be an understatement.
I am able to do this by protecting my boundaries and by not being "vulnerable." This involves attaining a healthy "detachment" and a certain amount of "indifference" to negative comments.
I usually don't feel the need to be "right" in non-intimate relationships; however, in an intimate relationship, I am vulnerable and it is difficult for me not to engage.
In an intimate relationship, when I feel vulnerable and I run into a conflict, I often site facts and examples to "prove" my point, rather than taking the more powerful (and respectful) position of saying, "I don't see it that way," and standing quietly, and confidently in my own experience.
But, I'm working on it.....
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Have To vs. Want To
In my last post, I wrote about how one of my old survival tactics, "computer girl" has ruled my life. I've reassured this part of me that she can still use her organizational skills, but I'm going to rein her in and find a balance.
Last January, someone broke into my house. The thief tried to kick in the front door. Although he did damage the door, he was unable to get in. Then he destroyed the back door and gained access to my house.
Knowing someone violated my "safe place" felt very creepy to say the least, but "computer girl" jumped into action...I have to call the police...I have to call the insurance...I have to make a list of everything taken...I have to have new doors hung...I have to clean the finger printing dust...I have to replace necessary items, I have to deal with feeling unsafe, violated, and angry, along with all the other have to's in my life at work, kids, writing, appointments, social obligations, etc.
What I wanted to do, was something quite simple. I wanted to paint the doors and trim, but there is only so much time in the day and computer girl had too many "have to's" in her life; so, want to's - had to take a back seat.
Well, this weekend (five months after the break-in), I finally set aside my "have to's and did what I wanted to - I painted the doors and trim.
As I painted, I realized just how acutely I'm feeling the effects of letting "have to's" and computer girl rule my life. While feeling "acutely" is very disturbing, I also know it is a good thing. Pain is a good motivator for change.
It reminds me of the point in my abuse recovery when I finally "felt" the effects of my abuse. I spent decades seeking to be heard about my abuse and longed for validation. I was in a sort of "stuck" limbo - unable to move forward until someone validated my pain. Once someone said, "Oh my, that is horrible," I was finally able to say, "Hey yeah, that was horrible!" And I felt my abuse more acutely than ever before. It was both disturbing, and freeing, and it motivated me to "recover."
On a certain level, I've always felt the effects of computer girl ruling my life - stress, tired, overwhelmed, etc., but even after I realized that this is another survival tactic that I need to shed, computer girl has been resisting.
It isn't until now that I've slowed down and acknowledged how I feel about "over-responsibility" and "over-achieving" that I'm feeling it all acutely. "Hey yeah, that is horrible!"
Okay, I'm on board. I want to make room for "want to's."
Last January, someone broke into my house. The thief tried to kick in the front door. Although he did damage the door, he was unable to get in. Then he destroyed the back door and gained access to my house.
Knowing someone violated my "safe place" felt very creepy to say the least, but "computer girl" jumped into action...I have to call the police...I have to call the insurance...I have to make a list of everything taken...I have to have new doors hung...I have to clean the finger printing dust...I have to replace necessary items, I have to deal with feeling unsafe, violated, and angry, along with all the other have to's in my life at work, kids, writing, appointments, social obligations, etc.
What I wanted to do, was something quite simple. I wanted to paint the doors and trim, but there is only so much time in the day and computer girl had too many "have to's" in her life; so, want to's - had to take a back seat.
Well, this weekend (five months after the break-in), I finally set aside my "have to's and did what I wanted to - I painted the doors and trim.
As I painted, I realized just how acutely I'm feeling the effects of letting "have to's" and computer girl rule my life. While feeling "acutely" is very disturbing, I also know it is a good thing. Pain is a good motivator for change.
It reminds me of the point in my abuse recovery when I finally "felt" the effects of my abuse. I spent decades seeking to be heard about my abuse and longed for validation. I was in a sort of "stuck" limbo - unable to move forward until someone validated my pain. Once someone said, "Oh my, that is horrible," I was finally able to say, "Hey yeah, that was horrible!" And I felt my abuse more acutely than ever before. It was both disturbing, and freeing, and it motivated me to "recover."
On a certain level, I've always felt the effects of computer girl ruling my life - stress, tired, overwhelmed, etc., but even after I realized that this is another survival tactic that I need to shed, computer girl has been resisting.
It isn't until now that I've slowed down and acknowledged how I feel about "over-responsibility" and "over-achieving" that I'm feeling it all acutely. "Hey yeah, that is horrible!"
Okay, I'm on board. I want to make room for "want to's."
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Survival Tactics - Peeling Away the Layers
Peeling away my built-in survival tactics has been and continues to be a life-long process.
Although I didn't know it at the time, I used many survival tactics as a child. During adulthood, I became aware of numerous ways in which the "child me" ensured my continued existence: denial, dissociation, inability to feel, stepping in as the family mother, etc.
I am certain that the exact mechanisms that save our lives as children, harm us as adults. Recently, I was amazed to learn that the very rhythm of my life is part and parcel of one of my childhood survival tactics. But, I'll get to that.
Undoing life-long mechanisms is a very difficult undertaking. Awareness is the first step, but even when we become aware, it is hard to let go.
As I've peeled away each method of survival, I've thanked the child me for keeping us alive and reassured her that the adult me can "take it from here." Twenty years ago, denial was the first to go. I say that as if it happened overnight. On the contrary; I spent more than ten adult years in denial. Not denial over the facts: daily beatings, burning my 10-year old hands, thrown down the stairs, stabbed with a fork, etc., but rather, "Is that really so bad?"
As a dependent child, denial protected me from that which was too painful to bear. As an adult, denial kept me in harms way. I had to "shake myself" free from denial in order to protect myself from further abuse and to heal. Ridding myself of denial opened the door to validation, expressing my anger, and moving from victim to survivor.
Then, another hidden survival tactic revealed itself: dissociation. As an adult, dissociation not only covered up the pain of my past, it was such a intricate part of my make-up that it also masked painful situations in the present. Pain has a purpose; it warns us of impending injury and is a useful resource for protecting ourselves.
I dissociated for twenty-five years before I learned about this part of myself. Today, I can identify the day when, at ten years old, I laid the groundwork for dissociation. For some reason, I could handle my own abuse far better than helplessly watching as my brothers were beaten.
One day, months after my mother married my step father Ed, for no apparent reason, he unleashed his rage on my sweet and innocent five-year old brother Randy.
The harsh command, "Grab 'em, Randy" thundered through the kitchen. Little Randy immediately complied, bent over, and grabbed his tiny ankles. I watched with horror as the blow cracked across my baby brother's small behind. Randy jumped, screamed with pain, and grabbed his burning buttocks.
Ed turned on him with renewed fury, and informed him he had just broken the new rule of letting go of his ankles without permission.
"Just for that," Ed screamed in undisguised rage, "you'll get two more," and with that hauled off with the heavy wooden paddle, hitting him again. Little Randy flew across the kitchen and landed face first on the cold linoleum floor in a dark corner of the room, crying but still holding onto his ankles. Ed grabbed my terrified brother around the waist while Randy's hands remained locked around his ankles, set him upright, and administered the second blow.
I stood trance-like without moving a muscle, unable to help, powerless to prevent the next beating. I imagined myself safe in my room, away from the scene of the pain.
As the daily violence escalated, this dissociative groundwork morphed into "fugues" where I unknowingly disappeared to an unknown place. These "fugues" continued into adulthood whenever I experienced unbearable pain.
Once I learned about my dissociation, I spent years letting go of this old method of keeping the pain at bay.
Once I stopped dissociating, I went about the hard work of peeling away another survival tactic - not feeling. I learned to stay present with my emotions, rather than "powering" through the pain. This meant something new for me. Rather than ignoring my feelings, I sat with my anger, depression and sadness for days or months on end in order to resolve my circumstances. I was in very unfamiliar territory.
For instance, I dropped my familiar "tough guy" persona and mourned past and current losses. This change allowed me to "deal" and affect changes in my life rather than "suck up" an ever-increasing and suffocating mountain of pain.
At times it sucks to feel pain in a "normal" way. It also feels "freeing" and healthy. The past few years have brought relief to feel unencumbered by my past. All my hard work paid dividends in that I feel empowered to safeguard my own well-being.
Imagine my surprise when a new survival tactic reared its head and bit me in the ......
This survival mechanism is the part of me I call "computer girl." Of course, computer girl has her roots in my childhood. There was no one to take care of us and bring the much-needed order and cohesiveness into our lives. I learned to ignore my body, while I "powered through" and did what ever it took for my psyche to survive. After all, when your body is ravaged by abuse, it is accustomed to a normal state of physical pain and stress. So, computer girl took over and has continued to rule my life.
From the moment I wake up each day, "computer girl" boots up and races to organize my every movement, project, and all of the responsibilities I have collected along the way: I have to do this.....and that...and this...and this... work, home, family, friends, writing, recovery...This is how I can solve this problem at work....churn, churn, churn...This is how I can create this system at work..churn, churn, churn, This is how I can write this...churn, churn, churn...don't forget this appointment, that social event, resolve this...churn, churn, churn, etc.. until I go to bed.
Finally, at the brink of total exhaustion, I have to listen to my body. Am I tired? Run down? Stressed? Affecting my health? The answer to all of these questions is, "Yes!"
It's time to find a new rhythm for my life; to bring my mind and body into sync. I've had to tell computer girl - the wounded child - that she can still use her organizational skills, but she can no longer be in the drivers seat. The "adult me" is going to take control and care for us both. Computer girl is resisting.
It is a very uncomfortable process to listen to the body I've ignored all my life.
As I struggle to peel away another survival mechanism, just as before, I want instant results. But alas - change takes time.....
Although I didn't know it at the time, I used many survival tactics as a child. During adulthood, I became aware of numerous ways in which the "child me" ensured my continued existence: denial, dissociation, inability to feel, stepping in as the family mother, etc.
I am certain that the exact mechanisms that save our lives as children, harm us as adults. Recently, I was amazed to learn that the very rhythm of my life is part and parcel of one of my childhood survival tactics. But, I'll get to that.
Undoing life-long mechanisms is a very difficult undertaking. Awareness is the first step, but even when we become aware, it is hard to let go.
As I've peeled away each method of survival, I've thanked the child me for keeping us alive and reassured her that the adult me can "take it from here." Twenty years ago, denial was the first to go. I say that as if it happened overnight. On the contrary; I spent more than ten adult years in denial. Not denial over the facts: daily beatings, burning my 10-year old hands, thrown down the stairs, stabbed with a fork, etc., but rather, "Is that really so bad?"
As a dependent child, denial protected me from that which was too painful to bear. As an adult, denial kept me in harms way. I had to "shake myself" free from denial in order to protect myself from further abuse and to heal. Ridding myself of denial opened the door to validation, expressing my anger, and moving from victim to survivor.
Then, another hidden survival tactic revealed itself: dissociation. As an adult, dissociation not only covered up the pain of my past, it was such a intricate part of my make-up that it also masked painful situations in the present. Pain has a purpose; it warns us of impending injury and is a useful resource for protecting ourselves.
I dissociated for twenty-five years before I learned about this part of myself. Today, I can identify the day when, at ten years old, I laid the groundwork for dissociation. For some reason, I could handle my own abuse far better than helplessly watching as my brothers were beaten.
One day, months after my mother married my step father Ed, for no apparent reason, he unleashed his rage on my sweet and innocent five-year old brother Randy.
The harsh command, "Grab 'em, Randy" thundered through the kitchen. Little Randy immediately complied, bent over, and grabbed his tiny ankles. I watched with horror as the blow cracked across my baby brother's small behind. Randy jumped, screamed with pain, and grabbed his burning buttocks.
Ed turned on him with renewed fury, and informed him he had just broken the new rule of letting go of his ankles without permission.
"Just for that," Ed screamed in undisguised rage, "you'll get two more," and with that hauled off with the heavy wooden paddle, hitting him again. Little Randy flew across the kitchen and landed face first on the cold linoleum floor in a dark corner of the room, crying but still holding onto his ankles. Ed grabbed my terrified brother around the waist while Randy's hands remained locked around his ankles, set him upright, and administered the second blow.
I stood trance-like without moving a muscle, unable to help, powerless to prevent the next beating. I imagined myself safe in my room, away from the scene of the pain.
As the daily violence escalated, this dissociative groundwork morphed into "fugues" where I unknowingly disappeared to an unknown place. These "fugues" continued into adulthood whenever I experienced unbearable pain.
Once I learned about my dissociation, I spent years letting go of this old method of keeping the pain at bay.
Once I stopped dissociating, I went about the hard work of peeling away another survival tactic - not feeling. I learned to stay present with my emotions, rather than "powering" through the pain. This meant something new for me. Rather than ignoring my feelings, I sat with my anger, depression and sadness for days or months on end in order to resolve my circumstances. I was in very unfamiliar territory.
For instance, I dropped my familiar "tough guy" persona and mourned past and current losses. This change allowed me to "deal" and affect changes in my life rather than "suck up" an ever-increasing and suffocating mountain of pain.
At times it sucks to feel pain in a "normal" way. It also feels "freeing" and healthy. The past few years have brought relief to feel unencumbered by my past. All my hard work paid dividends in that I feel empowered to safeguard my own well-being.
Imagine my surprise when a new survival tactic reared its head and bit me in the ......
This survival mechanism is the part of me I call "computer girl." Of course, computer girl has her roots in my childhood. There was no one to take care of us and bring the much-needed order and cohesiveness into our lives. I learned to ignore my body, while I "powered through" and did what ever it took for my psyche to survive. After all, when your body is ravaged by abuse, it is accustomed to a normal state of physical pain and stress. So, computer girl took over and has continued to rule my life.
From the moment I wake up each day, "computer girl" boots up and races to organize my every movement, project, and all of the responsibilities I have collected along the way: I have to do this.....and that...and this...and this... work, home, family, friends, writing, recovery...This is how I can solve this problem at work....churn, churn, churn...This is how I can create this system at work..churn, churn, churn, This is how I can write this...churn, churn, churn...don't forget this appointment, that social event, resolve this...churn, churn, churn, etc.. until I go to bed.
Finally, at the brink of total exhaustion, I have to listen to my body. Am I tired? Run down? Stressed? Affecting my health? The answer to all of these questions is, "Yes!"
It's time to find a new rhythm for my life; to bring my mind and body into sync. I've had to tell computer girl - the wounded child - that she can still use her organizational skills, but she can no longer be in the drivers seat. The "adult me" is going to take control and care for us both. Computer girl is resisting.
It is a very uncomfortable process to listen to the body I've ignored all my life.
As I struggle to peel away another survival mechanism, just as before, I want instant results. But alas - change takes time.....
Sunday, May 31, 2009
The Shack
Popular stories of "instant" forgiveness always concern me. The Shack, by William P. Young is no exception.
When I began reading The Shack, the author captivated me with a compelling story that began by briefly outlining a tale of family violence and estrangement. Mack, the central character, left home at the age of thirteen after spending two days tied to a tree while being beaten by his father for telling the "family secret" to a church elder.
Mack adapted to life on his own quickly, and journeyed forward by "burying" his past. As an adult, he opened his heart to create a new loving family with his wife and children - only to have an unspeakable tragedy strike again - the kidnapping and murder of his six-year old daughter.
Young eloquently captures the human spirit in Mack's questioning of how God could allow such a tragedy to befall His innocent children. He further questions if he can open his heart and trust his Heavenly Father, when his human father hurt him so deeply.
The author held my interest with the mysterious letter from Papa (God) inviting Mack back to the shack where he experienced the darkest moment of his past; the shack where he discovered confirming evidence of his daughters murder. Was this a sick joke? A trap set by the murderer? Or, a message from God?
Once inside the shack however, the story took on a "New-Age" detour that offered Band-Aid type platitudes and simplistic catch-phrases, rather than surgery for the soul.
The author does share some "pearls of wisdom" - especially in the messages of God's love for His people. Much of what he says in this regard is true; however, he dismisses any notion that God is just, fair, or has any rules, laws, or expectations; when in fact, our God of the Bible is both loving and just.
Which leads me to forgiveness: Again, the author offers some "pearls of wisdom" in that forgiveness is not about excusing, forgetting, trusting, or even necessarily reconciliation. Nonetheless, the god of The Shack sidesteps any prerequisites such as confession, repentance, restitution, and justice (Luke 17:3 - Be on your guard! If another disciple sins, you must rebuke the offender, and if there is repentance, you must forgive).
After more than a days worth of conversations with Papa (God), Jesus, and Sarayu (The Holy Spirit) on the general principles of love, Sarayu heals Mack's human eyes so that he can see as God sees. As Mack looks out over a sea of God's children in the form of beautiful color and light, he notices one agitated light. When Sarayu reveals that light as Mack's dead father, he runs to embrace him in joyous forgiveness and reconciliation.
A few chapters later, Mack repeats this "magical" sort of forgiveness for the man who murdered his daughter even though we see no evidence of Mack working to heal his loss or deal with the injustice. Further, the murderer was never identified, caught, or tried for his crime.
Yet, within the space of a short conversation with Papa (God), Mack traveled the emotional distance from his desire for revenge to forgiveness:
Papa to Mack: "...You already know what I want, don't you?" (Kindle version, location 3573)
"Papa," he cried, "how can I ever forgive that son of a bitch who killed my Missy. If he were here today, I don't know what I would do. I know it isn't right, but I want him to hurt like he hurt me...if I can't get justice I still want revenge." (Kindle version - location 3576)
After Papa and Mack engage in a discussion on the power and necessity of forgiveness, Mack says out loud:
"I forgive you. I forgive you . I forgive you." (Kindle version - location 3629)
Then, Mack asks, "So, is it all right if I'm still angry?"
Papa was quick to respond "Absolutely!..." (location 3634)
This sort of inauthentic forgiveness places an unrealistic burden on those who are unable to forgive by "magic." In the words of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, "cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance." Additionally, it cheapens the journey for trauma survivors who have done the hard work to heal and possibly even forgive. (See Forgiveness and Abuse).
While it is true that forgiveness is made manifest by the love and grace of God, forgiveness requires our participation in the process. One of the dangers of encouraging premature forgiveness is that it usually doesn't last; thereby impeding genuine healing and forgiveness. Another danger is using premature forgiveness as a method of avoiding the truth, and feelings, or emotions that are too painful to "examine."
If we follow Christ's example, even Jesus expressed 27 verses of anger in Matthew 23:13-39 before going to the cross. If we hope to permanently forgive, expressing anger is an important part of the process. Additionally, it is interesting to note that Jesus did not utter the words, "I forgive you," Himself, but rather, He asked His Father who remained all powerful to forgive the unrepentant. ("Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do." Luke 23:34)
The true gift of forgiveness is in the spiritual and emotional growth we experience during an authentic healing process. God's power is truly fulfilled when the offender repents, the victim forgives, and both participate in the process. In the absence of repentance, forgiveness is not an obligation on the part of someone who has been harmed, but can take place with adequate healing.
As an abuse survivor, I for one, wouldn't trade the lessons I've learned by creating the space necessary to heal. Lessons about trusting others to validate my pain, anger, and sadness; trusting myself to safe-guard my own well-being; to respond appropriately to betrayal and injustice; to remain present with my feelings; to set boundaries; practice self-care, and take responsibility for my life. Through it all, I have experienced proof of God's love for me. All these "gifts" and more would have been lost with "false," premature, or instantaneous forgiveness, as well as undercut tangible, realistic, long-term solutions for real human suffering.
Forgiveness is not an event of immediacy. It's not a bolt of light that brightens the soul and burns the pain to ashes. Forgiveness is a slow transformational process. Hard earned life-lessons take a great deal of time and grueling work!
God doesn't promise to heal us by "magic," but rather invites us to trust that His Love and Grace will carry us through as we participate in our own healing journey.
When I began reading The Shack, the author captivated me with a compelling story that began by briefly outlining a tale of family violence and estrangement. Mack, the central character, left home at the age of thirteen after spending two days tied to a tree while being beaten by his father for telling the "family secret" to a church elder.
Mack adapted to life on his own quickly, and journeyed forward by "burying" his past. As an adult, he opened his heart to create a new loving family with his wife and children - only to have an unspeakable tragedy strike again - the kidnapping and murder of his six-year old daughter.
Young eloquently captures the human spirit in Mack's questioning of how God could allow such a tragedy to befall His innocent children. He further questions if he can open his heart and trust his Heavenly Father, when his human father hurt him so deeply.
The author held my interest with the mysterious letter from Papa (God) inviting Mack back to the shack where he experienced the darkest moment of his past; the shack where he discovered confirming evidence of his daughters murder. Was this a sick joke? A trap set by the murderer? Or, a message from God?
Once inside the shack however, the story took on a "New-Age" detour that offered Band-Aid type platitudes and simplistic catch-phrases, rather than surgery for the soul.
The author does share some "pearls of wisdom" - especially in the messages of God's love for His people. Much of what he says in this regard is true; however, he dismisses any notion that God is just, fair, or has any rules, laws, or expectations; when in fact, our God of the Bible is both loving and just.
Which leads me to forgiveness: Again, the author offers some "pearls of wisdom" in that forgiveness is not about excusing, forgetting, trusting, or even necessarily reconciliation. Nonetheless, the god of The Shack sidesteps any prerequisites such as confession, repentance, restitution, and justice (Luke 17:3 - Be on your guard! If another disciple sins, you must rebuke the offender, and if there is repentance, you must forgive).
After more than a days worth of conversations with Papa (God), Jesus, and Sarayu (The Holy Spirit) on the general principles of love, Sarayu heals Mack's human eyes so that he can see as God sees. As Mack looks out over a sea of God's children in the form of beautiful color and light, he notices one agitated light. When Sarayu reveals that light as Mack's dead father, he runs to embrace him in joyous forgiveness and reconciliation.
A few chapters later, Mack repeats this "magical" sort of forgiveness for the man who murdered his daughter even though we see no evidence of Mack working to heal his loss or deal with the injustice. Further, the murderer was never identified, caught, or tried for his crime.
Yet, within the space of a short conversation with Papa (God), Mack traveled the emotional distance from his desire for revenge to forgiveness:
Papa to Mack: "...You already know what I want, don't you?" (Kindle version, location 3573)
"Papa," he cried, "how can I ever forgive that son of a bitch who killed my Missy. If he were here today, I don't know what I would do. I know it isn't right, but I want him to hurt like he hurt me...if I can't get justice I still want revenge." (Kindle version - location 3576)
After Papa and Mack engage in a discussion on the power and necessity of forgiveness, Mack says out loud:
"I forgive you. I forgive you . I forgive you." (Kindle version - location 3629)
Then, Mack asks, "So, is it all right if I'm still angry?"
Papa was quick to respond "Absolutely!..." (location 3634)
This sort of inauthentic forgiveness places an unrealistic burden on those who are unable to forgive by "magic." In the words of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, "cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance." Additionally, it cheapens the journey for trauma survivors who have done the hard work to heal and possibly even forgive. (See Forgiveness and Abuse).
While it is true that forgiveness is made manifest by the love and grace of God, forgiveness requires our participation in the process. One of the dangers of encouraging premature forgiveness is that it usually doesn't last; thereby impeding genuine healing and forgiveness. Another danger is using premature forgiveness as a method of avoiding the truth, and feelings, or emotions that are too painful to "examine."
If we follow Christ's example, even Jesus expressed 27 verses of anger in Matthew 23:13-39 before going to the cross. If we hope to permanently forgive, expressing anger is an important part of the process. Additionally, it is interesting to note that Jesus did not utter the words, "I forgive you," Himself, but rather, He asked His Father who remained all powerful to forgive the unrepentant. ("Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do." Luke 23:34)
The true gift of forgiveness is in the spiritual and emotional growth we experience during an authentic healing process. God's power is truly fulfilled when the offender repents, the victim forgives, and both participate in the process. In the absence of repentance, forgiveness is not an obligation on the part of someone who has been harmed, but can take place with adequate healing.
As an abuse survivor, I for one, wouldn't trade the lessons I've learned by creating the space necessary to heal. Lessons about trusting others to validate my pain, anger, and sadness; trusting myself to safe-guard my own well-being; to respond appropriately to betrayal and injustice; to remain present with my feelings; to set boundaries; practice self-care, and take responsibility for my life. Through it all, I have experienced proof of God's love for me. All these "gifts" and more would have been lost with "false," premature, or instantaneous forgiveness, as well as undercut tangible, realistic, long-term solutions for real human suffering.
Forgiveness is not an event of immediacy. It's not a bolt of light that brightens the soul and burns the pain to ashes. Forgiveness is a slow transformational process. Hard earned life-lessons take a great deal of time and grueling work!
God doesn't promise to heal us by "magic," but rather invites us to trust that His Love and Grace will carry us through as we participate in our own healing journey.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
More on Life's Passages - Parenting
I don't think I have experienced a more joyous or frightening passage than moving into the season of parenting. The responsibility of raising children is not to be taken lightly.
Survivorship definitely has an affect on parenting.
A few years ago, a friend of mine confided that when she was young, she made the conscious choice never to have children. She said that she was positive she would damage her children the same way her parents had damaged her. She wanted to spare her unborn kids that agony. Now that she is past her child-bearing years, she has some sadness, but no regret.
I know another survivor who also decided not to have children. Although she loved kids, she didn't want to take the risk of harming them. After she married and became a caring teacher, many people marveled at her gift for nurturing little ones, and they encouraged her to have kids of her own. Still, her fear of parenting held her back. Ten years passed before she had healed enough to re-evaluate her position. She realized that she didn't have to be her mother. She is now thrilled to be the loving mother of two.
I didn't enter motherhood with as much foresight as these women. Young and newly married, I walked blindly into the decision to become a mother with a burning desire to create a new loving family. I sought to provide all the love and affection that goes with a happy childhood, along with the warmth and closeness that makes family life secure and content.
When I held my first-born daughter in my arms, joy soared through me and sang its very own special song of fulfillment and wonder. I looked at my daughter with awe. The baby was so tiny, so innocent and so vulnerable. Fear gripped me as I tried to fathom the vast responsibility, wise guidance and parental protection it would take to raise a healthy, whole human being.
I knew I had to make a conscious decision to learn a healthy method of parenting. I devoured parenting books, took parenting classes, surrounded myself with people whose parenting skills I respected and admired, and drew off of my earlier memories and experiences with my loving father.
Parenting is a lot of hard work. I tried to balance healthy parental guidance while I continued to navigate my own recovery. My daughters certainly illuminated my childhood losses. Each time I celebrated my children's triumphs, I felt the impact of my abuse and of my mother's emotional absence in my childhood and youth. As I celebrated with my girls all the important events and passages in their lives, I simultaneously experienced joy and sorrow. Joy at their milestones, happy to guide, advise and protect; I brimmed with pride and enthusiasm for them.. Then quietly, I mourned for myself.
Witnessing the mother-daughter relationship in others was especially sad. Watching mothers as they share life's passages - passing on love and wisdom to their daughters. This was never so apparent to me as when I witnessed the closeness of most mothers and daughters, where a mother guides her daughter through pregnancy, and shares the joy of childbirth. I mourned what should have been...what could have been...and was not.
Each day I journey further down the path of recovery, I discovered new ways in which my abuse affected my life, my relationships and my parenting.
Walking the fine line between the conscious choice I made not to be my mother and the less conscious choice not to be her polar opposite, kept me on my toes. After my children reached adulthood, I realized that I had leaned closer to "opposite" from my mother and had become overly involved in my children's lives. Fortunately, they were good about letting me know when I needed to "back off," and I did - for the most part.
What I didn't know as I was raising my children, was that just being the children of an abuse survivor would impact them. Although I watched over my children like a mother hen, my children were negatively affected by visits to my family members prior to our estrangement. The estrangement affected them as well. They witnessed me wrestling with my own childhood wounds. I unintentionally modeled for my children certain behaviors and responses in my adult relationships that resulted from my old wiring and abuse, such as reactions born out of PTSD.
Whenever I discover new ways in which my childhood abuse affects/affected my parenting, I tell my children and make a sincere effort to listen to what they have to say - even now in our adult-adult relationships.
I know I haven't done a perfect job; however, the good far outweighs the bad and I am always open to listening to my children.
Although my longing for a close mother/daughter relationship was never realized with my own mother, it is heartwarming to experience a loving mother/daughter relationship with my own children.
I love my children unconditionally and they know it. I did succeed at breaking the cycle of abuse, and I am happy to be the proud matriarch of a new family legacy.
Survivorship definitely has an affect on parenting.
A few years ago, a friend of mine confided that when she was young, she made the conscious choice never to have children. She said that she was positive she would damage her children the same way her parents had damaged her. She wanted to spare her unborn kids that agony. Now that she is past her child-bearing years, she has some sadness, but no regret.
I know another survivor who also decided not to have children. Although she loved kids, she didn't want to take the risk of harming them. After she married and became a caring teacher, many people marveled at her gift for nurturing little ones, and they encouraged her to have kids of her own. Still, her fear of parenting held her back. Ten years passed before she had healed enough to re-evaluate her position. She realized that she didn't have to be her mother. She is now thrilled to be the loving mother of two.
I didn't enter motherhood with as much foresight as these women. Young and newly married, I walked blindly into the decision to become a mother with a burning desire to create a new loving family. I sought to provide all the love and affection that goes with a happy childhood, along with the warmth and closeness that makes family life secure and content.
When I held my first-born daughter in my arms, joy soared through me and sang its very own special song of fulfillment and wonder. I looked at my daughter with awe. The baby was so tiny, so innocent and so vulnerable. Fear gripped me as I tried to fathom the vast responsibility, wise guidance and parental protection it would take to raise a healthy, whole human being.
I knew I had to make a conscious decision to learn a healthy method of parenting. I devoured parenting books, took parenting classes, surrounded myself with people whose parenting skills I respected and admired, and drew off of my earlier memories and experiences with my loving father.
Parenting is a lot of hard work. I tried to balance healthy parental guidance while I continued to navigate my own recovery. My daughters certainly illuminated my childhood losses. Each time I celebrated my children's triumphs, I felt the impact of my abuse and of my mother's emotional absence in my childhood and youth. As I celebrated with my girls all the important events and passages in their lives, I simultaneously experienced joy and sorrow. Joy at their milestones, happy to guide, advise and protect; I brimmed with pride and enthusiasm for them.. Then quietly, I mourned for myself.
Witnessing the mother-daughter relationship in others was especially sad. Watching mothers as they share life's passages - passing on love and wisdom to their daughters. This was never so apparent to me as when I witnessed the closeness of most mothers and daughters, where a mother guides her daughter through pregnancy, and shares the joy of childbirth. I mourned what should have been...what could have been...and was not.
Each day I journey further down the path of recovery, I discovered new ways in which my abuse affected my life, my relationships and my parenting.
Walking the fine line between the conscious choice I made not to be my mother and the less conscious choice not to be her polar opposite, kept me on my toes. After my children reached adulthood, I realized that I had leaned closer to "opposite" from my mother and had become overly involved in my children's lives. Fortunately, they were good about letting me know when I needed to "back off," and I did - for the most part.
What I didn't know as I was raising my children, was that just being the children of an abuse survivor would impact them. Although I watched over my children like a mother hen, my children were negatively affected by visits to my family members prior to our estrangement. The estrangement affected them as well. They witnessed me wrestling with my own childhood wounds. I unintentionally modeled for my children certain behaviors and responses in my adult relationships that resulted from my old wiring and abuse, such as reactions born out of PTSD.
Whenever I discover new ways in which my childhood abuse affects/affected my parenting, I tell my children and make a sincere effort to listen to what they have to say - even now in our adult-adult relationships.
I know I haven't done a perfect job; however, the good far outweighs the bad and I am always open to listening to my children.
Although my longing for a close mother/daughter relationship was never realized with my own mother, it is heartwarming to experience a loving mother/daughter relationship with my own children.
I love my children unconditionally and they know it. I did succeed at breaking the cycle of abuse, and I am happy to be the proud matriarch of a new family legacy.
Friday, May 29, 2009
The Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse
Marj, our carnival founder is hosting the May Edition of The Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse at Survivors Can Thrive! The theme for this month's edition is:
Remembering "Veteran" Survivors
Please support the community by checking out the amazing array of posts in this months edition.
Remembering "Veteran" Survivors
Please support the community by checking out the amazing array of posts in this months edition.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Guest Blogger
Michele Rosenthal of PARASITES OF THE MIND offers what is arguably the most comprehensive PTSD Blog on the web. She provides many informative posts, along with a wide range of PTSD Resources, a free Healing Workshop, and a weekly feature called, Survivors Speak.
I am honored that Michele invited me to be her guest blogger this week.
Thank you Michele!
My guest post on Survivors Speak is available here.
Thanks!
Nancy
UPDATE: You can view Michele's follow-up post here.
I am honored that Michele invited me to be her guest blogger this week.
Thank you Michele!
My guest post on Survivors Speak is available here.
Thanks!
Nancy
UPDATE: You can view Michele's follow-up post here.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Remembering to Mourn
I've always had difficulty with mourning.
Often, when I find myself entering a new phase of healing, such as with my current life transition, I take note of the healing foundation I've already developed. I use my old ground work as a blueprint to guide me and a base on which to build from there.
It has taken a great deal of hard work to re-wire my brain, heart, and psyche in order to rid myself of my PTSD, dissociation and to change the old unhealthy internal messages, feelings and responses with new healthy internal messages feelings and responses. Although I am relieved that my abuse no longer feels present, I know that some of the effects of my abuse will linger for the rest of my life. I am after all, the culmination of all my experiences both good and bad, healed and unhealed.
In times of stress, it sometimes feels natural to go on "auto-pilot" and to fall back on old wiring and survival instincts, rather than remembering to "stay awake at the wheel" and to use my new tools. Of all the healing lessons I've learned - such as validating my pain, exercising self-care, expressing my feelings, and releasing my anger - mourning has always been the most difficult for me. Being able to mourn entails "remembering" to do what is unnatural for me; to remain "present" with my feelings (see What? I Can Feel This?).
After spending a few weeks carrying around unresolved sadness, I've been searching my healing toolbox to help me mourn the losses I'm currently feeling.
I've heard a number of times over the years about a technique that entails giving ourselves 5 minutes each day to mourn, and then to "drop it" and go about our day. I always thought that was a ridiculous notion. How can we mourn huge losses in just five minutes during a day?
For many years, I looked at this exercise as a "limiting," "get over it" sort of suggestion. That is - until I tried it and it worked! The difference is that when I tried it, I approached this exercise from a another perspective. I didn't look at it as only allowing myself 5 minutes a day, and then "dropping it," but rather committing myself to at least five minutes a day of "dedicated" mourning.
In other words, rather than carrying un-mourned sadness around with me all day, I sat down, and dedicated myself to mourning. I was amazed at how much this dedicated mourning helped to release my sadness and then I didn't carry it around all day.
Since I have difficulty mourning, I need rituals to help me mourn. The most helpful exercise for me is to tell myself, "It's time to mourn." I go into a quite room and choose music that lends itself to "touching" my sadness. Then I hold out my hand - palm up, close my eyes, and picture my heart gently cradling my loss in the palm of my hand (person, place, thing). I let the music and my feelings guide me as I cry, mourn, and honor this loss.......
Often, when I find myself entering a new phase of healing, such as with my current life transition, I take note of the healing foundation I've already developed. I use my old ground work as a blueprint to guide me and a base on which to build from there.
It has taken a great deal of hard work to re-wire my brain, heart, and psyche in order to rid myself of my PTSD, dissociation and to change the old unhealthy internal messages, feelings and responses with new healthy internal messages feelings and responses. Although I am relieved that my abuse no longer feels present, I know that some of the effects of my abuse will linger for the rest of my life. I am after all, the culmination of all my experiences both good and bad, healed and unhealed.
In times of stress, it sometimes feels natural to go on "auto-pilot" and to fall back on old wiring and survival instincts, rather than remembering to "stay awake at the wheel" and to use my new tools. Of all the healing lessons I've learned - such as validating my pain, exercising self-care, expressing my feelings, and releasing my anger - mourning has always been the most difficult for me. Being able to mourn entails "remembering" to do what is unnatural for me; to remain "present" with my feelings (see What? I Can Feel This?).
After spending a few weeks carrying around unresolved sadness, I've been searching my healing toolbox to help me mourn the losses I'm currently feeling.
I've heard a number of times over the years about a technique that entails giving ourselves 5 minutes each day to mourn, and then to "drop it" and go about our day. I always thought that was a ridiculous notion. How can we mourn huge losses in just five minutes during a day?
For many years, I looked at this exercise as a "limiting," "get over it" sort of suggestion. That is - until I tried it and it worked! The difference is that when I tried it, I approached this exercise from a another perspective. I didn't look at it as only allowing myself 5 minutes a day, and then "dropping it," but rather committing myself to at least five minutes a day of "dedicated" mourning.
In other words, rather than carrying un-mourned sadness around with me all day, I sat down, and dedicated myself to mourning. I was amazed at how much this dedicated mourning helped to release my sadness and then I didn't carry it around all day.
Since I have difficulty mourning, I need rituals to help me mourn. The most helpful exercise for me is to tell myself, "It's time to mourn." I go into a quite room and choose music that lends itself to "touching" my sadness. Then I hold out my hand - palm up, close my eyes, and picture my heart gently cradling my loss in the palm of my hand (person, place, thing). I let the music and my feelings guide me as I cry, mourn, and honor this loss.......
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Letting Go...and...The Passages of Our Lives
I've always had a hard time letting go; letting go of my denial, self-blame, the old damaging voices in my head, my fears, my family, old roles, etc.....Yet, each time I have "let go" my life became better.
My old therapist once told me that I would be "recovering" for the rest of my life. I didn't believe him. At least I didn't want too. For decades, I have been healing at a deeper and deeper level; peeling away layers and becoming more whole. As I've peeled away each layer, I've rejoiced and said, "Yay! I'm in a great place! I'm done!"
By the time I reconciled with my family, I certainly thought I was "done" healing. The evidence was good. I no longer felt "triggered" by past events, and my abuse is more of a distant memory than a "present" reality. I'm able to view life through a "new lens" and the past no longer colors my day to day life.
Yet, here I am, once again finding myself struggling with "letting go," of something old. I think I finally figured out what my therapist meant nearly twenty years ago by "recovering for the rest of my life." It doesn't mean what I thought he meant. It doesn't mean I'll have nightmares about my abuse, or suffer from flash-backs, PTSD, or dissociation for the rest of my life. I don't. But what I think it does mean is that my childhood abuse will "have an affect" on the passages of my life.
As I pass through each season of life, I see where my childhood construction has been an important element to consider. We experience many seasons in our lives; the transition into adulthood; the season of parenting children; our professional years; the passage into the "empty nest" years; our season of retirement; the twilight years, etc.
At fifty-one, I'm trying to find a new rhythm in my life. It is time to shed the hectic, frenzied schedule I have kept since I was a child. Nonetheless, once again, I find that I am having a hard time letting go of something that no longer works for me. It is important for me to realize how I "got here" in order to get somewhere else.
As a child, no one took care of me. So, I took care of every one and every thing - except myself. Without realizing it, I've followed this pattern through every passage and every area of my life. Between work, home, and family, I have taken on sole responsibility for too much. It's time to "let go."
This doesn't mean an "all or nothing" sort of thing or simply "dropping" certain responsibilities. This means doing the hard emotional work to re-organize my life in a manner that everything still gets done - but not by me.
There is great value in examining the past. It can offer insight into where I am in the present and aid in forging new growth and making changes for a better future.
I'm on the healing road again......
My old therapist once told me that I would be "recovering" for the rest of my life. I didn't believe him. At least I didn't want too. For decades, I have been healing at a deeper and deeper level; peeling away layers and becoming more whole. As I've peeled away each layer, I've rejoiced and said, "Yay! I'm in a great place! I'm done!"
By the time I reconciled with my family, I certainly thought I was "done" healing. The evidence was good. I no longer felt "triggered" by past events, and my abuse is more of a distant memory than a "present" reality. I'm able to view life through a "new lens" and the past no longer colors my day to day life.
Yet, here I am, once again finding myself struggling with "letting go," of something old. I think I finally figured out what my therapist meant nearly twenty years ago by "recovering for the rest of my life." It doesn't mean what I thought he meant. It doesn't mean I'll have nightmares about my abuse, or suffer from flash-backs, PTSD, or dissociation for the rest of my life. I don't. But what I think it does mean is that my childhood abuse will "have an affect" on the passages of my life.
As I pass through each season of life, I see where my childhood construction has been an important element to consider. We experience many seasons in our lives; the transition into adulthood; the season of parenting children; our professional years; the passage into the "empty nest" years; our season of retirement; the twilight years, etc.
At fifty-one, I'm trying to find a new rhythm in my life. It is time to shed the hectic, frenzied schedule I have kept since I was a child. Nonetheless, once again, I find that I am having a hard time letting go of something that no longer works for me. It is important for me to realize how I "got here" in order to get somewhere else.
As a child, no one took care of me. So, I took care of every one and every thing - except myself. Without realizing it, I've followed this pattern through every passage and every area of my life. Between work, home, and family, I have taken on sole responsibility for too much. It's time to "let go."
This doesn't mean an "all or nothing" sort of thing or simply "dropping" certain responsibilities. This means doing the hard emotional work to re-organize my life in a manner that everything still gets done - but not by me.
There is great value in examining the past. It can offer insight into where I am in the present and aid in forging new growth and making changes for a better future.
I'm on the healing road again......
Saturday, April 25, 2009
The Stages of Blame...
...for me at least:
1) Self-Blame
2) Blaming the Perpetrator
3) Reclaiming and Taking Responsibility for my life - Moving from Victim to Survivor
1) Self- Blame: For me, stage one lasted the longest; more than twenty years. Sometimes, I still mourn for the little girl who felt suffocated under the load of blame and shame; hopelessness and betrayal.
Ever since childhood, I internalized my mothers blame, denial and the minimization of my abuse. Other family members and bystanders contributed to my feelings of shame as well. Sometimes, self-blame manifested itself by my arguing to be heard and defensiveness. Finally, during a therapy session at the age of 35, I pondered how I would react if someone threw one of my children down a flight of cement stairs. The thought of anyone hurting one of my kids horrified me. Although it was difficult, I turned the corner from internalizing blame to accepting my mothers responsibility for my abuse.
2) Blaming the Perpetrator: This stage also lasted a long time; approximately ten years. I placed the responsibility for my childhood abuse squarely where it belonged - on my abusers.
This ten year period was a time of huge growth for me. I was freed from my denial and had the opportunity to really examine my abuse and the effect it had on my life. I expressed my anger, I mourned my losses and learned to love the little girl of long ago.
3) Reclaiming and Taking Responsibility for my life - Moving from Victim to Survivor:
Self-blame was an unfortunate by-product of abuse. Blaming the abuser was an important and necessary shift in the recovery process. Armed with the reality of the facts, I was able to set a healing foundation to safeguard my own well being. At that point in my recovery- how my psyche became damaged, wasn't as important to me as how I was going to move forward to the life I deserved. I realized that the only one who could take responsibility for my life was me!
Moving past the blame was a huge relief for me. It gave me control over my own life and felt very empowering. This doesn't mean that I have erased from my mind that my abusers are responsible for my abuse. On the contrary. It means that no longer "obsess" about the blame, but rather take responsible for my life today!
I went through a similar process with my family estrangement: Self-blame and defensiveness; blaming my family; and then taking responsibility for my own life.
What a relief. My family no longer has control over my life!
1) Self-Blame
2) Blaming the Perpetrator
3) Reclaiming and Taking Responsibility for my life - Moving from Victim to Survivor
1) Self- Blame: For me, stage one lasted the longest; more than twenty years. Sometimes, I still mourn for the little girl who felt suffocated under the load of blame and shame; hopelessness and betrayal.
Ever since childhood, I internalized my mothers blame, denial and the minimization of my abuse. Other family members and bystanders contributed to my feelings of shame as well. Sometimes, self-blame manifested itself by my arguing to be heard and defensiveness. Finally, during a therapy session at the age of 35, I pondered how I would react if someone threw one of my children down a flight of cement stairs. The thought of anyone hurting one of my kids horrified me. Although it was difficult, I turned the corner from internalizing blame to accepting my mothers responsibility for my abuse.
2) Blaming the Perpetrator: This stage also lasted a long time; approximately ten years. I placed the responsibility for my childhood abuse squarely where it belonged - on my abusers.
This ten year period was a time of huge growth for me. I was freed from my denial and had the opportunity to really examine my abuse and the effect it had on my life. I expressed my anger, I mourned my losses and learned to love the little girl of long ago.
3) Reclaiming and Taking Responsibility for my life - Moving from Victim to Survivor:
Self-blame was an unfortunate by-product of abuse. Blaming the abuser was an important and necessary shift in the recovery process. Armed with the reality of the facts, I was able to set a healing foundation to safeguard my own well being. At that point in my recovery- how my psyche became damaged, wasn't as important to me as how I was going to move forward to the life I deserved. I realized that the only one who could take responsibility for my life was me!
Moving past the blame was a huge relief for me. It gave me control over my own life and felt very empowering. This doesn't mean that I have erased from my mind that my abusers are responsible for my abuse. On the contrary. It means that no longer "obsess" about the blame, but rather take responsible for my life today!
I went through a similar process with my family estrangement: Self-blame and defensiveness; blaming my family; and then taking responsibility for my own life.
What a relief. My family no longer has control over my life!
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Why Isn't it Okay to Be Angry?
Most everyone says it is good to express our feelings; happy, glad, sad, fear, affection, guilt, shame, grief, courage, respect, hope...and then there is the dreaded - anger!
Lately, many people have said to me, "Why does everyone tell me that I shouldn't be angry? That makes me even angrier!"
Since so many people have talked to me recently about their struggles with anger, I thought I would re-post one of the very first posts I wrote when I began blogging.
Dealing with Anger
Anger corrodes... Forgive and forget... Negativity is harmful to your health... These often-heard statements usually instill a sense of urgency that implies that we should "get over it" immediately.
For many years, I was so frightened to admit that I was angry that I tried to pretend I was not.
I continued to allow my abuse while I worked at suppressing my anger. Eventually, I felt little else but simmering resentment. Without receiving validation that I had a right to my feelings, my anger remained stuffed inside and unresolved.
Anger has its place. It took me a long time to realize that I needed to embrace my anger. Not forever, but long enough to respect a healthy sort of rage over what had happened to me. My anger provided a tool for protecting myself from further harm, and a springboard from which to heal.
Although my mom abused and betrayed me, I felt very conflicted about her. She hurt me deeply, and nevertheless I loved my mother. I loved her and I was angry with her.
People are often uncomfortable with anger and therefore advise us that it isn't good to be angry. Their well-meaning advice proved to be a great disservice to me.
It wasn't until I did receive validation from other people that I found appropriate ways to discharge my rage, protect myself, and move past my anger. I gave myself permission to be constructively angry - to use my irritation as an aid in moving forward - until the hurt no longer felt present. It is important to honor the depth of our injuries as a way of moving past the pain.
Finding methods to diffuse my resentment wasn't easy. Solitary anger exercises were not effective for me. I tried techniques such as writing an angry letter and ceremoniously burning it. Still my anger remained.
Expressing my anger in the company of trusted confidantes was very helpful. Dark humor like "bad mother" jokes helps for me as well. Participating with friends in interactive exercises gave me the sense of not being alone, and validated that I had a right to my anger. I am certain that what makes seemingly unbearable pain bearable, is the ability of another to hold our pain. They held my pain and helped me move past my rage.
There is an important distinction between - a) perpetuating anger by raging at the individuals who harmed us, and - b) discharging anger in safe environments apart from the individuals who caused the harm.
Bringing my injuries "into the light" and acknowledging my anger in the safety of supportive individuals brought me emotional freedom, and a measure of peace.
Lately, many people have said to me, "Why does everyone tell me that I shouldn't be angry? That makes me even angrier!"
Since so many people have talked to me recently about their struggles with anger, I thought I would re-post one of the very first posts I wrote when I began blogging.
Dealing with Anger
Anger corrodes... Forgive and forget... Negativity is harmful to your health... These often-heard statements usually instill a sense of urgency that implies that we should "get over it" immediately.
For many years, I was so frightened to admit that I was angry that I tried to pretend I was not.
I continued to allow my abuse while I worked at suppressing my anger. Eventually, I felt little else but simmering resentment. Without receiving validation that I had a right to my feelings, my anger remained stuffed inside and unresolved.
Anger has its place. It took me a long time to realize that I needed to embrace my anger. Not forever, but long enough to respect a healthy sort of rage over what had happened to me. My anger provided a tool for protecting myself from further harm, and a springboard from which to heal.
Although my mom abused and betrayed me, I felt very conflicted about her. She hurt me deeply, and nevertheless I loved my mother. I loved her and I was angry with her.
People are often uncomfortable with anger and therefore advise us that it isn't good to be angry. Their well-meaning advice proved to be a great disservice to me.
It wasn't until I did receive validation from other people that I found appropriate ways to discharge my rage, protect myself, and move past my anger. I gave myself permission to be constructively angry - to use my irritation as an aid in moving forward - until the hurt no longer felt present. It is important to honor the depth of our injuries as a way of moving past the pain.
Finding methods to diffuse my resentment wasn't easy. Solitary anger exercises were not effective for me. I tried techniques such as writing an angry letter and ceremoniously burning it. Still my anger remained.
Expressing my anger in the company of trusted confidantes was very helpful. Dark humor like "bad mother" jokes helps for me as well. Participating with friends in interactive exercises gave me the sense of not being alone, and validated that I had a right to my anger. I am certain that what makes seemingly unbearable pain bearable, is the ability of another to hold our pain. They held my pain and helped me move past my rage.
There is an important distinction between - a) perpetuating anger by raging at the individuals who harmed us, and - b) discharging anger in safe environments apart from the individuals who caused the harm.
Bringing my injuries "into the light" and acknowledging my anger in the safety of supportive individuals brought me emotional freedom, and a measure of peace.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Love Ya Award
Thank you to Colleen at Surviving by Grace for giving me The LOVE YA award: “These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award." If you've won it already, and I know a few of you have, even more than once! - please just accept this as a gift!
Thanks to the following for blessing us with your openness in sharing your journey:
1. Tamara at Desire to Heal who shares an unquenchable and successful desire to heal herself and support others survivors.
2. Michelle at Parasites of the Mind who is not only an amazingly supportive blogger - she is the "go to gal" for everything PTSD.
3. Marj at Survivors Can Thrive - to me, Marj is the heart and soul of the survivor blogging community, tying us all together.
4. Just Be Real who makes sure every blogger knows they are not alone!
5. Patricia at Spiritual Journey of a Lightworker who sheds a hopeful, spiritual light on recovery.
6. Mile191 - at Come into my Closet - who shares her riveting voice and "soaks up" her recovery within a wide community of survivors.
7. Faith Allen of Blooming Lotus - for her heart-felt vulnerability within a wide range of topics that question, inform and investigate all aspects of recovery.
8. Enola who gives us a clear window into suvivorship by beautifully sharing so many aspects of her life.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Finding a Therapist
Finding a therapist can be a frighting undertaking for adult survivors of childhood abuse.
Someone recently asked me how I found good therapists:
After a couple of bad therapeutic experiences, I learned that it was essential for me to find a therapist who specialized in recovery from severe childhood abuse/trauma.
But how?
I've used three avenues to find a professional specializing in abuse recovery:
1) Community referral - My aunt is a therapist (non trauma issues). She has been a good source to find "highly recommended" trauma recovery therapists where I live. If you know of a therapist with an excellent reputation in another area of analysis (or know someone else who does) ask if they can refer you to someone well known in the field of trauma recovery.
I have given referrals to other survivors in my area for therapists who have been helpful to me. If you know other survivors in your area, this would be a good resource.
2) Local University Psychology Department/Hospital Trauma Department referrals.
This is another successful avenue I have used.
3) Insurance Company Referrals. If you have medical insurance with "mental health" coverage, they may be able to recommend a professional who deals with trauma recovery.
Next: The Interview
I ask a list of questions pertinent to me:
1) What is your background and education?
2) What types of clients to you see?
3) Describe how you see the therapeutic relationship?
4? What are the recovery principles you adhere to and methods you use and why?
5) Are you comfortable with strong emotions, i.e..denial, anger, terror, etc...
6) How would you solve a situation if one of your own personal issues clouded your objectivity with mine?
I ask this question because once, during therapy, I told my therapist that I thought he'd lost his objectivity. He said, "You're right. We are in an area where my personal issues have clouded my judgment and frankly, I don't think I can get it back."
While I was grateful for his honesty, I was sad that I had to find another therapist. I was also afraid that if I invested a great deal of time and energy in a new therapist, I could have to start all over again from scratch.
My new counselor told me that it is not uncommon for a therapist's issues to become "tangled" up with a client during the therapeutic process - especially as we delve very deep. Therapy is an emotional journey and they are only human.
He did say however, that when this happens, it is a wonderful opportunity for the therapist to do "their own work." This could mean, one of many things:
In any case, I want to know "up front" how the therapist would handle this sort of situation. To say it couldn't happen would be a red flag for me.
Next: Establishing the Relationship
1) Trust - this is a huge issue for survivors. As I said, after a couple of bad therapeutic experiences and a lifetime of family abuse and betrayal, trust was a big issue for me. When I met with my first "abuse recovery therapist," I flat out told him, "I don't trust!" He said, "That's okay, we'll build trust!" He was right.
2) As we get to know one another, I ask myself, "Am I comfortable with this person?"
3) I'm looking for someone who listens well, asks questions, suggests exercises, and offers examples of psychological theory to consider, rather than giving answers or telling me what I should do.
4) Validation. To me, a good therapist can validate my feelings, "bear witness" to my trauma, and ask thought provoking questions that invite growth.
5) A good therapist provides a safe environment to discharge anger and other strong emotions.
6) A good therapist provides a safe environment for me to talk about my experiences without fear of blame or judgment. Nor will he/she try to "rescue" me from my pain - but allow me to be "present" with my feelings in order to learn to deal with them.
7) A good therapist has good personal boundaries.
Someone recently asked me how I found good therapists:
After a couple of bad therapeutic experiences, I learned that it was essential for me to find a therapist who specialized in recovery from severe childhood abuse/trauma.
But how?
I've used three avenues to find a professional specializing in abuse recovery:
1) Community referral - My aunt is a therapist (non trauma issues). She has been a good source to find "highly recommended" trauma recovery therapists where I live. If you know of a therapist with an excellent reputation in another area of analysis (or know someone else who does) ask if they can refer you to someone well known in the field of trauma recovery.
I have given referrals to other survivors in my area for therapists who have been helpful to me. If you know other survivors in your area, this would be a good resource.
2) Local University Psychology Department/Hospital Trauma Department referrals.
This is another successful avenue I have used.
3) Insurance Company Referrals. If you have medical insurance with "mental health" coverage, they may be able to recommend a professional who deals with trauma recovery.
Next: The Interview
I ask a list of questions pertinent to me:
1) What is your background and education?
2) What types of clients to you see?
3) Describe how you see the therapeutic relationship?
4? What are the recovery principles you adhere to and methods you use and why?
5) Are you comfortable with strong emotions, i.e..denial, anger, terror, etc...
6) How would you solve a situation if one of your own personal issues clouded your objectivity with mine?
I ask this question because once, during therapy, I told my therapist that I thought he'd lost his objectivity. He said, "You're right. We are in an area where my personal issues have clouded my judgment and frankly, I don't think I can get it back."
While I was grateful for his honesty, I was sad that I had to find another therapist. I was also afraid that if I invested a great deal of time and energy in a new therapist, I could have to start all over again from scratch.
My new counselor told me that it is not uncommon for a therapist's issues to become "tangled" up with a client during the therapeutic process - especially as we delve very deep. Therapy is an emotional journey and they are only human.
He did say however, that when this happens, it is a wonderful opportunity for the therapist to do "their own work." This could mean, one of many things:
- The therapist didn't know he or she was "reacting" from his or her own issues until the client pointed out that something was "amiss" and is then able to make a quick adjustment.
- The therapist could have an open discussion with the client and "own" their stuff.
- The therapist may feel this issue is substantial enough to seek individual help (apart from the client) from another therapist.
- Or even have a third-party therapist help "untangle" the issue between the therapist and the client (if this is a longstanding relationship that "hit a bump."
In any case, I want to know "up front" how the therapist would handle this sort of situation. To say it couldn't happen would be a red flag for me.
Next: Establishing the Relationship
1) Trust - this is a huge issue for survivors. As I said, after a couple of bad therapeutic experiences and a lifetime of family abuse and betrayal, trust was a big issue for me. When I met with my first "abuse recovery therapist," I flat out told him, "I don't trust!" He said, "That's okay, we'll build trust!" He was right.
2) As we get to know one another, I ask myself, "Am I comfortable with this person?"
3) I'm looking for someone who listens well, asks questions, suggests exercises, and offers examples of psychological theory to consider, rather than giving answers or telling me what I should do.
4) Validation. To me, a good therapist can validate my feelings, "bear witness" to my trauma, and ask thought provoking questions that invite growth.
5) A good therapist provides a safe environment to discharge anger and other strong emotions.
6) A good therapist provides a safe environment for me to talk about my experiences without fear of blame or judgment. Nor will he/she try to "rescue" me from my pain - but allow me to be "present" with my feelings in order to learn to deal with them.
7) A good therapist has good personal boundaries.
Friday, April 17, 2009
The April Edition of The Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse
is up at childabusesurvivor. Mike is hosting a huge edition this month with a wide array of inspiring topics!
Check it out!
Check it out!
Friday, April 3, 2009
Sometimes, We Must Die to the Old to be Born to the New
My minister once told me that we experience many "resurrections" in our lives as we "die to the old" and are "born to the new."
She told me this as I was facing a devastating loss. Standing on the threshold between the known and the unknown was frightening, even though I knew that the known was harmful to me.
I died to the old when I became estranged from my entire family of origin. That death brought on the birth of my new "family of choice." I experienced growing pains with my new family as it began in its infancy, toddled on through adolescence, and eventually arrived fully grown.
It was hard to give up on my dream of a healthy, abuse-free, family of origin, but self-preservation prevailed. I chose survival. After years of rebuilding my life, I realized that my new "family" was more supportive, loving, nurturing and fulfilling than any of my prior dreams or experiences.
Fourteen years later, I died to the old when I became open to new realities - even when they contradicted the past - and the reconciliation with my family of origin was born.
I've experienced many such deaths and births on my journey from abuse and estrangement to surviving and thriving. Each "death" was frightening. It required taking a leap of faith into the unknown, hard work, loss, pain, healing, learning, growing, and stretching:
With growth comes loss, but eventually, healing and freedom. Birthing is always difficult, but well worth the reward.
She told me this as I was facing a devastating loss. Standing on the threshold between the known and the unknown was frightening, even though I knew that the known was harmful to me.
I died to the old when I became estranged from my entire family of origin. That death brought on the birth of my new "family of choice." I experienced growing pains with my new family as it began in its infancy, toddled on through adolescence, and eventually arrived fully grown.
It was hard to give up on my dream of a healthy, abuse-free, family of origin, but self-preservation prevailed. I chose survival. After years of rebuilding my life, I realized that my new "family" was more supportive, loving, nurturing and fulfilling than any of my prior dreams or experiences.
Fourteen years later, I died to the old when I became open to new realities - even when they contradicted the past - and the reconciliation with my family of origin was born.
I've experienced many such deaths and births on my journey from abuse and estrangement to surviving and thriving. Each "death" was frightening. It required taking a leap of faith into the unknown, hard work, loss, pain, healing, learning, growing, and stretching:
- The death of denial - the birth of awareness.
- The death of keeping the family secret - the birth of "Standing in the Truth."
- The death of isolation - the birth of validation.
- The death of violation - the birth of boundaries.
- The death of accepting mistreatment - the birth of self- love and safe-guarding my own well-being.
- The death of accepting betrayal - the birth of self-respect.
- The death of arguing, defending, and engaging - the birth of confidence.
- The death of looking outward to have my needs met - the birth of looking inward to satisfy my own needs.
- The death of brokenness - the birth of healing.
With growth comes loss, but eventually, healing and freedom. Birthing is always difficult, but well worth the reward.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Progress vs. Pain Free
When it comes to healing from childhood abuse and/or family estrangement, it was hard for me to recognize my progress, especially when I was still in pain.
Sometimes, I'd feel triggered by a certain event and I'd despair, "Will I ever heal? Will I always be in pain?" It didn't dawn on me that I viewed healing as all or nothing. As long as I experienced any pain I failed to notice my progress.
Many years ago, after a period of hopelessness, I realized that I was indeed making progress. I could measure my progress in terms of years. Where am I compared to fifteen years ago?...Five years ago?...and one year ago? The answer, of course, was: "In a much better place."
I could see that each time I "hit" a patch of pain, I was healing at a deeper level. Sometimes, my feelings may have been the same, but I was not the same!
When I began to focus on my progress vs. being pain free, it restored my energy and gave me renewed hope!
Sometimes, I'd feel triggered by a certain event and I'd despair, "Will I ever heal? Will I always be in pain?" It didn't dawn on me that I viewed healing as all or nothing. As long as I experienced any pain I failed to notice my progress.
Many years ago, after a period of hopelessness, I realized that I was indeed making progress. I could measure my progress in terms of years. Where am I compared to fifteen years ago?...Five years ago?...and one year ago? The answer, of course, was: "In a much better place."
I could see that each time I "hit" a patch of pain, I was healing at a deeper level. Sometimes, my feelings may have been the same, but I was not the same!
When I began to focus on my progress vs. being pain free, it restored my energy and gave me renewed hope!
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