The Journey Inward

For the month of June, I am flipping through Clarity and Connection, by Yung Pueblo daily and randomly stopping at a page and reading. I am using the entry to delve into my thoughts and feelings, find what resonates, and see what answers it might hold for me. It is an exercise in building my Intuition, making space for creativity, and journeying inward so that I might know myself and others better. Today’s reading was on page 11.

 "after the trauma 
i shifted into survival mode 
unknowingly, i shielded my being with numbness" 

I know this place.  I have experienced significant trauma in my life several times, the first at the age of 13.  My response was immediately turning to survival mode, which encompassed several rapid fire actions.  The first was trying to convince myself that nothing bad had just happened.  I misread the situation.  I didn't understand the intent.  Foolishly, I sought out my perpetrator, hopeful that I could replace that ending with a happier one.  This was not to be.  My mind simply could not comprehend the cold, callous truth and so I numbed my pain.  Not with a substance or by disassociating, but by moving away from it as quickly as I could, putting distance between it and me. Next, I told no one what happened and when a variation of the story got out there, I denied it all.  Every last bit.  Even to my closest friends I lied.  From there, it became damage control and spin.  I couldn't let my parents find out because there was no doubt in my mind that this was my fault.  I knew how disappointed they would be in me, so I went to great lengths to seem fine, normal, show them there was "nothing to see here."  Finally, I recreated myself.  New friends, new way of dressing, staying closer to home.  This was my survival mode.  I wouldn't think of what I had been through, what it felt like, who I became, for another three and half decades.   

"unknowingly, i fell into a cycle of craving 
craving safety 
craving nourishment 
craving no more pain" 

My childhood experiences left a sense of deep craving within me.  A craving for safety and safe people.  Those who could provide me with dependability, reliability, consistency.  Those who posed no threat to me.  I craved the nourishment of unconditional love.  People who I could tell my truths to and they wouldn't be shocked or disappointed in me, wouldn't reject or abandon me.  I craved peace and ease, but knew it wasn't mine to have.  I knew I could and would never feel that.  I looked outward to others to give me what had been ripped and stolen from me.  I looked for my innocence, for trust. 

"and finally say "enough" to 
a constant state of defense 

I could not begin this work until I could release myself from blame, shame and responsibility.  I could not do this until I could finally, FINALLY understand that I had not caused my trauma.  I had not asked for it.  I had not invited it.  There was nothing I said, nothing I did, to deserve what I received.  In my therapist's office, she asked for my homework assignment, my letter to my 13 year old self, forgiving her.  I told her I hadn't been able to write it because I couldn't forgive her.  It was her fault.  She talked me through the particulars of exactly WHY it wasn't MY FAULT that a person chose to act as he did.  Why he chose to take his dysfunction out on me.  That this rested entirely on him.  The release I felt was immense.  

I went on to write that letter and to begin to forgive that scared, naive little girl who had no clue what was happening to her.  I comforted her as she finally acknowledged and accepted that something terrible had happened.  To her.  She had pushed it aside to protect everyone around her, never dealing with the pain.  I praised her for her strength in dealing with this all by herself.  She was silent and kept his secret because she feared no one would believe or love her. She shouldered this burden entirely on her own because she felt she had to.  She was a good student, played three sports, played two instruments, saw her friends, volunteered, and continued moving forward.  She wanted so desperately to be rescued from her pain, but no one was coming.  Until now.  Forty one years later, she has been rescued.  By none other than her grown self, who respects and admires that girl, who comforts and consoles her, who is there for her to lean on.  She doesn't have to be so grown up anymore.  She is free to have sleepovers, sunbathe on her roof, make pizza bagels in the toaster oven, dance to Madonna and Duran Duran and run like the wind.  She is free.

Photo:  Charlotte, NC.  5.27.23 by JMR