When I broke and subsequently began therapy little did I know the journey it would take me Almost. Fifteen. Years. to get to this point where I can say I am ok I think…. I can do this myself
The day I remember breaking was Friday 28th 2011 I was actually, very probably, breaking for a long long time prior to this But it was the pivotal date The ‘mouse who sank the boat’ point I googled that date today it returned with the “Friday of Anger,” How appropriate So many years of bottled anger exploded that day
The actual historical events, The traumas I have experienced Are not the actual stumbling blocks anymore Yes they happened And I survived them But it is the imprints left by those events on my mind, body, and brain It is those imprints that I deal with Every moment of every day
It is the recognition of those imprints that I have been learning about that I have been working with that I have been healing from
Imprints of trauma are reactions that kick you out of the blue when you are least expecting them Your body holds trauma memory and that body memory is what creates the reactions
Learning to control those reactions is difficult but not impossible From processing them comes understanding and from the understanding comes more processing and after many cycles of the above comes healing
There are so many therapies out there and none are a blueprint to fix all You have to walk a journey, an exploration to find out what works for you what helps reeducate your brain, your body and your mind
Personally I have avoided the drug realm they are not for me I have tried many other psychotherapies some are effectual others are not so much and others are absolutely not me
Where am I at now? after nearly 15 years….
I am not healed I am still healing I continue avoidance but it is a choice now not a negative reaction I set boundaries not so much out of fear now but as healthy protection
I can acknowledge the shadows But I don’t focus on them
I can see the joy in moments I’ve stopped searching darknesses
I can focus on cars on the highway and I try not to see impending doom This has been my hardest trauma reaction to heal but I am progressing…
I try not to fixate on rain clouds They disappear in moments The sun is always behind them I just have to remember to let it shine
“We have learned that trauma is not just an event that took place sometime in the past; it is also the imprint left by that experience on mind, brain, and body. This imprint has ongoing consequences for how the human organism manages to survive in the present. Trauma results in a fundamental reorganization of the way mind and brain manage perceptions. It changes not only how we think and what we think about, but also our very capacity to think.” ― Bessel A. van der Kolk, The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma
I have spent many years trying to find myself I was buried hidden under such a burden of damagedness
I see my little granddaughter now running free laughing climbing singing with such wonderful gay abandon and I have vague pictorial flashes of memory of the little wild child I was before….
For years I have wondered how I managed to survive the pain and torment of lies and secrecies the destruction of family to keep going to keep living when so many others couldn’t
This morning I woke with this word Resilience
A word I’ve heard many times but gave no thought or mind to cuz it had nothing to do with me did it?
Certainly not a word that was ever given to me I’ve had others thrown my way others which have stuck and caused deep woundings Bossy Super Mum Victim Liar to name but a few
I am a confessed logophile my children will vouch for that even if they don’t understand that particular word 🙂 I needed to find answers so I went searching and in that searching I found some truths
What depletes resilience? overwork chronic stress exhaustion neglecting self care negative self-talk unhealthy coping mechanisms managing difficult people lack of social support withstanding personal criticism isolation substance abuse
Yes, that was me maybe that still is me to an extent But I have not spent the past 14 years in therapy working my arse off trying to recover trying to heal trying to live without making inroads and instead of ticking those boxes I am crossing them off the list
Instead I can now tick other boxes like these… A resilient person perseveres in the toughest times A resilient person finds strength within themself A resilient person supports others instead of bringing them down A resilient person can withstand and recover from difficult conditions A resilient person can bounce back from setbacks A resilient person can draw on their inner strength to navigate challenges A resilient person can maintain wellbeing A resilient person is aware of their emotional reactions A resilient person is comfortable in who they are
Why has it taken over 5 decades for me to get to this point? Because I was so buried in the trauma I used every ounce of of all I was just to survive It wasn’t until I got to a point of breaking of being so broken and someone recognising my brokenness for what it was and encouraged me to seek help and I did and I have persevered for years
But being resilient doesn’t mean I don’t get hurt It just means I have gained the emotional maturity to know how to express myself to the ones I can trust to the ones who have chosen to support me I know how to deal with that hurt and how to place it where it belongs the sting of it still stings and the tears are still real but I can now embrace the hurt let the tears fall and confess my feelings and move on leaving it at the feet of those it belongs to and not mine
Three years ago I chose to end some extremely traumatic years by having a tattoo placed visibly for my own reminder a reminder that this was the end
Today looking at it with fresh eyes I am understanding fully the symbolism of my choice and it fills me with hope
the Lotus flower represents strength rebirth and Resilience
and added is a line from one of my favourite poets Rumi “You’ve seen my descent, now watch my rising”
I didn’t understand fully 3 years ago just how much of a rising there was coming
for years I’ve lived with both burning holes in my brain years of untangling the shame years and years and years taking the blame carrying the shame then years and more years unloading the shame but allowing the blame to become misplaced anger averting the idea that the one I loved could be that monster justifying mitigating his part because of his history preventing my heart from being broken again and again and again and then eventually understanding that the blame and shame actually lies fair and square at his feet, on his head not mine no more excusing or defending him
it took years and years for me to identify that blame and to put the shame where it truly belongs but in so doing I have felt and still feel so alone with no understanding from those who used to love me from the ones closest to me who are now so far far away from me who throw their anger their rage so blindly so angrily so misguidedly at me
I couldn’t comprehend why? and then the lightbulb moment the clarity the understanding they are doing exactly the same as I did
they cannot they do not the have not the capacity to cope with the shame the humiliation of knowing that the one person they knew and trusted could be that monster so their anger displaces misguidedly misplaced and is directed at me just one of his many victims who has had the audacity to finally stand up and speak out
the pain the heartbreak the divisiveness the trauma the misuse of power the infliction of grief and trauma the absolute suffering and distress caused by the evilness of paedophillia the perversion of incest the absolute lifelong torment from sexual abuse is so great so immense the ripples that grow and grow and grow into uncontrolled tsunami waves from the shame and the blame destroy relationships and families
shame and blame live symbiotically and unless they are directed fair and square at the feet of the offender they become parasitic and entwine within the psyche of the family tree and kill everything they touch
I have spent months processing some issues that have caused ongoing major triggers for me I’ve been unsure as to why the reactions were so strong I understood part of them But it was only recently that I fully understood the depths of the why
And before I start I want to add that it is NOT mandatory for ANYONE to have ANY medical tests that they do NOT want to have! So please allow me the grace to make my own decisions re my own health
Backtracking to the beginning of this story We needed to have some blood tests done So made appointments at our local medical centre Because of the state of our medical system in NZ currently there are currently no resident doctors at our centre So we have to see the nurses. As we do not make a habit of seeing doctors it’s been a while We both are patients of a Dr in the USA so are not being irresponsible In fact we are very proactive about our health Hence staying with a Dr who works with us as we need despite the distances
During our appointment the nurse started scrolling through my records and I started getting the inquisition ‘You haven’t had a mammogram’ “No – I have thermograms and I am actually scheduled for one next week “ ‘You haven’t had a cervical smear in a long time’ “No, I don’t actually want one” Then the coercions began ‘It’s over 5 years so it’s free for you’ ‘It’s so easy now, you just do it yourself’ ‘Here you go, go do it now while I sort your husband’s blood tests’ I felt cornered, to an extent bullied… I acquiesced and went I came away feeling incredibly angry with myself for not fighting for myself
A week later We were away from home I get a call from her Telling me that HrHPV had been detected And I needed to come in for a ‘proper cervical smear’ She insisted I make an appointment for when we returned home So from then I was riding the Rollercoaster of Fear! I couldn’t talk to anyone Until my therapist processed things with me My choices were – do nothing – go have it done – ask for another nurse as I had felt so bullied by the first one I was already riding the rollercoaster so doing nothing was a hard option I was triggered, distressed, angry
After a few days I called the clinic and asked to see a different nurse one of my choice All good!
So a week later we were home and I dutifully went I was absolutely stunned when the first nurse came to get me I was not happy I felt trapped again I managed to reiterate that I had not wanted the smear in the first place That I had asked for another nurse So she went to find her and I was able to switch rooms right away This nurse I feel more comfortable with I finally agreed to have the smear done It was BLOODY awful SO painful In so many ways By the time it was over I was a sobbing mess
To inflict this on a woman is bad enough But on a woman who endured years of sexual assault and rape This is invasive and soul destroying I couldn’t get out of there fast enough
A week later the results came back Negative Same scenario as many years ago I was so pissed off that I had allowed myself to get back on that rollercoaster
Two months later we had to return to the clinic This time to get a prescription sorted This time to see a locum an unknown male doctor As we drove my stomach began churning my head was pounding I was feeling really sick I realised I was experiencing full on panic attack Very thankful for understanding spousal support
Also grateful to meet the doctor as he was wonderful and understanding and helpful and not a bully Such a major relief
Moving forward a few weeks to another therapy session Talking about other things when all of a sudden I was hit by the understanding as to why I reacted so violently to the situation at the clinic
Yes, there was definitely the understandable reaction of an abuse victim But there was more and this is where it gets very personal and you may want to leave the room about now
When I was a child from the age of 7-8 till 18 I was a victim of incest at the hands of my father This is not debatable it happened it is My Truth
I was asked last week how did I seperate the pain from the pleasure That is one of the hardest things for a child to compute because incest is delivered by the person who you love and who is supposed to love you It is not always violent there is a lot of grooming and is executed in a misguided ‘loving way’ so there is more pleasure than pain
Just explaining this makes me want to vomit My response to the question came along with flashbacks that I had buried but obviously not deep enough “As a preteen/teen I felt incredibly trapped and I went through the motions required just so I could escape as fast as I could”
At that moment I understood my reaction in the nurses clinic I felt trapped I acquiesced to enable my escape
I had retreated back into that young girl and I did the only thing I knew how
I hope you haven’t run out of popcorn this isn’t the end of the story just this chapter….
So to get help ongoing to pursue my healing the pathways have changed more hoops have been added to the circus I’m told I have to Trust the Process
In trusting the process I have to fit myself into boxes that do not fit me Boxes created by some glass towered, plastic brained, robot who is under the very mistaken impression that by answering a few generic questions They can channel me They can fix me
I can’t Trust the Process when they don’t See Me when they don’t Hear Me when they decide that categorising me into boxes of boxes numbered 1 to 2 to 5 to 10 is going to fix my problem
Nah! It ain’t All it does is triggers the shit out of me makes me angry opens more wounds creating more of a mess of me than I was before
One of the few understanding real people in the department told me all those years ago this will take you years and years and even more years to heal from He didn’t make me fill in redundant boxes He heard Me
It took decades to feel safe enough to allow someone to hear and now I feel like I am going backwards
Trust the System they’re not hearing Me they’re not hearing Anyone they just want to tick their bloody boxes and rake in their daily dollars and pretend they’ve fixed so many and feel good about themselves it is all absolute bullshit!
Forgiveness…. an easy word to toss around used so freely by those within the many diverse circles of religiosity especially those who have not experienced abuse the placaters the well meaners the do gooders the word throwers the ones who have not stood in my shoes
Forgiveness…. This word holds so many red cards for me I have struggled with it for decades After being sexually & emotionally abused for years and years the ruination of my childhood I then go on and live through decades of spiritual abuse and more emotional abuse so much shaming and blaming and shunning by those who can’t accept what my abuser did So ‘forgive’ me if I sound jaded I Am Very Jaded
There’s gotta be a better word Another word A word that takes all the blame and shame and stacks it squarely on who it belongs
Forgiveness…. Thesaurus synonyms are absolution clemency compassion dispensation grace mercy reprieve vindication amnesty reprieve etc All ideations from religiosity
Then there is this noun as in pardon; end of blame End of blame Well fuck me thrice over There is no way I am ever going to end the blame I will never forget what was done to me I will never forget the childhood that was robbed from me I have been shamed to hell and back for nigh on 60yrs There is no way this side of hell freezing over that I am ever going to end the blame or pardon my abuser
This probably sounds angry that’s cuz it is I am angry No matter how much healing work I do it always comes back to bloody forgiveness!
I am not allowing anger to eat me up I am angry but anger is not possessing me I was recently told that “Holding on to anger Is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die“ so hop off your high horses don’t start the lectures don’t drop the platitudes If I was drinking the poison I wouldn’t be processing I wouldn’t be writing This is the way I know how to release
I am doing the work the work I shouldn’t have to be doing cuz it all comes down to the fact that if what was done To me hadn’t been done To me then I wouldn’t have to be asking
When you are living and healing from years of abuse you face daily conundrums you are processing and growing and trying valiantly to heal in a way that allows you to regain your true self the issue is though that you actually don’t know who that is your abuser striped the knowing of your self away from you the moment he took you
you spend a life time trying to regain some sense of self self preservation self worth self confidence so many self’s but you constantly ride a see-saw scared of becoming self centred self focused self ish
so you bury your own self in the search of yourself and get lost in others self’s
instead of fighting your own dragons you protect your self by fighting for and with others against their dragons because instinctively you recognise those are the same dragons you need to fight but they are a step removed from yours so it is less painful
you become a warrior fighting the cause and sympathy becomes empathy but carrying load after load of others pain becomes too heavy
and then warriors break but only when broken can you truly focus on self healing only then do you realise the courage it has taken to get you this far so much courage taken to stay alive it is exhausting
but your journey towards self growth has just begun
you then face more conundrums how do you heal? do you continue to bury the truths of your abuse do you continue the cycle by Not airing your dirty linen in public? Keep sweeping the dirt under the carpet? Shut your mouth cuz it might offend others?
do you stand up and fight do you speak your truths
you have to find Your own courage fight your own battles no one else will fight them for you
you will need to dig deep and find your courage to fight your abuser for the rest of your life even when he is no longer on this planet his dragons will still breath fire through the mouths of others
because no matter how many times you are told it was not your fault it always comes back to it is Your dirty linen Your dirt Your abuse
It is absolute shit revictimisation at his finest
it takes an exhausting amount of courage every day to refuse to wear his dirty linen his dirt his abuse
When life is trucking along you are hit by small triggers spasmodically but you just stop briefly and deal with them as they bump you then you’re back on course again till the next wee one They feel big But in actuality they’re just potholes that reduce your speed momentarily
But when out of left field a huge train mows you down you don’t have time to run for cover It unleashes all the demons that you’ve managed to keep locked in your basement for the past years
It sucker punches gut punches derails you
all the tips and techniques you’ve learnt all the therapies all the breathing everything just flies out the window
Those demons start playing havoc in your head reigniting memories exhausting you with all the ‘whatifs’ all the ‘whys’
Taking me down trails I don’t want to go the overgrown tracks I have been consciously avoiding shutting out closing my mind to No!! I don’t want to go there again No more Stop!!!
The anger the grief the absolute sadness and the feelings of betrayal
The betrayal is the worst all these years and they knew but they stayed silent
My journal page during the weekend quote Ann Voskamp
I spent the end of March and the first two days of April participating in a Living Fully Creative Therapy Group 3.25 very intense days It was a ‘retreat’ for sexual abuse survivors. I was fortunate to be put forward for funding to attend. It was with much trepidation that I agreed. I didn’t know what to expect so went with no expectations. I deliberately booked myself into a motel nearby as I knew that I would not cope with the travel too and fro after such intensive days. That was a self care move and a good one I was right. I needed space for me each night.
We were a small group of victims in varying stages of healing. It was challenging, disturbing, distressing, amazing, painful and wonderful all at the same time. To be able to freely communicate and be heard & believed and supported in such a safe way was actually incredible.
I’ve never experienced psychodrama or group therapy before It was certainly very interesting, challenging and emotionally draining. Actively participating in the dramas was definitely not something I was comfortable to do I preferred the role of witness and giving feedback This was an important part of the proceedings The art therapy portions were certainly more my thing There just wasn’t enough of them for me
What did I take from my time there?
Firstly – I learned that I can participate, or not, at whatever level I am comfortable with and saying no is very ok. And I was commended for doing so.
Secondly – I learned that I can hold my own space. That I’m important and have as much right as anyone else to hold space. That I’m not taking from anyone else. And that in owning my space I’m also giving to others.
Thirdly – I learned that I was believed. At all times. I was supported and held in the safest place I’ve ever been in. In the past when I have tried talking openly I’ve been shutdown & silenced. That is revictimisation and I will no longer allow myself to be a victim of that.
Fourthly – I have never read my work aloud to anyone before. I usually write & run. But this time they wanted my words. They asked me to read to them. Their responses were more than could’ve imagined. So much empathy, compassion, & identifying. I felt validated. As a writer. As an artist. As a woman.
An initial 20min exercise at my Living Fully Workshop. The colours portray different areas of my life, the brown are the shadows that people can’t & don’t want to seeDay 2 of my Living Fully Workshop. 20min Art expression session Words which are all part of me at any given time….
For the past few days my mind has been a mash up of blank emotions Feeling with others Identifying with parts of their stories But not knowing how to process my own Because it just feels too huge Too complicated Where do I start my PTSD, my ball of string, has so many pieces rolled into it some are long, very very very long and others are short, abrupt, moments with many varying lengths between
This morning Russell Brand challenged me loud and clear He pushed me up off of my pillows and said Start writing!
Here goes….
My father He was my main fuck up He fucked me up so fucking good He spent my entire childhood ensuring I was totally fucked up And he did such a good job of it Incest is the most confusing type of sexual abuse anyone can endure No violence involved Just so called love and enjoyment It turns my stomach to recall how much he made me enjoy what he did to me For over 10 years That is a total screw up in anyones brain I bury those memories so deep But this morning they are surfacing And I am SO FUCKING ANGRY He stole so much from me The pleasure of actually knowing when I lost my virginity Or the ability to give consent and give myself to who I wanted The never knowing when, because it is blurred into obscurity The not knowing how to guide my own children My children – OMG don’t get me started on that He locked my emotions up so fucking much I didn’t know how to parent or communicate with me own children I so fucked up my own children
That day we were going to visit our friends the day our landrover rolled off the road and down the bank the day the one man I trusted let me down for the first time that one error of judgement set triggers alight that haunt me decades later fears that seem now to be irrational but are so fucking real fear of falling fear of losing my children fear of confined spaces fear of losing control fears, irrational and uncontrollable fears…
Home from the hospital an innocent comment A curious question Allowed us to discover our precious daughter had been abused whilst we were away she was in the care of someone we trusted but still a fucked up deviant who managed to get to my precious little girl So Fucking Up and So Fucking Angry
A month later pregnant with very unplanned baby No4 after pelvic injuries, broken left ankle, sprained right knee and weeks on crutches after a month of painkillers after a month of vomiting then bleeding a bucket full of bleeding nearly died getting to the hospital I lost my baby
Abused by a hospital doctor another man I should’ve been able to trust my husband’s ignorance/innocence in female medical stuff allowed it to happen Nurses enveloped me allowed me to cry helped me understand what he did to me was wrong a week later re-admittance a repeat proceedure re-traumatisation
Finally home Fucked up again No you can’t grieve your baby You gotta praise God Cuz you gotta accept its all part of his plan So no tears No sadness Let’s just praise God and carry on living So Fucked Up
Baby No5 Perfectly normal pregnancy Horrendous delivery Hospital trauma Stirrups Huge needle in my spine during stage 2 Total evacuation of my uterus Post birth – you need to get out of bed Migraine to the max Oops – another medical fuckup More needles in my spine “oh you have a wee boy after 3 girls. How lovely” No fucking way do I want this kid! I am in so much pain and you expect me to love this baby 10 days to finally hold and begin to love my boy Such a Fuck Up
Baby No7 7 years later My friends enveloped me Finally I was allowed to grieve But along the way pieces of trauma varying degrees of severity adding up relationships family dramas accidents business issues so many traumas and falls, so many falls culminating in years and years of body pain But swept aside as just another thing to deal with I kept busy, keeping busy Running the farm Doing all the bookwork Raising & educating my 10 living children Feeding the myriads that surrounded our family table each day Encapsulating extreme busyness! I was really, really good at keeping busy
Unknowingly My stress bucket was filling then one evening one small thing was said But it was magnificent & breathtaking in its delivery and its magnificence overflowed my bucket And I broke An emotional breakdown that completely unhinged me Threw me off of my rotation And spin me out of my carefully controlled busyness It totally bewildered my husband It completely blindsided me But actually I wasn’t shocked I had been quietly screaming for help since I was a small child
That Fuck Up led me on my course of discovery and healing And I am so fucking grateful I began then
Because the 2nd biggest Fuck Up of my life happened two years later
On the 17th February 2013 see! this time I remember all everything each detail of that day is marked with such clarity
My husband, My Timmy The man who had loved me since I was 14 years old The man who saved me and cherished me The man I loved so much left for town and he never came home He was killed Instantly only 20mins from our home when his vehicle left the road and rolled 200m down the hillside
The trauma from that moment has overshadowed almost every other trauma in my life I was so Fucked Up and Fucked Over by the police, victim support etc The people that are supposed to be there for you What a massive Fuck Up! the spiral rippling effect this one event has had on myself my children our extended family is beyond belief I cannot even write this without crying I can talk about my abuse I can get angry, feel sad, etc But I can’t cry But for this my heart cries It is like a bottomless well of tears that will never stop They are always there No matter how happy my life is or how content I am in the moment This trauma has fucked me up like no other
Leaving our home of over 40 years Packing up after 4 generations that was traumatic in itself The splintering of our family The inability of my children to process and support each other as they each reeled in their own pain We have been so Fucked Up
Moving to the city Creating new life and new friends exciting but So hard I got a job A dream job Working with Sexual Abuse victims I So Loved my job Until I was Fucked Over once again by the person who was supposed to support us and be there for us Our Team Manager After a particular horrendous call out The worst any of us had ever experienced Instead of support and care I was Traumatised Victimised Stung big time by a scorpion Put over a barrel – had to leave Fucked Up Again
And in amongst my story there are my children My children all have their own stories I have permission to tell some but now is not that place Their stories require their own spaces Their stories are interwoven with mine through it all We have become stronger Still Fucked Up But So Much Fuckin Stronger
