Oh now we are talking my kind of language.
Our body and psyche hold two different kinds of trauma: explicit and implicit.
It takes great effort to release the damage of unprocessed trauma.
I have just begun this effort. It is a herculean task. I will be honest, I am nervous. Scared. Afraid. Of what will come up. But I want to be released form this bondage.
My personal relationships are fraught with red flags. And I am so sick of talking about it. The disconnection between my head and my body has never been more apparent than when I simply sit still and scan my body for signs.
The body never lies. It has an intelligence I believe surpasses the intellect. And I am listening now.
Pre-verbal trauma. I released something of the sort at the TRM workshop. Scared the crap out of me but intrigued me just the same. Feels like the therapy I have been searching for my entire life.
I feel lucky and ready that I met my current therapist. From the first second I saw her face I knew. I just knew. Her level of empathy and compassion is so nurturing. I feel safe and contained and most importantly, seen. It doesn’t hurt that she has tons of toys in her office either. Toys for kids, that is.
Masturbation in adolescence is a sign of an involuntary attempt to manage early childhood trauma. Same with addiction.
What issues and unpleasant feelings do you see repeated from your childhood in your current relationship?
I have had a recurring dream where I am screaming at my mother, “Why don’t you love me??!!” or “Why can’t you love me???!!” usually while we are trying to paddle a tiny life raft up the face of an enormous tidal wave and she’s not paddling at all.
I have heard the same thoughts in my head towards my husband.
The feeling of being a burden. Being unwanted. Not chosen. Not special. Not the most important one. Not worth fighting for. Not missed.
“Healer, heal thyself first.”
I’m on it.
I always tell the foster kids that I work with that trauma is relative, and although I do not know what it is like to be a foster kid in the system, I do know what it is like to feel abandoned, neglected, and alone. And I can always meet them there and then help them see things differently through sharing our stories.
I offer them a life raft in the guise of personal narrative.
Change your story, change your life. Or is it change your mind and change your life?