You captured something none of us wants to declare in our reality Steve, but we may recognize somewhere in the mire of our history or subconsciousness; whether through personal experience or holding someone else’s story. Thank you for giving voice in such a truthful, poignant way.
I wonder what the lies are that embedded themselves in those moments that take decades to uncover and write over with healing truths? I am grateful for this testimony of bravery that speaks pain and yet great courage.
Keep telling your story friend. I will hold it with you, even if there is nothing else I can do.
Thank you so much for this wonderful response, Natalie. I remember one of the first tenets we learned in our training was that our spiritual formation is definitely for our benefit, but also for the benefit of others. Yes, this is a difficult story to tell but thankfully it doesn't end that way. If I can share the unspeakable with others and move them to find healing for their own unspeakable moments, well then I have accomplished what I set out to do--to benefit others. Thank you so much for your support and encouragement, my friend. See you in Valyermo!
“Brain stems tossed the diapers into the air and onto the bedroom carpet creating a pool of irresistible hot cloth. We dove into the diapers with sheer joy, wriggling in the warmth, squirming in the softness.
Never saw it coming.” This post marks a turn from astute reflection to brilliant writing. Thank you, @TheUltraContemplative again, for your courage and your wordcraft to share insight for others in pursuit of wholeness and healing….
Thank you so much for acknowledging the effort it took to make that turn. And thank you for pointing out my main purpose in writing this. Not for kudos or shock value but for motivation. I’m still not sure where that line is but every reader knows where it is in their own heart.
“But neither type of electrical shock creates a pain that cauterizes the memory.”
My therapist likes to say that trauma is pain + confusion. Getting electrical shocks while on the job, while painful, are probably not a source of confusion like abuse from a parent can be—the person charged to love and protect us.
Thank you so much for taking the time to read and to comment on this, Emma. And I am really happy that it resonated with you that way. I really wanted to convey how visceral the trauma was and I'm glad I was able to achieve that. The good news, that I'll eventually get to, is that this is only the beginning and not the ongoing story.
Oh yes absolutely achieved, and it broke my heart a little too. The gorgeous description of the warm laundry, something that felt so happy and so representative of care and safety… and then ‘I didn’t see it coming’… heart stopping. It is so skilfully written with such sharp beauty. I applaud you and await what comes next xx
Oh my gosh, thank you Emma. The difficulty in communicating a visceral response is that I’m hesitant about what it’s doing to the reader. I hope it was “heart stopping “ in a good way.
Yes in a powerful way as you had set the scene from the start by being in a therapy room… and with a trigger warning, so I knew something was coming even though you didn’t. I hope that makes sense
Emma, you do make sense and it’s great encouragement to me. As I told another reader, shock and awe is not the goal here, motivating someone to find the courage to get help is. Honestly, I have no sure way of knowing how someone is going to react, but I can only hope it’s in a positive way. Thanks again for the encouragement.
This must have been difficult to write, but you wrote it well. You managed to create something so beautiful out of something so ugly. And as someone who’s on the other side of the therapy room most days—it’s professional, but the caring is very real. (As you also capture well!)
Thanks for taking the time to read and to respond, Loren. Yes, this series is the most difficult emotionally I've had to write so far but I believe so needed to perhaps motivate others to seek help. And I'm glad that I was able to capture the sincere care work I received from my therapist. My wife, who is a therapist, is also my editor and so she keeps me honest in my retelling of the story. Thanks again for the encouraging words, Loren.
So powerful Steve. To tell the story, straight, as it stands in your memory, to allow it be on the page, and yes, so others can find their own strength in vulnerability. Such an encouragement to me as I try to do something similar. After reading this, I want to try to write some pieces of me in this visceral way. How close to the bone can I get? Thank you. We’re still here, and what a wonder we are.
Yes Emily, we're still here and blessed to be. Honestly, due to the PTSD I have from this incident, what memories I have are only possible through the integration work of EMDR and my contemplative practices. I'm glad you see this as an encouragement because I needed a lot before I even thought of publishing this piece. I hope you do find the means to tell your story in a visceral way. If it's any encouragement, only you know your story, only you know your truth. Thanks for encouraging me, friend.
You're welcome, Steve. And thank you so much for your encouragement. I am not surprised at all that the memories are only accessible in the ways that you describe. Yes, we are the only ones who know our stories and our truths! I need to be reminded of that over and over. Many blessings.
My daughter is three. Writing this, I’m also watching her play in unobstructed sunlight. Call to my son (2) as he plays nearer and nearer the county road.
I don’t share your story, but I feel it in my toes, this “pain that cauterizes.” The very ends of my extremities often throb due to somewhat unnecessary blood loss, twice, at the hands of medical professionals, people who were suppose to care for me. Pain and confusion, indeed.
I’ve found it especially difficult to remember let alone articulate the times I felt most vulnerable in a doctor’s office. Though I still haven’t shared publicly—done what you’ve done here—one thing which allowed me to open up about details was to write to an audience, the ones who listen and show up every week on my blog. To bring them into the room with me, so to speak. I imagine them as witnesses, watching the doctor poke and prod me.
I am honored to stand in the room with you today. To witness the laundry on the floor and your brother’s stretched t-shirt. To not-hear his scream.
This is such a beautiful response. Thank you, Christianna. I love what you said because i 💯 % believe what you said, we have more than followers, witnesses here, we have people who stand with us. This is a difficult series for me but one that needs to be shared because of where I am today. Thank you for standing with me and thank you for your tender sharing. That was brave. Yes, go give your daughter the tightest squeeze.
I appreciate this acknowledgement of my sharing! I would only add: Keep up this terrifying but vital work. What a testament to how far you’ve come. I hope I can share the deep things too, soon.
Christianna, I’m going to give you a sneak peek behind the curtain. The wherewithal to even write this was over 60 years in the making. Coming to the point of being able to share it only happens because I’m convinced it has value to help others. I’ve had people reach out to me after reading previous posts inquiring about the type of therapy I went through and if it could help them. That’s all I could hope for and motivates me to continue to share my story.
I don't know how to describe that this installment of your trauma is piercingly painful... yet includes beautifully described joy.
It's devastating to imagine your realization... the moment life, trust, and feeling safe changed forever. I ache for your incredibly young self to have felt fear, panic... crashing into innocent bliss.
I have experiences... where people who were supposed to be the guaranteed providers of safety and love, became the perpetrators of deep pain that never could leave my heart or memories. The confusion itself feels traumatic...loving someone who annihilated your innocence. Or, is it love? Can it be love if you are desperately afraid of them?
A decades-long handicap, making it impossible to know what a healthy relationship is. Always drawn to the comfortable pain people inflict.
I'm so sorry for my long response; your story hit hard.
I am extremely sorry for all you both endured.
Please know the gratitude felt for your desire to help others.
No apologies needed, Tina. I am very grateful that you took time to do a close reading of my work and that it resonated with you. I am so sorry for your trauma that you had to endure and unfortunately, as you stated, the effects can haunt us throughout life. I have no adequate answer regarding true love or not, but I do know what trauma is and you do, too. We can't change the past, but we can change how we feel and react to that past, and how it can affect us moving forward. And thank you for the affirmation of my desire to motivate others to get the help they need. Thank you for your very thoughtful response, Tina.
Thank you so much for reading and this wonderful response, Kara. This is actually presence recreated through the power of EMDR sessions and hours of contemplation. My therapist gave me the heads up that even though we're done with my sessions, memories will come up. She was right. So glad I get to share this with you.
You captured something none of us wants to declare in our reality Steve, but we may recognize somewhere in the mire of our history or subconsciousness; whether through personal experience or holding someone else’s story. Thank you for giving voice in such a truthful, poignant way.
I wonder what the lies are that embedded themselves in those moments that take decades to uncover and write over with healing truths? I am grateful for this testimony of bravery that speaks pain and yet great courage.
Keep telling your story friend. I will hold it with you, even if there is nothing else I can do.
Thank you so much for this wonderful response, Natalie. I remember one of the first tenets we learned in our training was that our spiritual formation is definitely for our benefit, but also for the benefit of others. Yes, this is a difficult story to tell but thankfully it doesn't end that way. If I can share the unspeakable with others and move them to find healing for their own unspeakable moments, well then I have accomplished what I set out to do--to benefit others. Thank you so much for your support and encouragement, my friend. See you in Valyermo!
“Brain stems tossed the diapers into the air and onto the bedroom carpet creating a pool of irresistible hot cloth. We dove into the diapers with sheer joy, wriggling in the warmth, squirming in the softness.
Never saw it coming.” This post marks a turn from astute reflection to brilliant writing. Thank you, @TheUltraContemplative again, for your courage and your wordcraft to share insight for others in pursuit of wholeness and healing….
Thank you so much for acknowledging the effort it took to make that turn. And thank you for pointing out my main purpose in writing this. Not for kudos or shock value but for motivation. I’m still not sure where that line is but every reader knows where it is in their own heart.
“But neither type of electrical shock creates a pain that cauterizes the memory.”
My therapist likes to say that trauma is pain + confusion. Getting electrical shocks while on the job, while painful, are probably not a source of confusion like abuse from a parent can be—the person charged to love and protect us.
Thank you for opening your heart to us.
I like that description, "pain+confusion." That's exactly how I feel. Thank you always for your time and encouragement MaryAnn.
Powerful, agonising, visceral. Thank you 🙏
Thank you so much for taking the time to read and to comment on this, Emma. And I am really happy that it resonated with you that way. I really wanted to convey how visceral the trauma was and I'm glad I was able to achieve that. The good news, that I'll eventually get to, is that this is only the beginning and not the ongoing story.
Oh yes absolutely achieved, and it broke my heart a little too. The gorgeous description of the warm laundry, something that felt so happy and so representative of care and safety… and then ‘I didn’t see it coming’… heart stopping. It is so skilfully written with such sharp beauty. I applaud you and await what comes next xx
Oh my gosh, thank you Emma. The difficulty in communicating a visceral response is that I’m hesitant about what it’s doing to the reader. I hope it was “heart stopping “ in a good way.
Yes in a powerful way as you had set the scene from the start by being in a therapy room… and with a trigger warning, so I knew something was coming even though you didn’t. I hope that makes sense
Emma, you do make sense and it’s great encouragement to me. As I told another reader, shock and awe is not the goal here, motivating someone to find the courage to get help is. Honestly, I have no sure way of knowing how someone is going to react, but I can only hope it’s in a positive way. Thanks again for the encouragement.
This must have been difficult to write, but you wrote it well. You managed to create something so beautiful out of something so ugly. And as someone who’s on the other side of the therapy room most days—it’s professional, but the caring is very real. (As you also capture well!)
Thanks for taking the time to read and to respond, Loren. Yes, this series is the most difficult emotionally I've had to write so far but I believe so needed to perhaps motivate others to seek help. And I'm glad that I was able to capture the sincere care work I received from my therapist. My wife, who is a therapist, is also my editor and so she keeps me honest in my retelling of the story. Thanks again for the encouraging words, Loren.
Thank you for your vulnerability and I'm guessing many of us reading can connect to our own similar stories.
Yes! That's my hope. Thanks for reading and responding, Christine.
So powerful Steve. To tell the story, straight, as it stands in your memory, to allow it be on the page, and yes, so others can find their own strength in vulnerability. Such an encouragement to me as I try to do something similar. After reading this, I want to try to write some pieces of me in this visceral way. How close to the bone can I get? Thank you. We’re still here, and what a wonder we are.
Yes Emily, we're still here and blessed to be. Honestly, due to the PTSD I have from this incident, what memories I have are only possible through the integration work of EMDR and my contemplative practices. I'm glad you see this as an encouragement because I needed a lot before I even thought of publishing this piece. I hope you do find the means to tell your story in a visceral way. If it's any encouragement, only you know your story, only you know your truth. Thanks for encouraging me, friend.
You're welcome, Steve. And thank you so much for your encouragement. I am not surprised at all that the memories are only accessible in the ways that you describe. Yes, we are the only ones who know our stories and our truths! I need to be reminded of that over and over. Many blessings.
Thank you for sharing. Deep breaths.
My daughter is three. Writing this, I’m also watching her play in unobstructed sunlight. Call to my son (2) as he plays nearer and nearer the county road.
I don’t share your story, but I feel it in my toes, this “pain that cauterizes.” The very ends of my extremities often throb due to somewhat unnecessary blood loss, twice, at the hands of medical professionals, people who were suppose to care for me. Pain and confusion, indeed.
I’ve found it especially difficult to remember let alone articulate the times I felt most vulnerable in a doctor’s office. Though I still haven’t shared publicly—done what you’ve done here—one thing which allowed me to open up about details was to write to an audience, the ones who listen and show up every week on my blog. To bring them into the room with me, so to speak. I imagine them as witnesses, watching the doctor poke and prod me.
I am honored to stand in the room with you today. To witness the laundry on the floor and your brother’s stretched t-shirt. To not-hear his scream.
I think I’ll go hug my children now.
This is such a beautiful response. Thank you, Christianna. I love what you said because i 💯 % believe what you said, we have more than followers, witnesses here, we have people who stand with us. This is a difficult series for me but one that needs to be shared because of where I am today. Thank you for standing with me and thank you for your tender sharing. That was brave. Yes, go give your daughter the tightest squeeze.
I appreciate this acknowledgement of my sharing! I would only add: Keep up this terrifying but vital work. What a testament to how far you’ve come. I hope I can share the deep things too, soon.
Christianna, I’m going to give you a sneak peek behind the curtain. The wherewithal to even write this was over 60 years in the making. Coming to the point of being able to share it only happens because I’m convinced it has value to help others. I’ve had people reach out to me after reading previous posts inquiring about the type of therapy I went through and if it could help them. That’s all I could hope for and motivates me to continue to share my story.
I don't know how to describe that this installment of your trauma is piercingly painful... yet includes beautifully described joy.
It's devastating to imagine your realization... the moment life, trust, and feeling safe changed forever. I ache for your incredibly young self to have felt fear, panic... crashing into innocent bliss.
I have experiences... where people who were supposed to be the guaranteed providers of safety and love, became the perpetrators of deep pain that never could leave my heart or memories. The confusion itself feels traumatic...loving someone who annihilated your innocence. Or, is it love? Can it be love if you are desperately afraid of them?
A decades-long handicap, making it impossible to know what a healthy relationship is. Always drawn to the comfortable pain people inflict.
I'm so sorry for my long response; your story hit hard.
I am extremely sorry for all you both endured.
Please know the gratitude felt for your desire to help others.
No apologies needed, Tina. I am very grateful that you took time to do a close reading of my work and that it resonated with you. I am so sorry for your trauma that you had to endure and unfortunately, as you stated, the effects can haunt us throughout life. I have no adequate answer regarding true love or not, but I do know what trauma is and you do, too. We can't change the past, but we can change how we feel and react to that past, and how it can affect us moving forward. And thank you for the affirmation of my desire to motivate others to get the help they need. Thank you for your very thoughtful response, Tina.
Thank you ❤️
I am amazed that you could be so present in this scene. It was beautifully told and I can't wait for the next installment...
Thank you so much for reading and this wonderful response, Kara. This is actually presence recreated through the power of EMDR sessions and hours of contemplation. My therapist gave me the heads up that even though we're done with my sessions, memories will come up. She was right. So glad I get to share this with you.