Have you ever had an instant awakening that revolutionized the way you think and live?
Just two weeks ago I would’ve rolled at my eyes at this very question. I used to think enlightenment was reserved for Buddhists who dedicate their lives to finding it. Despite my religious history, I recently had an epiphany-like experience that reframed my entire perspective. It was fortifying & fear-provoking in one quick swoop.
Before this wake-up call I was stuck in a time where I wanted to jump out of my own skin at every waking moment. I have always felt dirty & bad, like the wrong in my household/school/world was my fault. Every move I made was an effort to hide the truth, observe & act normal. Piece by piece I tried to mold myself into something the world accepted, someone who wasn’t “raped” or “sick.” Showing my true face wasn’t an option.
While I learned in school how to care for patients who have been sexually assaulted, I didn’t take that advice for myself. I never even considered it. My psychiatric rotation taught me that childhood trauma takes a toll on the body that carries into adulthood. Survivors are basically frozen in time, with childlike tendencies, until they begin the journey of healing from that assault. Keeping it a secret only makes things worse and can lead to skewed coping behaviors like substance abuse and disordered eating.
I am a textbook sexual assault survivor: immature reactions (comes out as severe anxiety over mundane issues), exacerbation of physical illness, night terrors, suicidal behavior, body memory, inability to move forward despite the support & resources. I can feel myself hanging onto the past, but for what? It’s not like I lost a nursing career, and I’ve proven I’m strong enough to overcome the odds stacked against me.
All of that meant shit at the end of the day, because it’s different when it’s you.
The current definition of body memory is considered a hypothesis but it’s very much real. Since memory can only be held within your brain, not cellular tissue throughout the body, scientists try to debunk this one. It’s not so much the body remembering as it is the brain only releasing incomplete bits and pieces of those memories. With body memory, you get the physical manifestation of the traumatic event without the visual reel playing back inside your head. Dissociation is the brains way of protecting itself from information it is not equipped or mature enough to process. In my opinion, body memory is a mix between reexperiencing the trauma (to alert you that something is wrong & needs to be addressed) & dissociation. It is the segue between a complete disconnect, and processing the details of those suppressed memories.
Last week I had my first intense body memory. Immediately I knew what it was and what was happening. Fuck, it was intense. It was far from foreign, like it’s happened a million times before. The tightness in my chest gripped me so hard I couldn’t expand my lungs, like my veins were circulating lightning rather than blood. Every cell felt hot and swollen; I was shaking so hard my knees were popping. I’m not sure how they didn’t buckle. My eyes were fixed downward in a trance. Goosebumps blanketed my skin & my hair stood on end. I even braced myself, if that makes sense, prepared for impact.
My therapist tells me to close my eyes and “go inside” to analyze where these feelings are coming from. Typically this method helps me manage symptoms better in the future. But during this episode, I didn’t dare. I knew where this stemmed from and actively do not want the mental video to play back with it. I’m good.
Reexperiencing the physical symptoms made me realize I am exactly where I’m supposed to be and always have been. I didn’t tell anyone I was abused until 3 ½ years ago, not even my counselors. I couldn’t begin the healing process until that secret was out of the vault. When unresolved abuse met chronic illness, I fell apart. But I can’t be mad because, even then, I was right on target with my healing process.
When I pushed everyone away during our initial home renovations because I didn’t know what boundaries were,
when I kept a secret stash of money, beginning at the age of nine, just in case I needed to run away,
when I would cry every time someone made a mean comment about me being in a wheelchair,
when I strictly followed every one of my doctors orders because I was incapable of standing up to a man,
I was exactly where I was supposed to be. While I’m not proud that I hurt people as a result of anxiety, I don’t feel like a failure or guilty for behaving this way. These were appropriate responses to a fucked up situation. I choose to grant myself grace during the times I was trying to survive in the only way I knew how.
If you feel misplaced in society it’s likely because you were. I tried desperately to fit in and be like everyone else, healthy and happy. People told me to shut up about the abuse when I did finally come out with it. I didn’t blog about it often because that’s not what people want to hear–even my creative outlet has been controlled by societal stigmas. I write to help my readers feel less alone, so the whole truth is especially necessary within this space.
Let yourself evolve. Let yourself hit rock bottom & be proud when you choose to rebuild regardless of what’s stacked against you. Grant yourself grace. ♥
{para}sympathy 