It's hard to describe what it's like to be blindsided by fresh memories of childhood bullying and sexual trauma while in my 50's. I guess it was the right time. I was in good community at church; my wife and I were doing great; I had stability around me that gave me room to be unstable. And boy howdy, has there been some instability.
Not longer after I began remembering things long suppressed, I asked a counselor friend when I should consider therapy. She said, "When life becomes unmanageable." With that standard in mind, it was not long before I knew it was time to get professional help.
Over the past two years, I have done both Equine Therapy and EMDR. I have been a part of two small groups at church in which I am free to be honest about how I'm doing and what I'm processing. I kept our church elders up-to-date; they gave me support and room to both fall apart and heal. I addressed our church congregation this past July about my journey, and they responded with love.
I've pushed into God more than ever before, focusing on His love and His promise to make all things new (Revelation 21). I cling to that: He has the love and power needed to reconcile all things to Himself (Colossians 1).
And yet, honestly, so many days I just wanted to lock myself in my room, turn out the light, and curl up in a ball under a weighted blanket for the foreseeable future because it was so. so. hard.
And then, I would catch glimpses of what kind of life awaited on the other side of healing, and it was so beautiful, and healthy, and good, and I loved who I was as Jesus worked those things for my good. (Romans 8:28)
It's been a wild ride.
I've learned - I am still learning - that trauma reflex is a thing; that the body and brain keep score; that fawning is a hard habit to break; that horses are amazing companions on a path to healing; that Jesus is a Comforter; that my wife is deep waters with a beautiful soul; and that all kinds of wounds can become scars, a testament that healed pain still leaves a mark.
Lately, I have started writing again. I haven't done a lot of creative writing in years. I didn't journal through this like I had journaled through my grief when my father died. So, I dusted off my poetry pen keyboard, fed those thoughts into the AI music-making website Suno, and created some songs.
There has been something healing about putting thoughts on paper, exploring the best way I can express both where I was and and where I am first with words, and then with music that matches the soundtrack in my head.
Perhaps your life experience looks, in some fashion, similar to mine.
If so, I'm sorry. That's really hard.
If you care to listen to the songs I post, may they remind you that you are not alone; that our history is not our destiny; and, to quote Samwise Gangee, "There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for."
Here's a link to the introductory song: https://suno.com/s/JDL7NyHITk7RqXYx. It's a classic rock vibe, which I hope captures the grittiness of life. The chorus is hopeful, which is a reflection of where I am now more than where I was as a child, or even two years ago. HT to Shakespeare for the first stanza. #iwasanenglishmajor
"Toil And Trouble"
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