This past Saturday marked 19 years since I was attacked by my ex-boyfriend. People are often surprised at how casually, how willingly, I talk about an event that almost took my life.
Given that the attack was a stabbing, I’ve sometimes had new friends remark with surprised amusement on my attachment to the rather large chef knife I’m so very attached to among my kitchen tools.
I sometimes like to tease people for their use of the phrase “stabbed in the back” to describe betrayal. That sure leads to some delightfully awkward moments!
For those of you who still have trauma – whatever the type of trauma – still churning in your guts and waking you at night, know this:
I have 19 years under my belt.
In that time, I spent the earliest 2 years in a profound depression; that was followed by 6 years of lesser depression.
I have spent countless hours in therapy with a wonderful therapist who used a variety of tools to help me reduce my fear to manageable levels.
I took anti-depressants for the better part of a decade.
I have a supportive family who paid for much of the above in addition to scads of emotional presence, and have had loves who were patient with my delicacy, my outbursts, my triggers.
Know that when a friend who had dealt with her own domestic traumas suggested to me that I set myself a goal of having forgiven my ex by the time the scars on my back had healed, I thought it was impossible; I couldn’t imagine forgiveness. I still have scars on my back, three shrunken dashes that have been mistaken for the sites of laparoscopic surgery. I have forgiven him. I have even forgiven myself, a much more difficult accomplishment.
Know that my timeline isn’t your timeline. Maybe you’ll roll through your healing more quickly; maybe it will take much longer. There’s no timetable to healing, only steps forward. And sometimes steps backwards.
Know that you are not alone. That the people who can’t bear to hear your story, or sit with your pain – the ones who want you to suck it up or get over it – they’re dealing with their own baggage, triggers and discomfort. That’s their journey, unrelated to you. Keep talking. Keep sharing. You’ll find the people who can hold that space and when you do, your story will not only heal you, it will help them heal, grow, deepen, too.
Know that if you do the work, if you allow the healing, you will someday realize, perhaps with shock and gratitude, that this trauma has transformed into one of the most profound gifts of your life. Nothing facilitates our growth like discomfort and, friend, this is discomfort big time. You’ll come out of this with a greater understanding of yourself, more strength, deeper roots for grounding and, my personal favorite, a pretty darn impressive tool kit for sitting with others experiencing trauma.
Know that just like personal growth itself, healing might just be a lifelong journey. Just last year, my coach helped me uncover a very subtle barb still in my side from that time. It had been so long, I didn’t even notice that there had been discomfort until the barb was gone.
Know that there are no silver bullets to healing, no quick fixes, but there are some things that can facilitate the journey including:
- Professional help whether a therapist, coach, spiritual advisor or whoever – the important part is that the person and technique feel safe and right to you. Seeking and/or accepting help isn’t a sign of weakness but rather a sign of courage.
- Being thoughtful about who you let into your journey and your space. On one end of the spectrum are the people who want you to suck it up and move on; on the other end are people who want to wound-bond with you and keep you in that weakened state. Seek the people in the middle, the compassionate ones who are excited by your growth.
- Honoring your journey in whatever way feels right to you. It’s important to me to acknowledge my anniversary every year. I know people who prefer to let their trauma anniversaries pass by unnoted. There aren’t right or wrongs here as long as you’re working from your authentic core and not voices whispering should.
- Perhaps most powerful and most difficult of all: Being compassionate toward yourself. If you feel like crying, cry. If you feel like laughing, laugh. Try not to judge the tears or laughter but simply be with them. Say to yourself, “This is where I am right now, and where I am right now is exactly where I need to be.”
Know that you are not broken. You are like the Japanese pottery which, once cracked, is repaired with gold and, in that way, made even more precious and beautiful than when pristine.