Be strong to Be strong

                     I have not blogged for a long time. Writing has always been something I have done for me. It is cathartic to put a pen to paper, express my inner most feelings, and capture moments of my life. I have also been a storyteller. When I was young, I would hold my mom's friends captive with elaborate stories of travels to other worlds, travel back into time, and mythical creatures. My imagination was full, thoughts always swirling in my head. 

     I would even tell myself stories to fall asleep to, and if I am honest, I still do at times. Stories are a way of escape. You can leave behind all the troubles you have, and travel to different places, different times, and pretend that you are the person in the stories. My stories were a way to express a strength in the characters that I wished I possessed. 

      I always imagined that if I could just speak up for myself, be stronger, say no, that my life would be so much better. I had the right concept, just not the strength to do what my heroines did. To voice opinions, speak my truth, set boundaries. My characters were courageous in the face of danger, while I was even more timid than a house mouse. I would often refer to myself as a door mat. Wow, seeing that in writing kind of stings.

     So, that timid mouse continued to allow others to speak over, push around, intimidate, bully, and harm her.  She walked around on eggshells always fearing that others would see her, recognize her weakness, and then pounce like a cat ready for its next victim. She always had a pit in her stomach, a lump in her throat, and like a rollie poly, was looking for ways to make herself as small and invisible as possible.

     One place I did have a voice, I found out when I was about 3 years old, was in singing. I first started singing while sitting on the organ bench next to my grandmother as she would play and sing. The songs became familiar, and soon I was crooning right along with her. I can even remember the first time someone said man she can sing. There was momentary elation that I was recognized and praised, and then instant fear set in. Why you might ask, well, let me tell you. 

     I was a child of abuse, not from my family, but from strangers. Being abused causes a reaction in your body. People who have been abused can react differently, but my reaction was fear. I learned that being noticed meant I could become a target for those who like to harm children. Those who prowl around looking for those who are timid.

     I have since learned that those who perpetrate, know how to spot a vulnerable person so easily. They become so good at detecting because they have an insatiable appetite and will stop at next to nothing to feed it. I mean, think of the big bad wolf, only they devour your very being, your soul, those very things that give a person confidence. 

     My big bad wolf came in different forms throughout my life. It set me on a path, that as I stepped into adulthood, allowed that same mentality, to continue to dictate how I felt about me. You may not understand it, because it took my therapist nearly two years to help me understand, but I felt like I somehow caused these people to hurt me. I know, looking back now I understand how that was not possible, but as child, a teen, and then an adult, I needed to blame someone for the things that happened, so being the person I had become, it stood out to me that the common denominator in these circumstances was??? You guessed it, ME! 

     So, while your sitting there wondering what is going on, or maybe how someone could blame themselves for the actions of an adult, I have studied and learned that this is common for those who have suffered abuse, physical, mental, and sexual. Yep, you read that right, even child victims of sexual abuse, will blame themselves for actions of an adult. 

     There is so much more to that, but I am not going to go into that right now. What I want to continue with is the way I changed my thought process, healed from 55 years of feeling like I was worth little, the cause of my abuse, and not able to speak up for myself. It was not easy and the work was very painful at times. 

     After years of abuse, and learning how to distract focus off of myself, I was faced with a choice. You see, I knew I was deflecting with my therapist. I knew I was throwing her off course and avoiding discussing the root of my problem. I have to give her so much kudos as she knew what I was doing, but instead of calling me out on it, which some therapists do, she allowed me to process, do other work, until the day I finally said enough is enough, don't let me get off track, here is my story.

     I will never forget how hard it was to walk through each episode of abuse, each instance when I was taken advantage of. I even remember telling her one episode and saying well I did this. She looked at me, asked how old I was, how old the perpetrator was, and the proceeded to tell me I was not at fault. I was at an age I could say no, I was nearing adulthood, but the adult who did this thing was the adult and in no uncertain terms should have done it anyways. 

     Even writing this I can feel that old familiar lump in my throat. It's almost like I swallowed something the wrong way and its stuck.  My therapist said that's because as a child, I could not speak up, my voice was silenced by the adults who hurt me. This, she explained in one of my sessions, is what causes that lump now. It's called a trauma response. It is a survival mechanism that is activated in the sympathetic nervous system. 

     In sessions and classes, and being a nurse, I understand that the sympathetic nervous system released chemicals in our body. These chemicals, cortisol and adrenaline, create a fight or flight response. Energy and anger, anxiety or panic. Now they have discovered 2 more responses which are freeze or fawn, Paralysis, numbness, or pleasing others. All of these responses can cause lasting effects in the body and I mean every part of the body.

     Our bodies if exposed to this trauma for longer periods cause trauma storage. These responses are armoring (defensiveness, shallow breathing, being rigid), weakened immune system (increased susceptibility to illness), chronic pain and disease (due to long term cortisol exposure), and finally disconnection (feeling numb, dissociation, or even a lack of awareness of body). 

     So, I continued to work with my therapist, realizing that through vulnerability, sharing of a story that to most seems like a horror movie, I could begin a healing deep within my brain, reduce that trauma response, and become a stronger adult. I had to be strong, to be strong. Strong enough to share the darkest parts of my stories, work through the fear, learn my worth, and be able to stand up to those who normally would walk all over me.

     No this was not easy for me because I am a very kind person, always thinking about how what I say and do might affect others. In my mind, setting boundaries, speaking my truth, and telling others no made me so uncomfortable. Of course I wasn't doing all of this work just to give up now. I needed to see this through because I was sick and tired of feeling this knot in my stomach and lump in my throat all of the time.

     There was a few times in my life where I stood up for myself, and when I say few, I mean very few. My therapist picked up on that and had me tap into how I felt at those times. I let her know I felt powerful, strong, confident. They were times when I was standing up for others, but I spoke my truth in those times, and was vocal, not backing down. It felt great.

     Using that information, my therapist began helping me tap into that. So, I had been working at a job where I was being treated so bad. No matter what I did, said, or the hours I worked, I was told it was not enough, I was not enough, that everything I did was not enough. I was also made to feel that if I stuck up for myself, I was I was in the wrong. 

     It came to a point where I was called into the office, others were there, I was literally ambushed by people I trusted, those I thought were my friends and in my corner. The worst part was my direct supervisor was leading the ambush. I felt that old familiar knot in my stomach, lump in my throat, and inablity to speak or move, and I had had it. I was done!!!!

     I stood up and said I am done. I walked out, completed my day, and went home and wrote my immediate resignation. It was hard because I loved my job. I called my therapist, shared my resignation letter, and for the first time in my life, I chose me. It was so scary, and I wasn't sure how it would turn out, but I trusted in God, walked to the edge, and jumped.

     What a feeling. A strength I had never felt in my life came forth and I spoke my truth. It was liberating, like a weight was lifted, and for once in my life, the knot in my stomach and the lump in my throat were gone. I could breathe, a deep, unencumbered breath. Freedom like I have never felt and a relief. It was the beginning to a new life, one I had only ever dreamed of, one where I finally had a voice! 

     I am never going back again; I couldn't with knowing what I know now. No one, and I mean no one, has the right to make you feel bad about yourself. No one has the right to push their thoughts or opinions on you. We teach others how to treat us, so I will no longer allow myself to be used as a doormat. I am a beautiful, strong, compassionate, loving, faithful, kind woman.