For a long while, it felt like my trauma was my life. I remember walking into therapy and my therapist telling me, “This is going to get a lot worse before it gets better. Can you commit to that?”
I did. That day, I knew I needed my trauma to not consume me anymore and I saw my Therapist as my only way out. She was trained as a trauma specialist to help me process the hardest, most damaging thing I had ever been through.
Healing took longer than both her and I ever expected. There were deep rooted pains that were hard for me to let go of. Sometimes, even still, I wondered why I couldn’t let go. Why was I double fisting my pain, the memories, the experiences. I even thought sometimes that something was wrong with my body or mind. That thought was scary.
The place I wanted to arrive at that seemed so unreachable was a place where my trauma was not the cause for every hard day, or inability I had in my life. I would love to tell you two or three specific things that changed my life and allowed me to do that, but I’m not here selling a product. I can’t promise you solutions. That’s God’s job.
What I will do, though, is share the reality that with a lot of effort, time, and determination to arrive at this place, I can honestly say my trauma is not running my life any longer.
Now, I think of my trauma as something that happened. It is a part of my life that largely affected me, to say the least. But that’s all it is, a part of my life.
This morning I was sitting cuddling my 16 month old, which looks more like a wrestling match of mom tickling him so hard his body squeezes and squirms. Then the small moments when I pause the tickles, he rests his head on my shoulder with a sigh of relief that’s bigger than he is. It’s like he is home. That level of safety I feel in my life now. The joy of being a mom, spending time with friends without being entirely consumed with anxiety, and an entire hour, day, week, life of not being triggered, all of it is something that for some time was so unthinkable.
This kind of joy is the joy on the other side of trauma. For me, reaching this kind of joy was worth every terrible therapy day, every time I felt like I was going backward instead of forward, every intimate moment with my loving spouse that got interrupted by a haunting flashback, every day where I couldn’t do what I used to be able to do just fine, every moment where I felt utterly alone, abandoned, and afraid and so much more. This kind of joy is accessible in this life.
If you read that and just thought, not for me, think again.
You are the exact person that God wants to work with. You aren’t exempt from having joy. I wasn’t and I am no more special to God than you are.
You are not alone, I promise. I am so sorry you’re going through one of the most difficult of things. I feel for you. I really do.
Sending God’s healing love to you today & praying that you feel hope toward the joyful life you were meant to live.
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