Bumping Through the Rocky Rapids

Please note this is about incest and child sexual abuse and may be difficult to read.

I got triggered by what someone said. Before I knew what was happening, I was dumped into a raging river and riding the wild, untamed rapids of emotional upheaval. The jagged rocks of unhealed, unresolved past trauma were sharp and ungiving. I was trapped; panic set in as I maniacally flailed about, gasping for air, madly grasping for someone’s hand to pull me to safety.

I did what I usually do: I cried. And I cussed and complained.

“Get quiet,” softly whispered my inner voice.

“I don’t want to be quiet!” I wailed, arms and legs desperately grasping for the shore.

“Go with the flow and trust,” my sweet inner voice instructed.

“Can’t you just make the pain go away? Must we do this again?” The little girl within pleaded, triggered by her past, haunted by the memories of what happened.

My inner voice spoke tenderly, lovingly, “Relax. Just breathe. Trust the flow. This is how we let it go and free ourselves.”

Going with the flow takes trust, and trust is not something that comes easily to those of us who have suffered major trauma as children. As a child, we look to the adults to protect us, and if they abuse us, that innate trust dissolves. Nothing and no one can be trusted, especially not ourselves.

It took me years to trust myself and even more to trust others. What I now know is the remarkable power of trusting myself.

Going with the flow doesn’t always mean the river is smooth and delivers us to the shore safe and sound. Sometimes, we bump along through rocky rapids and unfamiliar territory. Trust says, keep your feet up, face downstream and lean back into the current. You’ll eventually get to the shore, and your life will be vastly different. You will no longer be a slave to the past.

Alone, Abandoned, Forsaken

The trauma started when I was nine years old. One day, when Mom was at work, my stepdad called me into the bathroom and forced me to perform oral sex. He told me if I told anyone, my Mom would hate me. I believed him. Mom hating me, rejecting me, and disowning me became a living nightmare that haunted me for many years.

At 19, after graduating from high school, I worked as a typist, wanting a way out of this nightmare. As usual, early one morning, my stepdad literally dragged me out of my bed and into the one bathroom we all shared. Just as he had pulled his pants down and his penis out, Mom burst into the bathroom.

She was horrified! There was a cacophony of screaming, crying, and objects breaking as they were thrown against the wall. Mom demanded that my stepdad leave, and he did. He moved into his company’s apartment in New York City.

Instead of the safety, comfort, and understanding I so desperately wanted, Mom hurled insults. Her words were like acid being thrown in my face. She screamed, saying this was my fault; I caused this, and she called me horrifying names. I was mortified. My worst nightmare was rapidly unfolding.

Mom packed up my younger brother and sister and took them to Florida. I was left alone, abandoned, forsaken. I didn’t know what to do, so I left the house, moved around a little, and spent uncomfortable nights on friends’ sofas. I was unable to explain why I couldn’t go home.

I don’t remember how long my family was gone–maybe a couple of weeks. Needing to get clothes and personal supplies, I finally returned to my house. Looking around at my family’s empty home, I realized I wanted to stay in my own room, my own bed. Then Mom returned, and eventually, my stepdad returned.

We all acted as if nothing happened. We all pretended to be one big happy family. I was lost, confused, and pretty damn scared. I tiptoed around, holding my breath, afraid to be seen, not knowing what to say or do.

Did Mom hate me? Did stepdad tell her he forced himself on me? Did he tell her he held me hostage with his threats?

I was isolated and terrified. The stench of shame suffocated and horrified me.

You took away my worth, my privacy, my energy, my time, my safety, my intimacy, my confidence, my own voice… until now. 

~Anonymous

Trust in the Flow

Shortly after their return, I packed up and left home for Colorado, the geographic cure. Through the use of drugs, sex, and, yes, rock-n-roll, I tried to forget this ever happened — or at the very least, numb out those painful memories. I married and had a kid. My then-husband and I were looking to escape our past, and our relationship served this purpose for a time. My first marriage didn’t survive; it never really had a chance.

Yet giving birth to my beautiful daughter helped me out of the stupor, and I started looking for less damaging ways to heal. After my daughter was born, I experienced a great shift in my priorities. I wanted to feel better and offer a better life for her.

This was the beginning of my awakening.

Many books, seminars, and teachers later, I have found my spiritual path and my purpose. Today, I can honestly say that I’m on the mend even within this emotional upheaval. My willingness to put my feet up, lean back, and trust the flow has led me back into healing yet one more layer of trauma.

I offer this story because I want to offer hope to anyone who has suffered abuse of any sort as a child. Working through the trauma and trusting the flow is healing and liberating.

This is not the end of my story; there is more, and if requested, I will share it in later posts. My recovery and my ability to thrive has taken time and is still unfolding. I am living proof that we can survive and thrive through incestual abuse.

My only regret is that no one told me at the beginning of my journey what I’m telling you now: there will be an end to your pain. And once you’ve released all those pent-up emotions, you will experience a lightness and buoyancy you haven’t felt since you were a very young child. The past will no longer feel like a lode of radioactive ore contaminating the present, and you will be able to respond appropriately to present-day events. You will feel angry when someone infringes on your territory, but you won’t overreact. You will feel sad when something bad happens to you, but you won’t sink into despair. You will feel joy when you have a good day, and your happiness won’t be clouded with guilt. You, too, will have succeeded in making history, history. 

~Patricia Love

Have faith in yourself, learn to trust in your ability to put these horrific events in the past where they belong. It does not serve us to carry our victimization around. Believing that we are victims only keeps us in the past and offers no escape, no hope.

There is hope. You are not alone. Please remember that. Tell your story. Tell it over and over till you are done. When you are done, a gentle peace will come over you, and you will step lively and lovingly into the rest of your life.

Even before the books, seminars, and teachers, I hooked up with a kind and caring therapist as well as a local group for incest survivors. The support I received gave me the strength to explore authentic ways not just to survive but to thrive.

Over the years I’ve gleaned some very effective tools that help me lean back, trust, and get back on my feet.

• Breathwork: simple conscious breathing helps balance our nervous system
• Movement: a slow, gentle walk in nature, barefoot if possible; consider hugging a tree
• Body awareness meditation: our bodies always inform us long before our brain when we are moving into reactivity
• Self-inquiry journaling: a personal inner journey where you reflect on what you are truly experiencing

The above offers immediate personal support, but more is better. If you are or know someone who is a victim of child sexual abuse, there is help. I strongly suggest two things:

• Find a therapist who specializes in child sexual abuse, and
• Join a support group that is specifically for incest survivors.

Resources:

Survivors of Incest Anonymous

Suggested reading: The Emotional Incest Syndrome: What to do When a Parent’s Love Rules Your Life by Dr Pat Love: https://higherthoughtinstitute.com/instructor/pat-love-edd/

Take care of yourself. There really is hope, I promise. Together, we can work to put this abuse in the past.