I never saw it coming …
As I sit here reflecting, wondering about all the times in my life when I had to lean into my inner core and hold on for dear life (what some people call resistance), it makes me feel two things.
My career is talking to women and men daily with dreams and aspirations in their businesses and personal lives.
It has done two things for me: it made me realize my trauma is not singular and how there really is no choice but to get through those things in life that can damage your soul.
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous about sharing my trauma or recovery from it in a book with pages to be read by anyone at any time.
Before I had children, I was much more apt to share wherever I was called to share if my story could help another.
It took many years of therapy to recover from some of the things in my life. As many traumas create the same feelings like shame, lack of trust, inability to stand up for oneself, or flashbacks of times in weakness or pain, it can be hard to decipher what experiences I was having in the now were due to what experience I had in the past.
I’ve been on the planet long enough to know most challenges, the big ones anyway can run deep into childhood wounds or at least trigger them.
Even today, as strong as I am and as happy with my life and the legacy I have built, I am human and have “those moments “ when I question my self-esteem and find myself saying yes when I want to say no or no reason what so ever can’t get a sense of my accomplishments and be proud of myself.
These might be similar to all people. I know my conversations with many other people express they can have similar experiences, but when sharing with other trauma survivors, the similar triggers make themselves known.
My years away from the actual incidents have been a time where I have gained great strength and wisdom over the results of such experiences.
Many years with a trusted therapist, classes, courses, books, speakers, groups, and other healers and healing sessions have helped me heal the wound and allowed me to stand up in my life in a way I never foresaw.
One day, I will write the whole story, but when Blair asked me to be a part of this project, the downloading I got from my divine self was that someone needed to hear that they too can recover from domestic violence like I have and not only recover but build a life of dreams and choices that you never ever thought was possible.
I want to make a notice here as I am publicly known, as well as my family, that the domestic violence I share in this book was not by the fathers of my children.
Violence was not unknown to me before I experienced it from a partner.
I know domestic violence doesn’t have any prerequisites; it can happen to anyone in any situation, but for me, it was part of my life from an early age.
I remember being 5, maybe 6, and making a clear decision in my head that my life would be completely different on many levels.
I can tell you to this day. I remember standing outside on the sidewalk looking at my home, and I said I’m out of here, and my life will never be like this life again.
Today, I can say that is true.
The road to get here has had its brambles, and one of those was my experience with violence in my love relationships.
I can say I know real fear over if I stayed, and my life would definitely be over if I left.
I remember thinking staying was actually my way of staying alive.
I remember being at work and my partner coming in and cornering me for hours at my place of work. I stood in a corner with my partner blocking me from leaving, and everyone else being just too scared to help.
I remember jumping out of the top window of a three-story home, thinking if I broke my leg jumping, at least I would still be alive.
I remember a whole bunch of friends camping on a very high cliff, on a mountain, and no one saw him push me off that cliff in the middle of the night. It took me 4 hours in the dark and in a lot of pain to climb back up to the cliff with every rib broken.
I had to pretend to everyone that I had fallen.
I remember escaping and calling the police to drive me to a safe place and the officer trying to get me to see that there was a better way to live.
I just couldn’t see it. My life just never had a strong enough experience or memory bank full of “safe” to know what that officer was talking about. I couldn’t relate, so I never saw my own way out.
I also remember being so ashamed that I covered up the stories for him, never made him at fault to other people if anyone knew at all.
I just pretended it didn’t happen. Those that did know, I don’t think, really knew what to do.
Many of “our” friends, I think, were scared to say anything in case the violence went in their direction.
I lived a quiet, painful existence and didn’t feel safe enough anywhere to go, so I stayed.
There wasn’t the information widely shared like today about others having this experience.
Like many survivors, the time came when the last hit was the last hit.
One day, for no other days reason other than the voice of his mother…
A month or so before I left him, she and I were home alone one night and had a few glasses of wine, which she never did, and she looked me straight in the eye and said you are too good for my son. I looked at her and knew she knew things I didn’t, and she meant it, and I FELT it.
My fight inside to live overrode my fear of dying. I think my soul was on its last piece of sanity, and I thought I would rather die staying or die leaving, and dying trying to leave felt like the only choice I had.
I found an excuse and held onto it like never before. I found out he had an affair, and so it gave me a justified reason in his mind (important when you are trying to leave someone who doesn’t allow you to have a voice)
Leaving wasn’t easy. He didn’t make it easy; it was haunting, and I didn’t know if I would make it out. I had to withstand a lot of emotional turmoil, fear, and unknownness, but one day I was free.
Domestic violence was a part of my life for a time, and I seemed not to be able to see the signs. The partners I chose were dysfunctional, and yes, it left scarring internal and external.
Like it or not, fair or not, for me to make sure I only had people in my life who were kind, loving, safe, and equal. I had personal work to do, and lots of it, so I did it and felt even freer.
As someone who is on the other side …. I can tell you no matter how dark it seems, no matter what experiences you have that have scorned your heart or your trust, you will recover.
Be peaceful with yourself; time will be on your side, love is available, and your soul will become wise and understand things you may not understand now
There are good people in the world, and they will one day be in your inner circle.
I practiced internal resilience, and sometimes, I don’t know where it came from. I wasn’t versed at that time in my life on meditation or any of the practices I use today. I think it was a deep sense that I had more to live for and wanted the “dream life” one day .. the family, the love, and a beautiful life.
I saw other people who didn’t have violence in their life, so that meant I could too.
Holding onto and not letting my dreams die of a different future life gave me resilience.
Just keep working on you.
Keep loving you.
Don’t let it take your kindness.
Don’t let it take you hope.
And my dear sister or brother survivor….,
Love, love, love, love yourself.
My greatest therapy has been music …. find yours.
Be well and stay groovy.
Are you ready to share your story of RESILIENCE? You can do that HERE.