Uncovering Some More Wounds...

Last night in therapy I went to a place I wasn't planning to go. A place that seemed so far away and yet so similar to my current situation. A few of you may remember me from that time...

I was still Mennonite. It was back in 2011 when I moved to another state to get away from my parents because I realized that atmosphere at home would kill me emotionally and mentally if not physically. It was a time of my life that I haven't thought much about lately, partly because so much has happened since then that it's gotten buried pretty deep.

I moved in with an older couple temporarily while my potential place considered and made a decision. This older couple took in troubled single girls and counseled them. One of them was gone for a few weeks and so I stayed in her room. It was a basement room and apparently in the springtime flying ant-like insects would find their way in through the cracks in the basement walls. It kinda felt like a whitewashed dungeon. Also there were no locks on the bedroom doors. So one evening under my dress I was changing my underwear when the lady of the house came barging into my room without knocking, unfazed by seeing me in the middle of undressing, never apologizing, to tell me something. It just felt really wrong and made me feel even more unsafe with no privacy as I was already feeling really unsafe with no lock on the door which was why I hadn't completely undressed.

The widow lady, that was deciding whether she wanted to take me in or not, decided she would. She had Boston terrier who was still a puppy. At first it went ok. The puppy liked to play by jumping up and nipping me on the back of my upper arm or my shoulder blade area. It scared me because she told me I'm not allowed to hit the dog so I would just hunch over so the dog couldn't bite which usually left teeth marks and bruises. It was even worse when her daughter came over with her Boston terrier. Then I had two dogs jumping at me. It was terrifying.

A while after I was living there, the widow lady went to my parents' community for a funeral and an older single girl, whose name I still remember, told her that I had been diagnosed bipolar. The widow lady came back all fired up about it and started blaming me for having bipolar and that's why I stayed in my room so much. She wouldn't listen when I tried to tell her that it was because of the dog biting me. I knew it was worthless saying anything because she was convinced in her mind that I was mentally ill.

Two weeks before I was kicked out I knew I couldn't take it much longer. I wanted to keep my job but I knew I had to find another place to live. A lot of single girls lived either with their parents or with an older couple and so because I didn't know anything different I started calling around to anyone who might potentially be willing to take me in that would still be within reasonable biking distance to my job because I wanted to keep my job. Everyone said no. I knew the widow lady gossiped about me and so I feared she ruined my reputation and that's why nobody wanted to take me in.

My best friend at the time joined me for the last 2 weeks that I was there and she told me that I needed to get a second opinion to put out the flames of the gossip fire that was going on about me. So an appointment was made.

Two days before my appointment we were just getting done with supper when the widow lady told me in my friend's hearing that I need to leave. I didn't catch the full meaning of it till my friend asked me later if I had heard what she said. I felt like I had been kicked on the streets. I had tried to find a place to live to no avail and now I needed to leave but I had no place to go...I felt so helpless and hopeless.

That evening we packed everything up. The next evening she took me to her sister's house for the night which was uncomfortable because I didn't know them and there were also teenage boys around which is a male age group that I'm highly uncomfortable around...

The next morning was my appointment for a second opinion. My friend as well as my counselor at the time went with me. The doctor said that the diagnosis was wrong and that he doesn't think I need anything except maybe for sleep. Afterwards I was told that I was expected at a nearby girls halfway house that had just started up. So I went to check it out and then decided to stay there if they would take me because I had no where else to go.

While there, the widow lady called one day and wanted to talk to me. I said I don't want to talk to her but I was told that I had to. So I did, expecting nothing good. Guess what she wanted to know? She wanted to know if I was taking medication. I told her it was nobody's business but she was soooooo sure that I was. My heart sank because I realized that she would be gossiping about it and my words didn't matter.

I think that was the last time I talked to her...

After I was there a while there were more girls than one counselor could handle so she asked me if I'd be willing to switch to a new one. I did. But I've regretted it ever since. She shut me down. She told me I was just taking advantage of the church who was paying for my stay by staying instead of moving out when I expressed fear and anxiety at having a support group and living with a new family.

My stay at that new family lasted only two months before I was told I had to move. I gathered that this couple thought I was so mentally I'll that I needed help with managing my medications, etc.

So much wrongness. So much disrespect. So much lack of compassion and care. So much pain and trauma...

But there are so many similarities between now and then, it's no wonder I'm so terrified of ending up on the streets right now. It's no wonder why I feel like the shelter staff isn't on my side. It's no wonder that the thought of going to another group home or shelter nearly freaks me out...

And tonight this is the direction it went...I knew some part of me needed attention but I didn't know what or who it was.

I forget the question I was asked but it was about the part of me that might be triggered and feels so scared of ending up on the streets. Instantly I remembered that evening when I was told I needed to leave that widow lady's house over 12 years ago. So I explained all the above to my trauma professional for the context and she said how it was horrible and so wrong. It's just a part of my life and most of the time I don't realize how horrible some of those things were that were done to me and how wrong I was treated. She said you have been through so much. It makes me tear up just thinking about all you've been through.

After I explained it all she asked about where that part of me is and how I'm feeling. All I could feel and see was that one day when I was doing laundry and I heard the widow lady on the phone talking about me. I remembered the hopelessness I felt. The pain. The shutdown. My heart sinking to my toes. And I wanted to cry. I still remember my surroundings in that moment. The ugly yellow linoleum. The white trim. The Maytag wringer washer. The closet. The stairs to the basement. Seeing her talking on the phone through the curtain on the door that separated us. And me standing there wishing that I had some way of escape.

She asked me if there's anything I'd like to say from my present day self to this widow lady that had treated me so wrong. I thought a little bit and I said it is not a pretty sight at all. I was reassured that this was a safe space. That nothing was too bad because its just in our imagination and that we aren't going to do it in real life. That its just a way of releasing the harm done to me.

So I hesitantly described the picture that came into my mind. This lady wouldn't listen to me so words were a waste of my time and energy. Instead what I wanted to do was to strip her naked and tie her to a pole with her legs and arms apart so that the vulnerable parts of her body were exposed. Then the dogs would be turned loose on her. Yes, it's a horrible picture and in my heart I wouldn't wish it on anyone but figuratively she would be getting her own medicine given to her, so to speak.

In essence, she had stripped me naked by gossiping about me and ruining my reputation, leaving me trapped in the situation til she kicked me out. She didn't listen to me and she didn't care that the dogs bit me. So now it only seems right to give her a taste of her own medicine because my words are nothing to her, never were.

(I just realized that usually I have no words for the people that harmed me just things I do to them in my imagination that I think they deserve for the way they treated me. Words from my mouth never did any good in real life so perhaps that actions I take in my imagination against these people is because I finally have power to give them a taste of their own medicine. Words just don't seem to cut it. Maybe because my voice still feels powerless?🤔but I can have power to do something physically to them in my imagination??)

I was reassured that the things she did to me in a way did strip me naked by gossiping. That she has no words for how someone could be so cruel to me like that widow lady and others were to me. The kind words were reassuring and comforting. It took away the fear of my picture being too "cruel".

Huge sobs started coming to the surface. I felt the fear and hopelessness in my body of that moment in the laundry room when I realized she was talking about me. The shutdown that I felt in that moment. My trauma professional checked in with me to make sure I was still aware of where I was in the present. I was.

She asked if that younger part of me wanted to be held. I said I don't know. It just feels too scary to let someone get too close. She assured me it's ok. That it's no wonder after everything I've been through. I said maybe just sit beside me. So she did(in her imagination) and said her hand is right beside her if I want to hold her hand. I said maybe she could put her arm around me so that I can lean against her. So she did and assured me that she's right here with me and she's not going anywhere.

I said I just feel so much fear in my body. She asked where in my body. I said in my back. It felt horrible. She asked if it was possible to let the fear and tension drain out of my body into the car seat that was supporting me. I tried to envision it as she said that it flows out of my body into the car seat holding me. Flowing up and away. I felt the release in my body. I felt it draining away. Slowly. My back relaxed. Gone was the fear of human touch.

After a few minutes I started yawning. She heard my yawn and with joy in her gentle voice she said, I hear a yawn. I kept yawning and yawning. She asked if there's anything that the younger part of me wants or needs. I said maybe to just snuggle. So she scooted over and we snuggled in the moment. I said it just feels so good to be in the presence of someone who accepts me just like I am. Who sees me for who I am. And then we both were yawning. It's that co-regulation thing, she said. It felt so good. For once, I wasn't feeling awkward or like it was too much, like I sometimes do when hugs get long...just knowing I could be myself with no expectations helped me be in the moment, "snuggling" with another human being who was okay to just "be" in our little space together in our imaginations. I think it was very healing, reaching to a depth that had not been reached before. Wholesome. Healthy. Life-giving. Energizing. It is amazing what goodness can come from a caring, compassionate person who is willing to just hold space for a hurting person who is trying to heal.

This morning I feel more whole. Connected in spirit but separated by many miles. Able to face my week with a bit more courage and less fear and anxiety. I'm going to try to add 4 more hours to my work week and I'm a bit worried as to how that's going to affect me. But I also feel more hopeful and like it won't be quite as hard and traumatic to keep looking for a place like it has been. It's just a matter of figuring out how to find that place. But there is a place somewhere with my name on...I just have to figure out how to get there...but not alone...because there's a growing number of supporters who want to help and support me in my journey...

So now I'm going to paint that picture. Not for revenge. But to take back my power. That widow lady may have rendered me powerless and voiceless then but now it's her turn. She treated me horribly and this painting is how she made me feel. I felt trapped and unable to defend myself against the dogs and she refused to hear me. Now it's her turn. I deserve to be treated with kindness, compassion and respect. And since my words meant nothing to her it's time for action. Me standing up for myself. Me defending myself. Me releasing the trauma and pain she caused me...so that I can be free...