Embracing a Life of Calm and Wellbeing

The hard part of healing is that we have to change the old patterns that feel normal to patterns that don’t. To move forward, we have to live in a new way, embracing new beliefs and behaviors. This is not easy to do. We have internalized trauma memory (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, PTSD).

Athletes, musicians, and artists depend on muscle memory. Figure skaters practice for hours to perfect a jump. They come to the point where they quit making it happen and let their body do what it has been trained to do. When a female skater goes through puberty, her physical changes require her to re-teach her muscles and how to jump or spin. This means a lot more practice to replace the former muscle memories with new ones.

It’s a much bigger job to put internalized trauma to rest and replace it with feelings of well-being. Some of us never lived in a relationship that was nurturing and gave us a sense of safety, self-value, and self-respect. We repeatedly pick partners who abuse because the chaotic atmosphere feels “normal”. The change we must make isn’t a minor adjustment, we are replacing a way of life with a whole new set of beliefs and behaviors. 

While we lived with abuse, we became hyper-vigilant. Our bodies responded to our partners’ every tightened muscle, piercing look, and change in demeanor with the fight or flight response. Cortisol, the stress hormone, surges in our bodies. Over the years, the trauma has lodged in our esophagus, squeezed our hearts, and filled our heads with fear-sodden thoughts. So it’s not surprising that when we see or feel something that even slightly resembles one of those danger indicators, our bodies and minds automatically catapult us into our terror response. 

It will take time—a lot of time—and courage to change things. We need to be kind to ourselves when we fall back into those old behaviors or find the disparaging self-talk has taken over our brains again. I assure you, this will happen with less frequency as time goes on and we relax into a sense of calm and well-being.

We’ve spent a lot of years hiding our vulnerability, knowing that it would be exploited if uncovered. To have a truly intimate relationship, we have to be willing to face this fear and share our feelings. This requires speaking openly and asking our partners for clarification of their actions or comments that felt hurtful to us. When we share how it impacted us, we help our partners understand what we are dealing with and that we are doing our best to not react in the old ways. They need to know that our healing requires their help and patience.  

Our partners’ reactions can be a real litmus test of their character. Do they respect that we are taking the lead in our own recovery and their job is to run alongside us, cheer us on and follow our lead? Do they use our vulnerability against us? Do they try to take control and “fix” us? We understand that this process can be frustrating for them. But, if their reaction is, “Just get over it,” we have all the data we need to know about our partners’ intentions.

Most important, we have to trust ourselves. Be strong enough to walk away if we realize that this partner isn’t empathetic, doesn’t see us as an equal, and isn’t willing to work with us to build a solid relationship that meets both of our needs. We were brave enough to leave our violent partners, now we need to be brave enough to speak up and create the life we’ve always wanted.

Numbing Out - Once a Gift, Now a Burden

Numbness is well known to those of us who spent years rubbing shoulders with vulnerability and fear due to a violent partner. These two terrifying feelings grip us when control over our own life is snatched away by a power seeker. Distressed and helpless, many of us sought to avoid our unease with busyness (work, volunteering, over-commitment), junk foods, alcohol, sex, or drugs, in an effort to assure ourselves that what happened doesn’t really matter and to let it go. We’d flip the feelings switch to off and slide into grayness.

In the beginning, these periods would often last for a couple days as we walked through the motions of our lives, pretending things were normal. But we weren’t there. We were hiding in the heel of our existence, waiting for the warmth of feelings and color to slowly bleed back into our perceptions. As time went on, the periods between the violent incidents shortened, and the abuse escalated to the point where the warmth and color never returned. We stayed an empty shell, wearing our smile mask, doing and saying the things we were supposed to, unable to feel anything -- especially happiness.  

We left our partners and swore that we’d never let anything make us feel empty and cold again. Free, we celebrated and marveled at the sound of giggling children, the blue of the sky, the deep greens of the forest, and the scent of spring coming. Yes, we would leave the grayness behind. But, starting a new life was difficult and painful. Stress weighed heavy and our old friend numbness, lurking about our elbow, seemed the only manner of relief. Our response? Grab the alcohol to take the edge off, eat our way through bags of cookies, or the most dangerous thing - a new partner - anyone - just someone to carry part of the load for a while to give us a moment to breathe. 

Even when we come to the point where our lives putter comfortably along or take a spectacular turn for the best, out of habit, we slide into the depths of grayness when triggers or ripples of unease appear. When a friend doesn’t immediately return our phone call, we worry that they are angry with us and rush to our feeling-avoidance activities for relief. We don’t want to feel uncomfortable feelings: sadness, grief, loneliness, anger. “My life is great now, I should be happy,” we say, “Haven’t I suffered enough?” 

Yes, we have suffered enough. Yet, we are left with this distorted response to anxiety. When our experience has been that even the smallest annoyance ballooned into horror, how do we live with any level of unease? How do we evaluate what is minor when what we’ve lived with is the off-the-chart fury? As a result, everything feels major. 

We know that life brings both happiness and sorrow. How do we buddy up to discomfort without allowing it to overtake us? How do we learn to live with some unease alongside the ease, and even see it as necessary to add depth to happiness? 

Can we catch ourselves before we do that backslide? Instead, look at our desire for (the numbing habit of our choice) as a warning that there may be some smoldering feelings that need to be addressed, or perhaps it’s just a medium issue that needs a little attention? Can we talk ourselves down from the cusp of grayness and put healthy habits in place without allowing them to become unhealthy? Think dieting that becomes anorexia.

To break the habit, let’s be aware when we reach for that bag of chips, find our eyes bloodshot from hours of staring at our computer screens and gadgets, or open a bottle of wine. We need to ask ourselves, “What is driving my desire to numb out?”  Suppose we find a quiet spot, sit and allow the feeling to billow, even if it brings tears. Let’s ask ourselves where this issue really falls on a scale from 1 to 10. If it’s toward the high end of the importance we can see a therapist. If it’s on the lower end we can talk to a friend or write in a journal, freeing our frustration and pain. When we allow ourselves to feel discomfort and fully experience it, we can pass through the darkness and leave it behind. Fully felt, the feelings dissipate. No longer do we drag the pain along like a ball and chain, or toss it over our head like a veil, distorting our view. Instead, we give due attention to both happiness and sorrow, ribbons of awareness that enable us to feel the full spectrum of what it means to be alive.