Behind Closed Doors

I've found her, finally.

Kind of. I guess I should say that I found where she lives. And before I carry on here I should definitely tell you what I'm talking about!

This is not the time for the origin story of the trauma of my life so lets Coles Notes it and I'll let ya know that my story is similar, sadly, to that of many of us. Sexual abuse and domestic violence are not uncommon. Talking about them still seems to be but I'll leave that for another day before I digress.

The immediate, three-dimensional, real life threats have been gone for the better part of 10 years now but damn, girl, I'm still deep in my healing. Time moves as time moves. And energy and emotions move in their own ways. I'm just learning how to ride the waves.

So who is this 'her'?
I can hear you asking as I type.

For years I've been working on feeling safe in my body and challenging my knee-jerk, automatic tendencies I have to dissassociate when the waters get too rough.

• therapy
• coaching
• books
• podcasts
• music
• journaling
• art
• peer-reviewed journals
• formal education
• conferences
• meditation
• energy healings
• akashic past live clearings
• yoga classes
• crossfit classes
• float tanks
• incense
• crystals
• puppies
• solo travel
• nature
• did I mention books?

I've thrown the works at this and there's always been a block in my body. Right below my diaphragm it gets dark and dense. A true no-fly zone. Hasn't mattered how many guided body scan meditations I tried. Hasn't mattered if I relaxed and got soft or if I got aggressive and ran at it full speed. I was not allowed in that space. 

Until last week.
Last week while my coach was leading me through a guided meditation I was able to track the warm glow around my heart as it descended into my womb-space. I almost didn't want to look incase I scared it away! 

At first I didn't see much but pretty soon I found a secret hidden black door on a black wall. She is in there. She is me. Well a version of me anyways. 

She is the me that got hurt one too many times and now lives with distrust and fear as her bedfellows. She's found a room where she knows she is safe and with her mastery of self-reliance I doubt she'd ever leave without an invitation. Truthfully, I don't blame her. Her and I share the same memories. And they're fucked up.

Now that I found her I'm committed to getting to know her, on her terms. So I've set up two of the comfiest chairs and a little table with flowers and room for a couple of cups of coffee right across from her door. We aren't on speaking terms yet and that's ok, she can take as much time as she needs.

I know my job right now is to rebuild her trust in me.