Post Traumatic Growth

Posted on by stilllearning2b

One of my husband’s “ah-ha” moments came in his early adulthood when he caught a snippet of an Oprah show. The guests that day were two brothers who had endured horrific abuse during their childhoods. One became the epitome of success, applying discipline and intentional effort to all areas of his life, which resulted in a fulfilling career and marriage. The other turned to drugs and crime to fuel his addictions. By all measures, his life was tragic and wasted.

Oprah asked each brother in turn, “Why did you make the decisions that you did?”

Both brothers answered the same, “I had no choice.”

But that’s not really true, is it? They had no choice, no agency, when it came to the abuse they suffered. The damage caused was real and significant for both of the men. Yet as they left childhood and began to make their own lives, they did have a choice –

They could allow what happened to become a limitation, using the damage as an excuse to whither and self-destruct.

Or, they could choose to view the traumatic childhood as a trial, a training ground to learn how to avoid falling into those same unhealthy patterns and instead, grow from the experience.

I highly doubt that even the successful brother looks back upon his childhood with fondness. I suspect that even while he attributes some of his fortitude and wisdom to the abuse he suffered, he still would not excuse the actions of his parents or wish the same on others. However, he probably understands that good things can come from bad situations and that, while he was helpless as a child, he is not helpless now.

I think sometimes we conflate growing from trauma with excusing the trauma. As though by finding positive change we are discounting the impact of whatever happened to us. It can be challenging to hold both things true at once – it was horrible and yet it also provides opportunity for growth – yet that is so often the case. Using trauma as a springboard for positive change doesn’t mean the actions that hurt you are okay; it means that you are determined to be okay despite the actions.

Nobody would ever choose trauma as a mechanism for growth. We all would prefer to learn to swim under the patient and kind tutelage of a coach, yet sometimes the tsunami forces us to learn before we are ready. We can allow ourselves to go under, cursing the relentless wave, or we can use it an opportunity to learn how to paddle like hell in order to keep our heads above water.

You DO have a choice.

You cannot change what happened.

But you can change how you view it.

Is it going to drown you or train you?

 

You Are Now Exiting Survival Mode

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I can pinpoint the exact moment that I transitioned from survival mode to full-on living. It was over a year since my ex disappeared and several months after the legal divorce. I was alone in the woods, about 2 miles into a 6-mile trail run. I came around a bend in the trail and Lake Allatoona was spread out before me, the sun reflecting off of its placid surface.

I stopped. Took in a full, deep breath of the cool pine-scented air. A sense of calm spread through my body as I stood there taking in the sights.

I had made it.

Not just to the lake. Or the trail. But to the other side.

I took one last look at the water, re-tied my laces and set off to finish my run. For the first time in over a year, I felt really and truly alive.

_____

Whenever we face a life crisis, we have a tendency to shift into survival mode. I like to equate it (for those of you that are old enough to remember this) to rebooting a computer in safe mode. The machine works, but its applications are limited. Instead of a screen filled with color, you’re presented only with white images splayed against a dark screen. You’re both relieved that the machine isn’t dead and yet you become frustrated with its limitations.

Survival mode for us isn’t much different. Our world contracts, focusing only on the most important things. We feel muted as our energy is devoted to only the most basic of life’s functions. And we’re vulnerable, because while our full operating system is struggling to come back online, we’re at risk from even the slightest threat. So in response, we batten down the hatches and increase external security.

As with anything, we can acclimate to this survival mode, becoming comfortable in its limited scope. It becomes a habit. Until something jostles us back into awareness and we realize that the immediate crisis has passed.

We forget to breathe.

We forget to see.

We forget to fully be.

We become so focused on living that we forget to live.

Pay attention and you’ll know when it’s time to exit survival mode.

 

Living With Loss

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I received the news yesterday that an amazing former student lost her life to cancer. The message wasn’t a shock, as I had known about the particularly brutal illness, but  advance knowledge of death only softens the blow as much as tacking a blanket to brick wall before a car slams into it.

It still takes your breath away.

I’m numbed right now, as the names and faces of all of the students and former students gone too soon keep tumbling through my brain. I grieve for their families, grappling with accepting the impossible. I grieve for their friends, trying to figure out how to assimilate this into their life script, balancing loss at the same time they’re ready to step foot into independent life.

I relate so much to these kids because I lost too many friends at a young age. By the time I left high school, the death toll had reached eleven. Eleven. Some were suicides, many accidents. One was a homicide committed by another friend. Yet I still managed to hold onto that sense of optimism that permeates youth.

Until that one October day when I called a high school friend from the hallway of my university only to learn of two more deaths.

I cracked.

It was simply too much. I remember quietly weeping while on the phone. And then, after hanging up, wiping my eyes and deciding that I was done. Not with the tears, but with letting myself be hurt. In that moment, I made the very deliberate choice to create distance from the friends in my life, only allowing my boyfriend (and future husband) to have access to my heart.

It made sense, I reasoned. After all, letting in these people caused pain. So I would head it off at the pass.

No love, therefore no loss. A simple calculation with unexpected results.

Years passed. I made new friends, unattached to high school and untouched by the curse that seemed to befall my alums. Yet I still remained guarded, feeling protected in my little bubble where only my husband resided.

And then I lost him.

The bubble burst. The walls cracked open. I realized that by striving to avoid loss, I had been avoiding life. It’s like protecting a smart phone with a case so padded that the device isn’t fully operational. It may not crack if dropped. But at what cost?

Again, I made a conscious decision. Only this time, my choice was to never again run away from connection because of the fear of loss. This time, I vowed to stay open, to be in the hard moments, even when they take my breath away.

So now, when I have to say goodbye too soon to another student, I feel grateful that I had the honor of knowing them and I try to help their friends make a different choice than I did all those years ago.

Loss is a high price to pay. But it’s the price of living.

 

 

Exercises in Vulnerability

Posted on by stilllearning2b

After divorce, we often enter a protective state, curled inward and walled off to the outside world. And without practice, we soon forget the critical skill of being able to be fully seen by another. And so that which was advantageous at first, eventually becomes limiting as new relationships cannot fully form when you are wrapped in your emotional armor.

Not only is it scary to immediately open up to others when your heart has been shredded, it can also be risky. Sadly, there are those that look for wounded souls and advantage of your weakened state. Yet if you remain hardened to all encounters, you risk losing the ability to be vulnerable as you become accustomed to your “Nothing can touch me” state.

There is a middle ground. Places where you can practice being open while at the same time ensuring your emotional safety. The following are exercises in vulnerability that maintain your strength and flexibility for when you’re ready to put it in action in a new relationship.

 

Therapy

This is one of the key benefits of therapy. In many ways, the relationship you have with your therapist within the safety of their four walls gives you an opportunity to practice with a trained professional before you bumble through it on your own in the world. They know when to push you to open a little more and sense when you’re flooded and need a breather. In contrast with the other strategies, this one directly addresses vulnerability and allows for an outsider’s help and perspective.

 

Massage

This was a key part of my healing from my own divorce. Abandonment had left me traumatized and fearful. I scheduled a monthly massage with a trusted therapist for those first several months. The safe, nonsexual touch helped me learn to relax in front of another person, which I knew was going to be critical for my future wellbeing. We NEED touch and when you’re having trouble trusting people in your life, massage can be a safe way to meet that need.

 

Time With Kids

Kids have a way of worming through our emotional defenses. Willing to say it like it is, they call us out on our stuff and their own openness and honest curiosity helps to make us feel at ease. Now obviously, they are not the ones to divulge all of your thoughts to, but you can learn how to relax and let yourself feel without passing judgement.

 

Online Groups

Whether a structured support group or an anonymous account on Twitter, the internet offers myriad opportunities for you to flex your vulnerability muscle. This is an environment where you can be completely open, yet also feel protected behind your screen. Be cautious if you’re not in the relative safety of a private group and you’re still feeling pretty fragile, as here there be trolls.

 

Book Clubs

Book club discussions often allow ways for us to talk about how we relate to the literature, which can be a way of talking about your feelings and your experiences through the book. This round-a-bout arrival can often feel more comfortable than a direct approach. Plus, you also have the opportunity to learn that you’re not alone with these feelings.

 

Self-Doubt During Times of Change

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I spent some time this morning journaling about self-doubt. And since this is a common reaction during periods of change and divorce certainly qualifies as a major life renovation, I decided to share my thoughts with you –

  • Self-doubt is a normal, natural and expected part of any transition.
  • It is temporary and it’s worst at the beginning when there is more planning/expectation and less progress/action.
  • Be careful not to feed your self-doubt. I have noticed that mine is fed through certain Facebook groups, information that feels overwhelming and conversations with people that either dismiss or amplify my anxieties (it feels best when people both hear my fear and also express their belief in me). I need to consciously limit my exposure to these, especially when I’m feeling more doubt.
  • Fears WILL change over time. What seems the scariest right now will become less intimidating and then new fears will emerge. Again, normal.
  • Hard is not impossible. We teach this to kids all the time. We may be older and more set in our ways, but the concept still applies. Besides, anything worthwhile in life takes effort.
  • What real evidence do you have to support your self-doubt? Probably less than you initially think.
  • What other times did you experience self-doubt? How long did it last? What did you do right to get through it? How do you feel about that scenario now? I reflected back on when I first started teaching (which was terrifying). The self-doubt built as I finished my degree and I went through the first few months of teaching feeling like an imposter. I did quite a bit right – I had mentors, I listened to lots of advice (and generally tried it to see if it fit before deciding if I should keep or discard it), I gathered an abundance of information, I made connections and I kept going. Now, teaching is automatic and I feel extremely confident in any related environment.
  • Take it slowly. It’s an elephant. Don’t choke.
  • Seriously, take it one day at a time.
  • After all, it’s not like you have a choice in that.
  • Unless you can go into suspended animation and awake only when the transition is over??? (If anyone knows how to do this, please message me.)
  • List your skills and strengths that are going to help you through this. And no, self-doubt is not a strength.
  • Confidence building will be important critical. What makes you feel confident? For me, I need a combination of things that get me out of my head (exercise, I’m looking at you!), things I’m good at and things that make me feel more secure.
  • Unplug. Take a break. Step away. Pushing all the time doesn’t make you stronger. It makes you tired.
  • This is exciting!!! No, really. That feeling in your stomach? That’s enthusiasm, not dread. You have an opportunity to learn, to grow, to challenge assumptions. You are entering a new world. It’s time to explore.
  • It’s an adventure. Be curious about what might lie around the next corner.
  • Self-doubt is not a stop sign. It doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong. It’s only a sign that you’re doing something different.
  • Big rewards only come from risk.
  • Besides, things change no matter what. Isn’t it nice when you at least get to have some say in them?
  • You got this.
  • No, really. You do.
  • Your self-doubt is kind of like that bitchy girl back in middle school who puts everyone else down because deep inside, she’s really insecure. Your self-doubt is speaking from its own fears, not your limitations.
  • One day, you will feel comfortable and confident about this and wonder why you were so silly with all this angst.
  • You. Got. This. (and I do too)