The Way Out is Through

I could hear my daughter crying just outside the window of the room I was hiding in. Creeping in the shadows, I made my way to the side of the window where I could see her. She was standing in the middle of the yard, crying for me. I couldn't see him anywhere, and then I heard him coming up the stairs. Without hesitation I jumped out the window and picked her up as I ran to the cellar door. It was a maze down here; he could never find us. "Go baby, go. I am right behind you," I told her as I realized I forgot to close the door. I pulled the door closed and latched it, but as I ran down the stairs and around the corner there was suddenly a large window hole in the wall. He was standing there, staring directly at me. His eyes boring into me like lava as my heart began to race and my blood ran cold. "You can't run from me," he said as his face curled into a malevolent smile. I woke up with a jolt, that same terror in my chest. I laid there for what seemed like forever, exhausted. The thought of my daughter running through my mind; where was she down there? I needed to go back to sleep to save her. As I thought it, I had a waking dream. I was transported back to that same spot, the man staring at me. I was frozen, and then I felt small arms wrap around my leg. I looked down into her beautiful face, those deep brown eyes, and as I did she said, "We are ok now," and she slowly grew and transformed through all her stages of life up to the same age as I am. There she stood, looking me directly in the eyes. It was not my daughter; she was me. Our foreheads met and we breathed in relief as we both said, "We are safe."

This past week has been haunting. Versions of myself that are ready to rest, and the version that is ready to be released, are all clawing at my chest. I understood this dream I had a few nights ago, but the reason for it didn’t fully manifest until yesterday. Even though I touch people for my work as a massage therapist, it is not the same as being touched. I scheduled my first massage in almost two years yesterday. I was greatly looking forward to it; visions of my past self melting into a table, finding complete relaxation while I am taken care of for a bit.

My massage therapist is a wonderfully talented woman who I will see again, so this is no reflection on her but a reflection of the trauma I have been carrying around and didn’t even realize it. As I laid on the table waiting for her to come in, I felt comfortable and at peace. The second she put her hands on me, however, my world completely shifted. I could feel panic rising in me. My nervous system was screaming at me that I was in danger. Through breath and self-talk I began to relax. I had to keep telling myself, “You are ok, you are safe.” During the entire massage all I wanted to do was go home and cry. I wanted to hide. But I knew I needed this work. My arms and hands had been hurting, and it was also revealing how much trauma there was just from someone touching me.

I would like to add that I did communicate and work through these feelings with her during the session. It is extremely important to talk with your massage therapist about anything you are feeling during your massage. Massage can be an intensely emotionally therapeutic way to heal from trauma, because you, as the client, have total control of what happens during a session. It teaches you how to start setting boundaries around your body and how to speak up when you are uncomfortable. This reinforces trust in yourself and others.

My one afternoon client had to cancel, so I went and sat in my treatment room and journaled as I waited for the possibility of a walk-in. It was a nice time; I met some wonderful people and got to work through some of my emotions. I was feeling ok when I returned later for my one evening appointment. As the time of her massage came, she had still not arrived. I gave her a few moments before calling her. Long story short, that call sent me over the emotional edge I had been holding all day. She was in fact not coming in, and then said she would never schedule with me again because she had to pay for her appointment. She said I was responsible because she had not received an appointment reminder text. I kept my cool and stated that it was not my responsibility to have put that in her calendar but the second I hung up the phone, I was in flight mode.

I hurriedly changed over the room for the other therapist I share a space with. Tears rolling down my face, the spa owner gently knocked. She then offered me a spot during the Mother’s Day spa night that was starting in 30 minutes. I declined, but she said that she knew I wanted to hide, and that I should stay. That it didn’t matter that I felt gross. She even offered to wash my hair. I told her I would think about it. She is one of the most amazing people in my life right now, and to say I am grateful for her is an understatement. I finished up and decided to stay, working through my breathing so I didn’t start sobbing. It was everything from the past year really hitting me hard. I was judging myself as I walked past each mirror. I kept myself away from the ladies for the most part, except for when I kept asking if I could help with anything. Helping is my trauma response, especially when I am in a flight mode.

I was having a hard time relaxing. All I could think about was being safe at home. But part of me knew I needed to stay. Consciously, I knew I wasn’t in danger; I knew it was my nervous system reacting. I thought I had come out of eight months of emotional and sexual abuse unscathed. I was facing the hard truth that I had not. Not even a little unscathed. I was full on in survival mode. I knew this wasn’t my truth, though. I knew this wasn’t who I am or who I want to be. So I kept challenging myself. I went up to different ladies and started chatting, started connecting. I even agreed to be the model for the aesthetician doing the facial section. Then came the end of the night, a part I almost skipped out on. But my friend said, “No, I have a mat for you!” I had thought there wasn’t enough room, but she made space.

As I laid there I felt extremely uncomfortable. I could feel the weight I had gained over the last year pressing in on me, the tension I held as I laid there without sight. I began breathing and my body relaxed, and as it did I could feel the emotions swirling just under my skin. As she spoke us through this guided meditation, her words hit me hard and I could not hold back the tears that began silently streaming down my face. I laid there, still, silent, and let myself just be in it. I did hold back; I don’t break down like that in front of people if I can help it. But I let the tears flow and I let myself just be. When the meditation was over I felt lighter, less burdened, and more enlightened about everything that had transpired through the day. I had started the day in a bit of ignorant bliss and ended it in a space of deeply seeing myself and where I am today.

I want to end with this: it is easy to get stuck at this phase in healing. To not want to heal, to not want to feel it again. I get that; it is deeply uncomfortable. I choose the uncomfortable, every time. I think it is because pain is familiar to me. Like an old friend, I am sitting with it and working through these tough conversations and moments of healing, but they never come without pain. If you do get to this point of realization, seeing all the trauma operating just under the surface, you must work through it. If you don't, your body will numb and you will begin the process all over again, usually with harsher lessons. If you are in this liminal space, and you are not stuck in a trauma loop (this will need the help of a certified counselor or therapist), I would love to work with you. I would love to help guide you through. I would love to help you find the tools to help yourself, and to be an accountability partner on your spiritual journey. Because the way out is always through.

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