A journey of misunderstanding: confronting hurt, confronting truth, and finding compassion through healing.
“That’s bullsh*t, and you know it.”
The problem was, I didn’t “know it,” I didn’t even THINK it. Here I was though, in an apparently public forum being accused of lying. How did I get into this situation, yet again?
I could feel the doubt rise within me as I read and re-read the words. Although they were on a friend’s Facebook page, they were undoubtably directed at me. I hadn’t even seen them until a phone call alerted me to them. When I had typed my response to my friend’s Facebook question, I was in a sad state. I had thought someone I loved dearly was cutting me out of their life for reasons I didn’t understand. I hadn’t known my response was public. My intention of my “vague-book” response was to show I was upset, but not focus on the one who had done the hurting—or was it?
Suddenly, my mind, which was still reeling from hurt, was also filled with accusations about my motives. A switch had been flipped and my rational brain went offline. Outwardly I remained seated calmly in my recliner, my phone in hand as it had been when I received the phone call alerting me to the explosive aftermath of my Facebook post.
Inwardly, I was in a panic. I could hear my heart pounding through my eardrums, see the blood coursing through my vision, feel my breathing shallow, and taste the acid my stomach began to produce and force up into my throat.
I was being hunted. I needed to hide or run. Fighting back wasn’t an option, and I was incapable of a rational response.
I’ll let you in on a secret about myself. I lie. I stretch the truth. I make sh*t up. Not all the time, and almost never intentionally. But, when I am in a triggered state, the little abandoned and hurting part of me that is scared he’s going to die, will do what he thinks he must do to survive. When unable to physically hide from predators, he will deny, throw up decoys, or paint elaborate pictures over “reality” to show me his gruesome perspective of the world.
So, when I was accused of making up some bullsh*t on social media, even though what I had posted was truly what I thought, I unquestionably believed what someone else told me my motives were—I had cried wolf, again. I had hurt someone I loved, again. My feelings about the situation were wrong, again. What I felt no longer mattered because they were based on my lies, again.
Now my perspective on my “bullsh*t” is different. When I prepared to restore a relationship severed, I KNEW in my bones that the big bad wolf is dead. I can look back at the words that triggered the scared and abandoned exile to cry wolf and have compassion. Empathy not just for him, because he was truly hurting, but also for the one who accused me of lying out of their own pain, shame, embarrassment… whatever their motives. They too were wounded.
There is a common phrase in trauma-informed care: Hurt people, hurt people. Another, perhaps less eloquently stated phrase is: Those who are healed, heal.
You can learn more about processing your own traumatic past in my self-paced course, How to Process Your Trauma 101 (While Your Busy Helping Others). It will provide you with a self-paced guide to the essentials of trauma processing. Take as much time as you need in each of these 6 modules. Communicate with me, others in the course, or just work through it on your own.
Categories: : Trauma Processing
This books takes a deep dive into a two-year quest to rescue an abandoned inner child from the clutches of his nemesis, the Sparkly Man. Through a controversial technique called Eye Movement Desensitization Reprocessing (EMDR), the author is guided by his trusted therapist to discover a part of himself trapped in an agonizing pattern of reliving his past. She helps him resurrect his imaginary childhood friends to form a ragtag band of travelers who help him navigate through distorted memories to set his younger self free.