The Body Remembers What the Mind Chooses to Forget
Posted: Tuesday, April 19, 2011
by Danni Andrew
Out of the Darkness
Words cut like a knife and unwanted memories flood my mind. My thoughts race back to yester-year and I am reminded of things best left alone. Once again I am eight years old and the fear of swift and fierce retribution is at hand. Most days I am confident, and get things done in a relatively timely manner. Even if that time clock is mine alone. The childhood fears stuffed deep within the inner-most reaches of my mind are left there comfortably and hopefully well forgotten.
My mind fights to focus on the words of a man who would never hurt me, not even with words. His tone brought on by frustration at the situation I have found myself in. Rarely does he raise his voice, and never his hands. Powerful hands that can do a days work without too much effort, are typically gentle and fun-loving. I know he would not hurt me, and my mind struggles to regain the composure lost by a few seconds in yester-year. The tears come and I try to explain why his words of truth have upset me so much.
The body remembers what the mind wishes to leave forgotten. Many hours of therapy have calmed most of the memories and placed them in a perspective that leads to a much quieter life. Very rarely do I find myself with the knot in my stomach and my stomach in my throat. Very few things bring fear to my life and I know that this feeling is one that must be dealt with. I pray for calm and peace as I reassure my confused friend that I know he would never hurt me like this. That the feelings that arose have little if anything to do with him.
How do I explain memories that have been long since forgotten? How do I heal pain that has been buried for so long that I had placed their very existence in the hold file? The days of running to my therapist and crying my eyes out are gone. I must walk this road alone and it is only with the help of God and a good therapist that I am able to see these feelings for what they truly are. Irrational thoughts and feelings that were learned so long ago and still haunt my mind. It is up to me to pull myself back into today and remind myself that my Father can no longer hurt me as his passing was long ago. And my ex-husband is an ex for a reason!
I am safe in my world and have learned to surround myself with people who do not pose a physical or emotional threat to my well-being. I may slip into the abyss at times, but those times are now few and far between and I am able to see them for what they are. If my heart skips a beat and old memories bring themselves to the surface it is up to me to remind myself of the impending danger. At this moment there is none, the fear lies within me and the danger is one that I can control.
Pushing those feelings back down and putting the lid on Pandora's box only serves to give them the inevitable opportunity to rise again. Facing the memories of yester-year and acknowledging them for what they are serves to be a much more useful avenue. I feel the pain of the eight year old child. I remind myself that these memories are exactly what they are...memories! A process that could take days or even weeks to resolve in the past, now can take a few minutes to a few hours depending on how much sleep I have had.
I try to explain my reaction to my friend, yet I must remember that while he cares for me he cannot ever fully understand the path that has brought me to this place in my life. Nor, do I really want him to. He cannot be everything to me, nor can I be everything to him. I must seek counsel from other friends as none of us is an island. I cannot expect him to bear all of my burdens. It is just too much. Caring for me does not mean that I have to drag him through every square inch of my recovery process. Sometimes there are things best left unsaid, memories that are mine and should not be shared. No man can fully understand my road, and portions of the past are just simply...passed! Leave them there.
Some of the simplest revelations come in the form of my own thoughts and pondering. It is not always necessary to sound them out. While the value of the spoken word is never diminished, sometimes I just need to work it out on my own. These moments of quiet reverie are necessary for my own sanity. And, quite likely are much better for my unsuspecting friend and his sanity as well.
I have found that the value of therapy has not been lost on me. I spent many years loudly voicing my anger and frustration over the path that life has led me. Getting the anger out of my system has been a necessary road. I find myself much quieter now. Allowing myself to feel the pain and not run from it. Recognizing that I cannot change what was done, I can only change my action to it. Notice, I did not say "my reaction" to it! Reaction is typically not well thought out, while action means to act upon a decided destination.
My life may never be totally void of those small responses elicited from a tone of voice or the sound of a banging screen door. One that usually announced the return of someone feared. My reaction time is now much shorter and my actions better thought out. Hiding from the past is no longer an option and facing the future my only real opporunity. To face the world with anticipation of the next great lesson that God wishes to teach me and feeling the hurt along with the Joy reminds me that I am still very much alive. A life that God has so graciously given me.
Others who walk this path are constant reminders that the lessons learned should be passed on and the lessons I have learned are not mine alone. My decision to share my story has been one with, at times, great trepidation. My fear of looking stupid and being wrong still occupy the back of my mind. Knowing that there are those who do not understand, and do not wish to understand, often has brought silence to my keyboard. My gift of the written word could so easily be silenced by my own fears. Yet the urgency to bring my heart and soul to paper overshadows the fear of appearing stupid. My fingers have a life of their own and I am powerless to stop the words that flow onto the screen. With my heart in my throat I ignore the fear and press on.
My passed memories will never be forgotten, and the value of lessons learned from those hurts reminds me that nothing is ever in vain. I am who I am today because of the good in my life, and maybe even more so, because of the bad. My Father was a complex man. His ways of handling things were not always the best but his desire to see me grow into what God had for me took him down a path that I would not always recommend. God has a way of taking those hurts and making them something beautiful. He fills the gaps in my heart and knits together the loose ends of my soul.
My Father was a broken soul as well. The hurts in his life led him to see things in his own way and to search his own path. Whether, in his later years, he realized that some of his actions scarred me deeply I will never know. My own brokenness is not so much because of my Father, it is because of my reactions to what was given me. I am a bit more sensitive than most and things said to me affect me differently than they might others. I must constantly remind myself that my view is somewhat skewed and what I heard is not always quite what was intended. My perceptions are exactly that, perceptions. And while I see life one way, it is not necessarily the way it was intended by another.
With these thoughts in mind I must navigate this road called life. God has his best in mind for me and I may not be able to see it at this moment in time, yet I am reminded that He has a plan, and I am in it! I must also remind myself that my feelings don't always have to be on my sleeve. I must be careful who I trust with my thoughts and feelings as there are those who do not, nor do they care to even try to understand. If I share myself with someone who I know will not understand and possibly make light of my heart. It is up to me to simply no longer share my innermost thoughts with that person. I must choose my innermost friends wisely, and remind myself of who is worthy of my trust and who is not.
I am who I am, and while the thorn still pricks me in the side from time to time, it is a not so gentle reminder to not take life quite so seriously. I must remember what is important and to let the little stuff slide. I must keep my feelings in my pocket as having them on my sleeve only serves to keep me in turmoil. I must be a friend to have friends and when the Holy Spirit gives me a topic to write about, I must write! Regardless of the scoffers who choose not to understand.
(c)copyright 2011 Danni Andrew
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Top-level comments on this article: (2 total)This is beautifully written, Danni, it's really moving. You're so articulate and honest. I can relate to your experience, I know what it is to be rubber-banded back to a painful past that comes alive and superimposes itself on the present.
I've also had a lot of good therapy, with pretty much the same results as you. Reading your article made me realize how it's not as bad now as it used to be; thanks for that.
I think your decision to share your story and tell it so clearly is courageous. I'm sure it will resonate with lots of people, though. I can't imagine anybody reading this and not being incredibly moved. Thanks again.
Jennifer, thank you for your comments. I have not been keeping an eye on these for awhile as I have had some personal things going on. My Mom had a stroke and now my daughter is in a similar situation that I was in 15 years ago. Anyway, sorry for being late in my response. And thank you for reading my work. :) Danni
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