The ability to heal is within all of us

I think it’s rare to come across someone who has lived the perfect childhood and had the perfect life. After all suffering and adversity are part of being human. Sadly none of us can escape from that. The truth is every person has their own unique story. I’m going to share with you part of mine. I’m doing so because I strongly believe that sharing our stories can not only help others, but is also a way of finding our own voice. We all have the ability to heal inside us and the first step is speaking our truth.

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Holiday Memories

We were excited. Usually a holiday meant he was in a better mood. There’d be long days on the beach building sandcastles, playing in the sea, hunting for crabs in rockpools. We’d get an ice cream in the afternoon. My favourite was the “99” with a Cadbury’s chocolate flake in it. Every time we went I’d make new friends. For some reason it was easier on holiday than at school. I remember our little dog, a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, always being a wonderful icebreaker.

We hadn’t got far. I can’t remember what it was that set him off this time. It might have been a fight between me and my sister or maybe it was something my mum said? Maybe it was just a noise or someone disagreeing with him. What I do remember though is the breath-stopping fearful anxiety that descended in the car as he angrily lashed out, yelling, driving erratically, informing us that if he crashed it would be our fault for making him angry. Then, turning the car around and telling us we were going back home. The holiday was over before it had begun.

Scared to breathe

We remained in silence while he berated whichever one of us he was angry with. I remember feeling relieved and smug when it wasn’t me, but resentful and angry when it was. It seemed I was more worried about the unfairness of being singled out than I cared about what he was actually saying. I was used to his tirades of angry criticism and being called all manner of names anyway.

Too scared to speak, we hardly even dared to breathe in case the slightest noise angered him more. We weren’t entirely sure how far he would go when really pushed and we weren’t planning to find out. We knew apologies would have no effect. Neither would reason. Our only option was to remain as silent as possible and hope he would change his mind. Of course he always did, once we had learned our lesson, which I assume was to remind us that he was the one in control.

Walking on eggshells

I don’t know if he was a narcissist, for I am not of course a qualified psychologist, but from what I have read, I believe the possibility is high. Our home revolved around him, his needs and his desires. We went largely unheard and unseen. Walking on eggshells would be an excellent way to describe it. His reactions were unpredictable. We never knew what we’d get. We tried hard to avoid conflict at all costs, but we were kids and sometimes it was just impossible.

Defiance

I remember once when he was out we decided to watch TV. We weren’t allowed to do anything without permission, so this was quite rebellious of us. We decided to risk it anyway. Unfortunately he came home early! We saw him coming and rushed to turn off the TV and race back to our rooms. But we were too late: he caught us. He was furious, absolutely seething.

At first he yelled and ranted for a while, but then he did something he hadn’t done before. He told us he was off to Clifton Suspension Bridge. Then he stormed out. For anyone who doesn’t know, this bridge in Bristol, UK, is where people famously go to commit suicide. My ten year old sister was in floods of tears. At fourteen I suspected it was a manipulative tactic to make us feel bad and guilty. Still, part of me was scared he meant it. Our dad was going to kill himself and it was all our fault. What was wrong with us?

Stepping out into the world

There were many occasions like this; too many to recount here in a simple blog post and some too painful to share publicly. Ultimately, l left home for university at 19, severely depressed, underweight and feeling like I was essentially unlovable and flawed at my core. It felt like everything I did was wrong. It makes me sad to think of all the opportunities I missed because I closed myself off from things, believing I wasn’t worthy of them, including romantic relationships. As you will know if you have read my previous blog posts, I spent most of my adult social life using the crutch of alcohol to numb my fears and self-hatred. 

Japan

I’ve always believed coming to Japan was my destiny. I felt this inexplicable pull here, even before I really knew anything much about the place. It doesn’t make much sense, because I grew up hearing war stories from my grandfather and he was not exactly affectionate towards the country or her people. I don’t eat seafood, so the thought of sushi or sashimi didn’t really appeal either. However, something deep within me told me to come here and so I did. Little did I know at the time that I would make Japan my permanent home and raise my children here.

I believe my natural instincts were to get as far away from my home situation as I could. It was a matter of self-preservation. If I hadn’t left and gained distance and perspective on my life, I don’t know where I would be mentally now. I realize that I essentially saved myself and I have my intuition to thank for that. It is truly amazing and a testament to the innate survival instincts we all have inside of us. I believe if we look deeply enough, we know what is right for us. The key is whether we choose to listen or not.

Facing the truth

I didn’t realize there was anything wrong with my childhood until I was an adult. For me, it was my reality and just how my world was. I didn’t know any different. It had always been drummed into me that what went on at home was private, not to be discussed outside the home. So, I didn’t really talk much about it to anyone. Certainly in my older teens though, my friends knew my dad was “difficult” which was how I used to refer to him. The word abuse was not in my vocabulary at that point though.

Two years ago, the first time I talked about what happened to my friend and life coach, I watched her reaction to my account of my home life, almost with bemused fascination. It hit me hard. I went away and researched. I found the courage to look up the definition of child abuse and found myself checking box after box. Yet still I didn’t admit it fully to myself. It was hard to admit and I felt guilty for doing so.

Then, needing to hear it clearly, I asked her outright. Was it abuse?

Absolutely.

It was a life-changing moment.

Reflection

Later, from reading more around the topic, I realized that what she gave me in that moment was validation, something I had been sorely missing. Basically it’s acknowledgment and acceptance of your feelings and experiences. It isn’t about someone necessarily agreeing with you. It’s about feeling heard and seen and that you matter. In fact it is a vital part of healthy relationships, leading to better emotional regulation. Not feeling validated can contribute to many mental health conditions, including depression and anxiety.

A relationship with a narcissist is in essence being in a relationship with someone who will never listen to you or hear you.

Dr. Ramani Durvasula

My experiences happened. None of it was my fault. I was only a child. I didn’t make him shout or kick things. Those were his behavioral choices and he was the adult. I deserved unconditional love and acceptance, the chance to make mistakes safely and to grow and learn from them. Every child deserves this. Instead I entered adulthood uncertain of who I even was, nervous to form and share my own opinions and full of self-doubts.

The healing journey

How do you consciously heal a traumatic childhood? This is where it can get tricky. We aren’t factory cars with trouble-shooting manuals. Each of us is unique with a plethora of individual experiences, emotions and reactions. I believe my healing journey actually started the moment I stepped foot out of there and it continues to this day. However, some moments do feel more prominent than others. One significant step might be to look at a specific problem you are experiencing right now and to choose to do something about it.

I experienced a great shift when I recognized that performance nerves were holding me back when playing the piano. I simply wanted to be able to perform better. This is actually what led me to reach out to a life coach and ask for help. Looking at where my lack of self-confidence stemmed from, inevitably led me back to my childhood. It was relatively easy to make connections and understand why I was reacting the way I did to things. It was harder to imagine anything ever changing though.

Complex PTSD

For the first year I didn’t feel like all that much was actually changing. Looking at my past led to me falling down terrible rabbit holes where I would drink, withdraw from friends and even self-harm on occasion. My emotions surrounding my past were so buried it was overwhelming even scratching the surface sometimes. My self-talk was abysmal. One tiny thing would trigger an emotional reaction that seemed way out of proportion and I would end up berating myself for being so stupid and flawed. I thought I was going crazy sometimes.

Then I came across a book that changed everything for me. It was called Complex PTSD, From Surviving to Thriving, by Pete Walker. I learned about emotional flashbacks and it explained how something relatively small could trigger one and take you back to intense feelings of abandonment or fear linked to traumatic childhood events. This could lead to intense fight/flight/freeze instincts kicking in, which were a childhood instinctive coping mechanism.

An example of an exaggerated response I had as an adult, was my reaction to car doors slamming. My father used to get very angry if any of us slammed a car door. For several years into my marriage if I accidentally slammed one, the old familiar sense of absolute terror and dread would overwhelm me. I would freeze, then after no immediate angry reaction, start to apologize profusely to my husband – who would simply just shrug and say what’s the big deal?

How did recognizing I had complex PTSD help?

Until I read this book I thought there was something wrong with me. I thought I was over-reacting to normal things and that I needed to hide it as much as possible or else people would think I was crazy. In fact, I tended to hide most of my feelings as much as possible, for as a child they had been dismissed, frequently mocked and more often than not later used against me. Showing feelings wasn’t safe. I buried them so deep, I wondered if I even had any sometimes.

Now there was an explanation for it all. There was absolutely nothing wrong with me. I was reacting in a normal way to an adverse situation, because that is how children cope. It’s simply a survival instinct to protect ourselves the best way we can. I cannot tell you how much of a relief it was to understand this and to stop beating myself up for being flawed.

I began to recognize my triggers better and to implement the advice given by Pete Walker in his 13 steps for managing flashbacks. For me just knowing what was going on made a huge difference. All of this though took place in combination with working on self-reflective spiritual courses, with the help of extremely supportive friends. It is most definitely not an overnight process and I still have a long way to go. However, compared to where I was two years ago, I will say I feel like I’m in a completely different place now.

We all have the ability to heal

I have been feeling a little nervous about sharing my story. However, I feel compelled to do so. I don’t wish to be anything but authentic and honest, in my writing and in my life. I’ve spent enough time hiding away trying to please other people. Now it’s time for me to step out and be me.

There are so many people out there hurting, trying to find a way to heal. I hope they will feel encouraged to keep moving forward one tiny step after another. It may feel impossible sometimes and the road may seem to fork back on itself far more often than you’d like. However, if you keep going, one day you WILL break through the clouds and see the world from a new perspective and realize just how far you’ve come. It’s part of our human journey to overcome suffering and you are so much stronger than you probably know.

The ability to heal is within all of us.