Abuse Happens in Secrecy-- Healing Happens in Community

I was laying in bed in the wee small hours...thinking about my own healing community.  (Amazing how productive those wee small hours are--before I began my healing journey, I thought they were for SLEEPING!)

I have my spiritual director, who is a survivor herself, has been to Mary's Hope Workshops, and gets it.  I have my therapist who specializes in addiction, trauma, and admits to her own woundedness.  I have the members of my just forming therapy group, whose similar pasts can open windows to my own.  Then there are my survivor friends and bosses, Sherry and Diane, who can often see clearly what I would shroud in denial.  They help keep me honest, challenge me, and hold that beacon of hope for me when things seem too dark or murky for hope.  My walking partner who listens to the boring details of my daily struggles as we walk the state park with the deer and the sunrise.  My 12 step group--I share with them my experience, strength and hope, and my sponsor and buddies--they get the garbage of my life as well as my successes.  And then there is my coffee pal, who is also walking this healing journey...we share our journaling, our struggles and victories, our books, and a crossword puzzle each week.  People who call Mary's Hope for information about our workshops and our resources are part of my community-- they give me the opportunity to share the hope I have received through my work with Mary's Hope, and, through this, I more clearly see how far I have come in my own healing journey, something I often don't see without the help of another.  My pastor friend, who walks his own journey, hears me when I talk of my hopes and struggles.  Being heard is such a gift.  A few people at church know of my journey.  I am learning to be real with them.  And, my two dolls...my toddler doll, with whom I have rocked and rocked and cried for hours on end, and my infant doll, made to my birth size and weight, who has helped me connect with my newborn self, of whom I had no stories.

I have discovered, as I find the courage to continue to widen my circle--to take the risk of breaking that code of silence, to risk the wrath of those I still fear, to face my fear of vulnerability and intimacy--that the burdens I carry don't weigh me down as much.  I am able to forgive...to give another piece of the woundedness and pain to my Creator.  When I walk with another, my little inner child is supported by more than just my uncertain self.  She becomes free to walk confidently towards the light of the Holy, knowing she is grounded by a community that cares for her.                         

And that is a miracle indeed.

Elaine Oxenbury