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That is frequently one of the first questions survivors ask when they are considering coming to a workshop. The sigh of relief when they hear the answer, "No, you don't" is palpable, if not always audible.
Words are powerful things. Putting our stories into words brings the truth out of the shadows. Telling our stories makes denial and avoidance harder. It takes us to uncomfortable places from which we've tried to escape for years. If we avoid telling our stories, we can hide behind platitudes like, "It wasn't that bad." And, "Others had it much worse." If we don't tell our stories, we can fool ourselves into thinking, "That's in the past-it's over and it cannot hurt me." The truth is, while we don't have to tell our stories at the workshops, if we choose to embark on the spiritual healing journey, we will have to tell our story at some point, and likely, over and over again, bring the truths out of the shadows, and revisit those dark places which we fear the most.
There is simply no bypass route on the spiritual healing journey. The only way through is through.
For me, that meant first exposing my deepest, darkest shame (I was sexually abused as a child) to trusted friends. I had asked them to pray with me as I brought this truth into the light of Jesus. Good, safe churchy words. The fact is I didn't want to carry the secret any more. It really wasn't about Jesus-I needed someone to tell me I wasn't as disgusting and guilty as I KNEW I was. They thoughtfully arranged the room to allow for eye contact. As I hugged the stuffing out of poor Amy -the doll-- and stared at my feet in shame, I told them that eye contact wasn't a part of the plan! They held my shame in loving hands as I took that first faltering step towards healing.
Since then, supported by my therapist, my spiritual director, and loving friends who get it, I have emotionally returned to the rooms where I was abused. I have physically returned to the alley where I was abused, dropping rose petals along the way, in loving memory of that little girl whose innocence was stolen, and whom I have blamed these, oh so many years.
I have chosen to go into the depths of my core beliefs-beliefs about myself, my God, the world I live in and the people around me-and strip off the fairy tale façade and look at the very real, and sometimes painful truths. I have looked evil in the eye and named it. I am working hard to work through the pain and fear which keeps me from being present in my body-months and months of massage therapy has brought me to a place where healthy physical touch is no longer terrifying, and is sometimes pleasurable and relaxing.
I have had to wrestle with God, and my image of God-spending uncomfortable, dark time as a 'temporary atheist' while I sort thought my relationship with the Holy.
Through my journaling, I have stood face to face with my abusers, speaking my truths to them, and, after a great deal of work, beginning to be willing to hear their truths, and allowing some empathy to grow out of the stinking manure pile I've built up over the years.
Someone once asked me, "Why would I want to do all that hard work?"
The truth is I don't want to do it. I'd prefer an easier, softer way. There are many days still when DeNile, with its palm trees and sphinxes, seems very tempting.
But, for me, the key to spiritual healing is willingness. I don't want to go to those dark, hard places, but I am willing to go there, because I know there is no other way out, and I am no longer willing to remain a victim. The only way out of this one horse town of victimhood is to travel the road that brought me here.
As I name, face, sit with, work though and accept each difficult, frightening, or shame-filled part of my story, I find that it has less and less hold on my life.
The spiritual healing journey is not a cruise through the sunny Mediterranean. It is much more like an Outward Bound trek. (I remember asking a friend once why on EARTH she would want to do THAT!) On this journey, I am being challenged mentally, physically, emotionally and spiritually. It is hard, dirty and sometimes lonely work. It frequently pushes me beyond what I think I can handle. In the middle of it all, I often question why the heck I ever thought this was a good idea!
But when I emerge from the other side, it will all be worth it. For I am taking back my life. And I deserve no less than that!
Elaine Oxenbury
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