1. Welcome To The Lantern
Updated: 5 hours ago
** Please note: In this post, I do not describe the actual traumatic event. I never write any explicit details in any of my posts.**
Empowered Healing
This is the story of my empowered healing journey as a survivor of sexual trauma. I write from my own experience, in the act of expressing myself, despite fear telling me to stay quiet. I, like many people, have survived sexual assault, but that no longer defines me. I have learned to trust my truth and value my voice, and in doing so, to honor my courage, resource my strength, radiate my resilience, and embrace my peace. On this page, I share personal stories about my recovery process, with reflections about my healing journey. I also share my belief in the possibility of healing, and many of the resources that have aided me along the way. In addition, I share information about the nature of these wounds, and my perspective about the occurrence of sexual injury, which includes both frustration and hope for change. And very importantly, I share encouragement to other survivors, heart for anyone who has endured any version of sexual harm, and determination to contribute to the conversations taking place.
Lanterns
When I was the only person I knew attempting to recover from sexual trauma, I felt such intense isolation, even though I was still surrounded socially. I looked up into the sky and saw nothing but eternal night, when what I desperately needed was hope of reaching the dawn. I lacked encouragement about making progress as I attempted to reclaim nearly every facet of myself that was impacted as a result of sexual harm. During the relentless night, I needed to see something that could remind me of the warmth of the sun.
My first lantern sighting happened when another survivor trusted me by disclosing survivor status. That revelation brought grief from encountering another person’s trauma, and anger about how that person was treated. I also felt a sense of relief from knowing that someone else understood my pain, which helped me to no longer feel alone. Most importantly, I felt profoundly safe with that survivor, and that sense of safety granted me some peace. I’ve since experienced a similar combination of grief, anger, and feeling understood each time I've learned that others are also survivors. Not everyone I know is a survivor of sexual abuse, and I am tremendously grateful to be able to say that. Still, I am terribly distressed by the predominance of the problems that result in any person ever having reason to identify as a survivor of sexual trauma. It should never happen to anyone.
For me, the recovery process has been far slower than I wished. I developed PTSD as a result of the trauma I suffered, and the relived memories exacerbated the damage by keeping it fresh in my mind. A memory could repeat on a seemingly infinite loop, effectively freezing time while drawing it out. I often perceived time as both standing still and never ending, and it seemed that the pain would last forever.
My quest toward empowered healing has been time consuming, and it has often been tedious. It's rarely been a clear path, and it certainly hasn't been a paved one. Mostly, I've been walking in the dirt. Sometimes, the path has trailed off completely and I’ve had to create my own new path through brush and trees. I've gone off-roading through the forest a lot, always on foot. I've gotten totally lost many times, with literally no idea which way to proceed. I've even gotten drastically turned around and found myself walking in the opposite direction of my ultimate destination, then had to retrace all of my lost steps just to get myself back to the place where I started to go backwards.
I've asked for directions frequently. A few people have misled me or betrayed my trust. Fortunately, many people have taken the time to point me in the right direction, and some have even walked with me for a while. Several vibrant lanterns have appeared during times when I desperately needed hope, and have stayed with me, sometimes in spirit, during long stretches of my hike toward healing. I've been immensely relieved that various amazing guides, including those in human, animal, and angelic form, have shown up to lead me through particularly tricky parts of the path that involved more climbing with little visibility.
There were many times when I’ve stop walking and just needed to sit down and rest. There were quite a few times, only when accompanied by one of the safe and trusted lanterns or guides, that I needed a significant rest and decided to curl up and sleep for a while, knowing that they would watch over me and keep me safe while I slept. Although I've gotten tired, and I'd sit or take a nap, I never once contemplated abandoning my intention. This wasn't heroism or blind faith urging me onward. I didn't feel heroic and couldn't imagine being anyone's hero since I still wasn’t “healed.” I was aware that other people all over the world had been through all sorts of atrocities and somehow managed to keep living, to dismantle their pain, and amazingly, to shine. I didn't understand how that was even possible, let alone how to actually do that myself, despite desperately wanting to. I could not feel any certainty that it would ever get better for me, though I wanted to believe it would. Nothing about my experience with PTSD gave me any assurance that I would ever reach my end goal of being free from the residual effect of sexual trauma that reverberated throughout my mind, body, and spirit.
The aftermath of sexual trauma impacted me on such a large scale that there was only one option for me; I HAD to get past it, even if getting there took far more time, effort, and tears than I ever wanted to spend on such a process. I was committed to making it out of the forest. Often, it didn’t feel like I was making any progress at all, or if there was some progress, I could barely tell. Those times surprisingly compelled me to keep going because I couldn't stand how awful I felt. Other times, I could tell that I was at least headed in the right direction, and hoped to notice positive results in the future. And every now and again, I could genuinely tell that I had gotten somewhere that was most definitely closer to where I wanted to be.
An End In Sight
Recently, I've been startled to finally see my magical destination, still ahead in the distance, but now within eyesight. The sun is shining there and all paths are clear. I've walked for almost two decades without even a mirage, so how is it even possible that I can see it now, the place I've not allowed myself to imagine? Maybe all of that walking is indeed directing me towards the place where I want to be! This isn’t just hope telling me to believe. My intuition is also giving me the thumbs up. It's definitely in front of me now, a legitimate location where other people live! I had heard that people reached it, but wasn't sure how they found the way. The mythical place doesn’t have a tourism board that prints roadmaps, or if they do, they need a lot more funding for wider distribution, so as I mentioned, I wasn’t entirely convinced I’d ever be able to find it. Despite my continued attempts to reach it, I still feel shock about its existence. But I do now know for certain that it’s real.
The closer I get to my ultimate new land, the farther away the original event becomes and the less powerfully it interferes with my life. Originally, there was my life before the sexual assault. That was Phase One. Then there was my life after the sexual trauma. That has been Phase Two. I now have hope of experiencing a new stage of my life after my recovery from sexual abuse. That will be Phase Three. The new phase of my life won't mimic either of the previous two phases of pre-trauma or post-trauma. The first phase cannot be returned to for the simple reason that there is no way to reset to a time before I had personal knowledge of sexual harm. The second phase has been filled with terror and exhaustion, which has no place in my future. Wonderfully, Phase Three is not built from the naiveté of thinking that nothing can go wrong nor panic of thinking that things will always go wrong. Though it was wielded from the previous two phases, it does not retain their overarching energies. Instead, Phase Three will be a combination of knowledge and strength. In essence, it will be a gloriously empowered and vibrant phase of my life, one in which I will truly become familiar with and embrace what it means to thrive.
The Movement
A new motivation has emerged that compels me to describe my process so that others walking similar or even very different paths might be reminded that none of us are traveling alone. A person on such an expedition might not necessarily see others also making the trek, as such stories have long been private. If we don’t see anyone else climbing, we could easily mistake that to mean that no one else is making these grueling journeys of recovery from sexual trauma, when in fact, there are multitudes of us working toward healing from such events in our lives.
When I first became aware of a movement built around strength in speaking up about sexual abuse, I felt shock waves through my psyche, with the type of positive effects that continue to build over time. There are so many of us. We are strong. We are brave. We are powerful. We will heal. We will shift the conversations. We will be the change.
It's like thinking I’ve been walking through a forest, and then realizing I’m actually in a maze. Even if I can't see anyone else walking along the winding route I’m taking, I suddenly become conscious of others on the other sides of the hedges, walking down their own paths, also thinking they are alone in the woods. We Are All Walking Through The Same Damn Maze. Even if those trees are too tall and the bushes are too dense to see through, once I realized the extent of how many of us there are wandering through this obnoxious labyrinth, I felt bolstered by all of the survivors making their journeys of healing. It’s the same type of fuel that I received each of the times I bonded with another survivor, and I credit that fuel with my ability to keep walking through the years. This movement turbo-charged my fuel tank, and now I'm running.
This is not a competition against each other. We are not racing on opposing teams. Even if I could earn an individual medal, we don't win the championship without everyone crossing that finish line, because this is not an individual sport. This is a massive team relay race, and I am one of the runners somewhere in the middle. Some of my teammates have completed their course and navigated to the finish, but there's plenty more of us who are still due to complete the run. When I cross that line, you'd better believe I'm staying there with the others who've crossed it before me, and we are cheering on the rest of our team until everyone joins us.
One person making it out of the maze faster than another indicates nothing other than the fact that the stupid passageways try to trap people within its confines forever. But, perhaps there are tactics that can be helpful in navigating the tangle of twists and turns. Perhaps those who find their way out learn something during their endeavors that might be helpful for those who are still in it. At the very least, the people who make it through learn that an exit is possible. Perhaps the only way some of us, like myself, ever make it out is because of those that made it through before us, who called back to us to encourage us that they had reached an end and that we could too.
What if I never saw my first lantern, or any of the subsequent lanterns I’ve watched shining during my seemingly ceaseless night? What if those human, animal, and angelic guides hadn't shown up for me as I traveled through that wretched snarl of woods? I know the answer. I wouldn't now be looking at the gateway to vibrancy if they hadn't appeared in my life. I honestly have no way to guess how long I would be stuck in that entanglement. And maybe not everyone is as lost as I often felt, and I don't intend to imply that anyone's experience of recovery is a replica of mine, but I get the sense that for some, this may resonate. For some, the maze is daunting, especially since it is designed to confuse, and it takes a lot of hope and very intentional hard work to navigate through it.
So here I am, walking through my own personal version of the maze, heading toward an end in sight, and recognizing that I want more than just escape. If I leave this terrible place and never look back, I might be free from it, but I've missed an opportunity to try to ensure that others also make it out. If I don't try to send up a signal for others still walking the tree-lined corridors, I am falling short of what I know myself to be capable of attempting. Even if I can't guarantee that my signal will be seen, if I want the possibility to exist for anyone else to see it, I have to allow it to shine. Even if I have no way of knowing how best to guide someone else through their configuration of hedge-bordered hallways since I've only ever walked my own, I can describe what the process was like for me. Even if my efforts do not result in everyone making it through that bleeping puzzle of passages, that’s still my aim. We all deserve to heal and thrive.
I will station myself just beyond freedom, holding my lantern as high into the sky as I can reach. If even one person sees my signal and is in any way supported during their venture through the maze, my lantern is making me proud. Every moment I've spent on my signal is infinitely worth it because every survivor deserves hope. My hope is that as more of us send up signals, more people will see them as they try to find those elusive exits, and be bolstered to find their way out. The more of us that make it out, the better. I dare to dream that we will all make it out. I've let myself begin to imagine the celebration. It will take place during an everlasting day filled with sunshine. There's really only one way to find out how soon that party is going to begin. Keep the signals going.
**Additional Note**
If you have survived sexual trauma, I encourage you to seek support from trained and licensed professionals. I am not available for direct support, though I am committed to sending support energetically and through my writing.
Visual Inspiration
Light Up The Night
To Continue Reading
Please see my next post about the existence of sexual trauma.
Go to: 2. Sexual Trauma Is Real
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