October is Sexual Assault Awareness Month: Healing After Trauma with Help from HER: Part II

Even though I've dedicated my life to the concept of healing, after graduate school classes and lived experience, I realized just how hard of a topic this is to cover. It was important to me to share just how hard it is for a survivor to heal, and I hope that by learning about domestic violence, you understand how complex this topic is.

In order for me to share what healing is, I decided to go inward. Here is a piece of my story. Here is what healing means to me.

When I first started "healing," I thought that going to therapy twice a week was the definition of healing. But after a couple of months, I decided that healing meant doing the hard work. I condemned any Instagram post I saw that tried to convince me that healing was only spa days, bubble baths, and any other form of indulgent self-care.

But the hard work of healing is exactly that - it's hard. There is a lot of grief that comes with healing from an abusive relationship.

There have been days or weeks or even months where my excitement for life has been replaced by fear. My independence and my lifestyle have been greatly altered in order for me to feel safe. Most days, I feel drained. I'll never get back the life I had only just started for myself before I met my abuser when I was just 22 years old.

So, after sitting with that grief, I then realized that I needed some self-care or I'd lose myself. I learned to start listening to my body. At first, I rolled my eyes when I heard someone suggest that I just needed to start listening to my gut. After a lifetime of being conditioned not to listen to my intuition by abusive parents, I had no idea how to just turn that instinct back on. In fact, I was fully convinced that I would never be able to relearn that skill.

Then, one day, I started hiking with my two dogs. And out of nowhere, I felt my legs starting to run and my mind whispered to me, "Just go with it." I reached the peak and with my lungs burning and my mind foggy, the first thing I thought was "That was me listening to my body." And I'm not a runner, so sprinting up a mountainside trail wasn't something I'd normally find joy in doing. But that day, I felt an overwhelming sense of joy. My body had some kind of energy it needed to release, and I let my body do its thing.

But learning to listen to your body is a skill, and I found that I need to practice it or it tends to fade. It's not an easy skill to nurture. Most days, I find that laying on the couch and listening to "Love is Blind" in the background while playing games on my phone is how I cope with things, and as guilty as I feel about that habit, I've had to learn that letting myself rest is just as valid as the days when I put in the hard work.

I've also found that what I've heard is called the "second wave" of trauma has been the hardest for me to heal from. I spent my whole life exposed to my parent's violent relationship, so when I found myself in one, of course, it was hard, but at least I knew what to expect. The hardest part for me was the second wave of trauma that followed after I ended my abusive relationship. The trauma I endured from the court system.

The court process is something I wish on no one. It's confusing, it's drawn out, and it was life-changing in every negative way possible. It was during the court process that my story became misbelieved, mistrusted, and maligned. It was during the court process that I felt like the label of "survivor" or "victim" consumed me every day. It was during the court process that I learned that I only wanted to share my story in the presence of safe people who would honor my vulnerability and my resilience.

So let's talk about healing some more now. What is healing? There's no Healing 101 Course to take and there's no guidebook. Why? Because it's different for everyone.

The only similarities survivors might share in our healing journey are that things ebb and flow and that it's more about the journey than the destination. Because as much as I wish I could look into the future and see "Hmm... Looks like I'll be fully healed by age 45," that's just not how it works. I don't think I'll ever be "fully healed" because being a fully healed human just isn't something that exists.

Over the years of struggling with grief, the retraumatization of the court process, trying to set boundaries with my parents, and everything else life has thrown my way, relying on those pillars that We Are HER was formed by still feel relevant. Community care, trauma recovery education, and story sharing.

It's in the dark moments that I've found that having a community of other survivors has been pivotal. Having a community that understands the pain without me having to rehash it, means everything to me. To this day, I know there are people in my life I can call up day or night and have their support. Knowing that I am not alone during my healing process is actually life-saving. I saw a quote from Mastin Kipp on Instagram that goes: "Most trauma happens in dangerous, neglectful, or toxic relationships, which means most healing happens in safe, nurturing, and healthy relationships."

My friends and chosen family are exactly that to me: they are people who have proven time and time again that they are safe, supportive, and kind people, and they've inspired me to let my guard down and accept their kindness.

I wish I could tell you that my healing journey has been one where after I experienced the pain, I healed and found a life filled with joy. And for many outsiders looking at my life, they might think that's the case.

One month after leaving an abusive relationship, I founded my own nonprofit that helps survivors become healed, empowered, and restored after trauma. I'm currently a newlywed who is in a happy, healthy marriage. I have a solid group of friends. I have a great career. But in between those great accomplishments, there have been many days filled with pain.

I wish I could say my healing journey didn't include mistakes, but it has. It included a long stretch where I contemplated suicide every day. It's included another long stretch where I found the unhealthy coping mechanism of drugs. And it's included another, thankfully, smaller stretch of other things I'm still too ashamed to admit out loud. Since the trauma, I've become a very distrustful person. I wish I could be more outgoing and friendly, but my trauma has turned that side of my personality around. Every person I meet needs to earn my trust before I let them in. Even though I am healing every day, I don't get to choose when the abuse still affects me. I get to live with this for the rest of my life. I just know that it ebbs and flows. Thankfully, I am in a better spot today than I have been in the past.

Whether you're a survivor reading this, someone who knows a survivor, or someone who is trying to gain deeper clarity on what it means to be a survivor, here's what I hope you take away from this: something happened to us at no fault of our own. Someone made the decision to be abusive to us. And whether we wanted to or not, we've taken on the responsibility to start healing ourselves. We've all taken different paths to get to this stage tonight, and I hope you realize that every survivor is different. There is no "perfect" way to heal and there is no right or wrong way to heal. We're all just doing the best we can. Because at the end of the day, we get to define what healing means on an individual level. We get to make messy mistakes as we go.

So, what is healing to me? It's the moments in life when I get to be fully present - moments of joy, moments of grief, moments of anger - that allow me to get out of hypervigilant survival mode and start living my life.