I remember very distinctly the day I knew my Mum was paralysed. My Dad sat down and told me and my brother. The accident, that wasn’t just the couple of broken ribs he’d mentioned a few days before. He’d gotten to a stage where he’d had to tell us the truth. Dropping us into school late. Every kid in school starring at me as I walked to my desk. I was numb, I didn’t know how I was meant to react. I didn’t really understand what it meant. Confessing it at break like a secret. Unsure if I should actually talk about it, or stay silent. I didn’t really understand what this meant, my mum would never walk again? What did that mean to her, me, my family? The other kids in class unsure what to say. The one memory I have, other than silence, was of another child saying ‘I think you’re lying for attention’. I’d play that over and over in my head thinking this meant something about my character. I was clearly an attention seeker who could have the wherewithal to make up that kind of story.
As I grew older, my Dad died. And I went through the same rounds again. As an adult, the same happened when I was suddenly separated from my ex- husband. Again and again the round- about would roll. I would enjoy telling the stories sometimes. I would enjoy the attention. I enjoyed being the victim, being the hero that overcame these trauma’s. I would rise up like a Pheonix, against these impossible challenges. People would either be uncomfortable, share their own secrets or tell me how amazing I was.
Going into counselling, I would feel vindicated when I would have the odd snippet from the counsellor telling me I was right. I was justified. I would analyse these points over and over again. Somehow justifying my self-worth, or lack thereof, from people’s reactions. But always after a while I would get tired of these repetitive conversations. I started to see the drama this created around me like a whirlwind I couldn’t escape. A storm of my own making. Never ending questions, how was I feeling? did I ever recover? did I understand why this happened to me?
Continually talking about this, kept these memories real for me. It made it my identity. It became who I was and I kept it alive. I found people would tell me how to deal with my own experience (having never experienced anything like this, themselves). They simply wanted to fix my ‘perceived painful story’, or enjoy the salacious titbits of these traumas.
Then there are the trauma’s I don’t speak of with others. But I talked to myself about it incessantly. I used these experiences to characterise myself as a villain. I had deserved and brought these experiences onto myself. I deserved to be attacked and abused. Being brought up a Christian, I believed that I deserved to burn in hell. That I had been born with sin. So therefore I deserved to be treated in the way I was.
All of these spoken and unspoken traumas became how I defined myself. This person I projected is also how others defined me. How I was a creature to be pitied. A remembrance of how lucky they were in their own lives. Surely I must have brought it on myself right? But also perpetuated an idea that I somehow could magically advise others on how to ‘cope’ with trauma. That I am resilient, because I survived. All of this giving power to memories that I do not enjoy. Simply put, my body reacts when I think of these memories. And when my body reacts, occasionally I sometimes have these memories float through my head. So what do I gain from talking about these memories? What can I win from advising others based on my experiences?
Now give me a second to deviate! I promise to come back to the topic!
Have you ever stood at a bus stop waiting for that one bus to come? Its like an hour late, then all of sudden 3 of the same ones turn up together. Well, these memories are like these buses. When this bus comes along, you might not see if for a while, but it all comes at once. Thoughts themselves are like the buses. Sometimes there’s a lot of the same buses. Other times there’s only an odd bus. Traumatic memories can be like a never-ending stream of the same bus. It leaves you with only one bus to get on. You cannot control which bus turns up (but you can look up the bus schedule).
The point about trauma though, is that this happens all the time. A trauma to one person, is something easily forgotten to another. I’ll say this once, there is NOTHING wrong with how you REACT. There is NOTHING wrong with what you FEEL. All thoughts, feelings and reactions are normal. The difference can come into what you chose to do about your thoughts and feelings. But the truth is, you do not have to do anything about these. And you cannot do anything about these thoughts and feelings come and going.
Trauma has happened in my life. And trauma will come again, I am certain of it. The difference between waking up to life, through the Words of Magic that Max runs, is that you see a memory is just a thought. And you know that a thought is just a thought. The power of this comes because you know who you are. You know the ground of your true nature. Otherwise, this will all be just knowledge to you. And trauma will continue to impact you through your life. I am free of all of this, I have no interest or need in counselling. I do not make problems out of my past. Nor is this who I am. And I know this, because I know who I am. So I invite you here, now, don’t you want to be free? If so, you know where Max is.
Come to know the Light of Who you are, for There is Nothing Else to Know!
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