LEAVING IS NOT ALWAYS THE SAFEST OPTION + WHY WE STAY

LEAVING IS NOT ALWAYS THE SAFEST OPTION and I wish more people understood that.

Our nervous system is always reaching for our safety and survival. By any means necessary. Sometimes that’s fleeing. Sometimes it’s fighting. Sometimes it’s collapsing.

However you survived is brilliant, and I am sorry if you have experienced people questioning your survival.

Questions like: why didn’t you just leave? if it was that bad, why did you stay so long? . . .

. . . they’re just not helpful.

I get why people ask them; often want to find the rhyme or reason in an awful and hard-to-digest or fathom experience.

But they’re not the most supportive questions.

And. The more we know about the nervous system, the more we’ll realize that there are better questions to ask. And that, what’s more, there might be other WORDS we can offer. Not questions, just validation and support.

Because when we learn more about how our physiology is always taking the actions that help us to survive, is always doing its absolute best to get us through a challenging situation (sometimes we can get out, sometimes we find ways to stay until it ends because we can’t flee yet) . . . we know that some of the choices are a bit choiceless, and not a reflection of someone’s lack of willpower (ew, not a great take, right?), but relative to circumstance.

Seeing you in your survival, whatever it looked or looks like.

Jess

What do doorways have to do with trauma recovery?

One key component of a traumatic experience is that we are often stripped of choice. We don’t choose traumatic events, they are things that happen to us. And we often don’t get to make many choices throughout the experience. Of course our nervous system is always making the best choice that it can for our survival and well-being, but more often that not, those are limited too.

So what does this have to do with doorways and trauma recovery?

A trauma-informed approach to healing supports clients in acting from a place of agency. In making the choices that best take care of themselves. In choosing the pace that feels right, choosing what to share and what to hold close for the timebeing.

Part of this approach can be about illuminating doorways. Something many trauma survivors have in common is wanting to know where the exit is. We also might want to know where a door that leads us to connection and belonging exists. So part of our work (whether this is through self-care or with our clients) might be to find these doorways.

This isn't about knowing the best door for our clients, because we likely don’t. (Though we might have some great ideas, and those are so welcome!) This isn't about pushing them through the doorway or pressuring them to choose a certain doorway that we think is the right one.

This is about letting clients know that there are pathways that can take them deeper into the work and help them face their sensations, and pathways that can take them out of the intensity of the experience and back and to safety and resourcing.

This blog could be a mile long, because these topics are complex. I imagine you have experienced some of these things before. Maybe feeling overwhelmed by a tidal wave of feelings and frantically looking for an exit.

Perhaps feeling a readiness to spend time with feelings or unresolved trauma and not knowing where to turn for support as you do that work.

One way that we can shine a light on the doorways and illuminate choices is with our words. We can give clients and in and out. We can remind our clients (or ourselves) that yes, these feelings are here, and also there is a choice about how to engage with them. We have a choice about if we even want to engage with them.

And sometimes for survivors of trauma, choices can be overwhelming. So we might strive to be really gentle with ourselves and our clients. To make the choices small. What’s the best choice in this moment? We don’t have to solve everything in one session or one breath. But what might we need right now? An entrance, or an exit? To dial back the intensity or to turn up the volume?

Just a few things to think about. In a few days, I'll be inviting you to explore trauma informed language with me through a free mini course. At that time, I'll invite you to consider if this is a choice that serves you, or something you want to say no to. I celebrate your decision either way!

Trusting your choices and looking forward to connecting soon,

Jess

A collective pandemic traumaversary

Can you feel it?

We are hovering.

Near the one year mark of this pandemic.

Do you remember the eeriness of last year?

I remember it felt like if I looked up, it would be grey skies and crows circling.

(Which, coincidentally, is a great visual for the inside of my mind this year, more or less.)

If you take a moment, and if you want to - can you remember anything you were feeling when news of Covid-19 arrived? Any thoughts, sensations, or feelings?

The tinny, not-quite-real feeling? That time stretched molasses & saltwater taffy endless?

The alarm bells going off, maybe at first quietly, and then with shrill abandon?

The nights we scrolled through case numbers and couldn’t sleep?

The days we distracted ourselves through, shutting our eyes to what was happening?

The ways we adapted to how quickly things changed (and in some cases, should have and yet, didn’t).

How the timeline kept morphing like a kaleidoscope zoomed up into a fun house, teetering wildly on a carousel.

And that was just the beginning. Since then, we have all been finding our way through it.

I won’t lie to you and say we’re all in it together. We might not be. People are having their own experiences in their own proximity (or lack thereof) to privilege.

But I will say - we are all finding our way.

And the thing about surviving something is, sometimes in the process of getting through it, we can’t feel it completely.

We’re busy surviving. It makes sense.

Our energy has been sent other places. Like a plant with some branches and leaves pruned.

Our baseline has changed.

We have been drawing water up from a thirsty well.

We ration texts and phone calls because we just can’t even. Even and especially when we want to connect.

We are getting through it. Which is a full time job. Which means there isn’t always time to process it.

But right now, this time we are in - one year into the pandemic - there could be more coming up for you, perhaps all of a sudden. This pocket of time, the second ring around a growing tree of the-world-changing, could be called a collective traumaversary. The anniversary of something traumatic.

It’s not uncommon for this time to be potent and sharp, or dull and achy. We might return to coping we needed last year - endless scrolling and not enough sleep, or “too much” sleep and the familiar comfort or grief of isolation. Our bodies might have a lot to say. We might feel disoriented or overwhelmed or wilted with compassion fatigue for all we have had to cradle gently for a whole year (and maybe longer) with weary arms and not a lot of places to put it. We might, and apologies that this is Not At All Poetic - be depressed.

Whatever you are noticing, whatever you are experiencing, it is so valid.

If it feels right to you, here is some space to check in. A few gentle prompts.

1. What am I noticing right now? You might take a moment to connect with your body and mind, or free write a list.
   
   

2. What do these experiences feel connected to? Is there anything that’s coming up for you that feels connected to this collective anniversary we are in right now?
   
   

3. What might I need? You might need space, understanding, support, validation, extra gentleness or rest. You deserve what you need.
   

This time can be tough. I think it’s allowed to be. We’re not doing it wrong if we’re struggling.

I hope this space to check in felt helpful. We might not all be in it together, but maybe we’re also not alone in it.

If you’d like more support getting through a traumaversary, I made a guide for you. I created Tending to Traumaversaries because I know having a deeper understanding of traumatic anniversaries and all that can arise in us can feel affirming. Because sometimes, creating a care plan can soothe our worried mind. And because, we might not have access to the fullness of support we need, but a guide that can live on your digital shelf might feel approachable and accessible. Maybe it’s not really enough, because what is Enough in the world we live in, really?- but maybe it will be Something. And what if all of these little Somethings add up, like a weaving of support that can hold us as we get through?

Sending you wishes for gentleness, and honoring however you are getting through,

♥ Jess

Sometimes the things that happened to us are unspeakable but often our body knows the words

Sometimes the things that happened to us are unspeakable but often our body knows the words, holds the experience, makes muscle memory of the truth. Somatic knowing and memories are valid, even without the traditional narrative that so many expect.

In a world that doesn’t make space for survivors’ stories and truth, the body can be testament. The body can be holy ground of hot knowing and surefire knowledge.

And as humans with brains in a society that gaslights, dismisses, minimizes and pathologizes, even the brilliance of our body might come into question from our brain from time to time.

Perhaps our body has a knowing that doesn’t pour itself into 26 letters and words. Perhaps our body speaks to us through symptoms, symbols and dreams, whatever it takes to unleash the truth and dare (or hope) to be heard. However your body expresses its held experiences, this truth, your truth, is believed and held here. So are you.

Bodybased practices can be challenging for survivors

If you are on a journey of healing from traumatic experiences, it’s possible you are often coached, advised and encouraged to get in touch with your body, connect with your senses, and get embodied.

And while the practice of connecting with our bodies can absolutely be helpful for survivors, it can also feel daunting. Unsafe. Overwhelming.

I want to connect with you about this journey of reconnecting with our bodies, and why it might feel difficult. I hope these words feel supportive and helpful. I hope it comes through that I hold close to my chest the knowing that everyone is on their own journey, that this isn’t a good/bad binary, and that what feels scary at one point can potentially shift. I hope upon reading these words you are reminded that you’re not alone in this struggle, and that this particular challenge might not be a forever challenge.

When you’re ready, let’s gently begin.

Embodiment practices might feel scary or overwhelming if our body has been harmed, violated, and traumatized. Bodybased practices might not feel safe for us, and a lot can come up. Our nervous system might mobilize, and we might experience collapse/dissociation, or activation/flight/fight, just to name a few of the possibilities.

If this has been your experience, there is likely wisdom in these nervous system responses. It doesn’t mean anything is wrong with you; it might mean you need more or different supports. It might mean your nervous system needs loving attention while you engage in this body based practice. It might mean a different practice or practitioner would be more supportive to you and your process.

Part of what can be challenging is that when folks are offering bodybased practices and they aren’t trauma-informed, we might not get the support and adaptations we need. They might not have an understanding of the nervous system that they can share with us and use to support us through what comes up. They might not have trauma sensitive practices in place. And when this is lacking, and we feel retraumatized through the practices, we might blame ourselves or feel shame.

And then, maybe we avoid bodybased practices because they don’t feel safe for us. Even if part of us feels or thinks: I know this could be healing for me. I did this for a long time, way back in my healing. I could not be in a closed door in a yoga class with a group of folks and a teacher I didn’t know. I just couldn’t. I felt closed off, but I was also deeply rooted to my own wisdom. Something in me was saying: not this. Not yet.

Sometimes what feels like the edgiest lifelong forever “no” is really a “not yet” or “not like this” or “not with you”. And maybe that’s okay.

At the same time, I was working with a somatic practitioner in a relationship I trusted. Doing bodybased work in a setting where all of me could be attended to. And building up not only safety and safe experiences with this somatic work, but capacity for it, too.

I could write for a long time about the journey of survivors and trauma-informed body based practices. I wholly believe they can be so important for the healing journey. AND. I don’t believe survivors should be rushed, shoulded on or shamed. I trust survivors. When they say: bodybased work or this certain bodybased practice doesn’t feel safe for me, I believe that. It is their body, after all.

This wisdom is to be trusted. Consent is of utmost importance. Autonomy is to be nurtured. We must not try to weasel someone’s no into a yes, just because we think such-and-such thing would be good for them. For the love of Pete! ..Whoever Pete is. I have always wondered.

And in my other hand, I want to extend a small thread of hope to anyone reading who feels like bodybased practices are inaccessible. Some of them are. Right now, many might be inaccessible for you. I get that and trust that. And. Maybe there is just the tiniest possibility of building a bridge into your body, embodiment, and somatics. The steps can be small. The bridge’s material can be made of whatever you need it to be. The path might be windy, full of fits and starts.

You might not feel like you are doing much, with one foot teetering on the edge of the bridge. But even imagining the possibility of connecting with your body, for someone who has survived immense harm, is brave and huge. I see you in that. Perhaps, for right now, if this is where you are, just considering. It might not feel like enough, but with so much compassion and warmth I want to remind you that what is small can be like a stone in water, with ripples shimmering endless.

Sending you support wherever you are in this journey.

From my pond to yours,

Jess

What is a Traumaversary?

If you have ever experienced strange (or deeply familiar) bodily sensations, flashbacks, returns to old coping strategies, and waves of grief and sadness (among many other possibilities) before the anniversary of a traumatic event rolled around - you might have experienced a natural response to a traumaversary.

Traumaversaries are the anniversaries of traumatic events, and these times can be so tender and potent. A lot can emerge, including things we might have felt “done with.” It’s natural to experience flashbacks, big feelings, old coping strategies, and physical and somatic sensations.

Our body and being can remember the timing of a past traumatic event. Just as certain smells and sounds can trigger a trauma response, certain days, times of year, and holidays might bring up residual trauma and re-experiencing.

Sometimes, our being remembers concurrently with our brain, and we know we are in the thick of a traumaversary. At other times, we might not consciously realize what is happening. This can feel especially confusing and overwhelming, as the responses we are experiencing can seemingly come out of nowhere.

Everyone’s experience with traumaversaries is as unique as their being and as their traumatic experiences. And there are some common threads. If you feel alone in the struggle of making it through traumaversaries, know that many survivors struggle silently, or with those closest to them.

Traumaversaries have a tender place in my heart, and so do all of you.

In the coming week, I’m going to be sharing more about traumaversaries and offering some support around navigating them, including my upcoming guide - Tending To Traumaversaries. This offering comes from a very soft and fierce place in my heart. As often happens, I am offering you the support I have needed myself.

I hope that even if this offering isn’t right for you at this time, these posts feel supportive of your healing and can help remind you that no matter how lonely it can be as a survivor, we are never alone.

And if this does sound like something you are needing, click here to learn more. I’d love to offer up a bit of support.

Love and care to you all,

Jess