The Arc of Healing

For many years, I have wanted to write a memoir. I thought people would be inspired by my story, but I didn’t have the courage to reveal my true self. I had spent so many years as the imposter, I was not really sure I wanted to come out from behind the mask. But if I gave into that mentality, all of the traumas I suffered would eventually die with me unrevealed, and all of the lessons I learned on my journey would benefit no one. My life as an imposter was two-sided: I was a normal-appearing middle-aged woman desperate to keep my truth hidden, but simultaneously, I was an abused, traumatized person, desperate to crack open and reveal that truth to the world. Which was real, my carefully constructed outer lie, or the truth of my darkest inner depths? Frozen in my fear of either choice, I was slowly drowning, disintegrating in an inner world of despair. In a strange and beautiful moment of paradox, I finally decided that both were real. Yes, there was terrible abuse and trauma, the kind that had to be set aside just to function on a daily basis. But over these last few years, I started to realize that my darkest depths also held great truth and very valuable gifts. They gave me a kind of empathy for those suffering as I did, and a special wisdom that would help others find their way to a better life. This is the story of my progress from despair to happiness, the arc of my healing. As with every great accomplishment, there is at the beginning a magical, spontaneous moment when inertia is broken and something begins moving toward a new reality. Like a tide that has turned, there is no going back to how it was. This can be terribly frightening, like the first few seconds of a roller coaster ride. I finally had my moment while listening to an audio book, Belonging: Remembering Ourselves Home by Toko-pa Turner. I had started listening to the book months before but stopped it during an especially stressful time. I don’t remember exactly why, but I suspect it was offering truths too difficult to hold at that time. So when I started it again, I was surprised that I had ever stopped listening before. I guess I was finally ready to hear the truth. Every word seemed to be written specifically for me, whispered in my ear by a tiny golden-haired angel in a very private conversation. I intuitively anticipated and immediately absorbed each new concept. For many years I had often described myself as so injured, so broken as to be deaf, dumb, and blind, sleepwalking through my life, dragging my burdens behind me on a heavy chain. I was stumbling around on a busy interstate of dangers with no self-awareness or ability to communicate my perspective. How I lived without being killed or committing suicide is truly a wonder, maybe a miracle. Other times I felt more like an infant, a newborn, unfed, dirty, and crying out for a mother who would never come. Since the veil has lifted and I have come to see the truth of my life, I have remembered myself home. All of my senses are open and working, I have cut away the chain of my burdens, and I see exactly where I am. Having passed 60 years of age, the bulk of my life may be over. So now, I must use the time I have to write, write it all, and live the rest of my life as a full, authentic, broken-wide-open person whose story helps others with similar burdens. Forgive me if I don’t sound overly excited about this process and don’t present my story with comic flair or satiric wit. Writing my story was a long, painful journey, and I was not happy about having to relive it all again. I had to embrace the pain, but I also had to accept it as a gift. Life, circumstances, and people worked together to give me this gift, the wound of being broken inside and then mending myself back together. It is the one, the only, and the most precious thing I can give back to the world. I have chosen to focus this book on my personal journey. I have intentionally left out details about some family members, close friends, and lovers, and I changed names and locations to respect privacy. My relationships are not the focus here. I say with all humility, this is about me. Where, when and how are not as important as what and why. I thank all of my guides, earthly and otherwise, for helping me share my healing. They have shown me the importance of laying out the details for all to see and placing it in a larger landscape, with its mythic elements and archetypal characters. It is the story of many women, now and in the past and the future. I pray that it brings healing to all those who read it.