ARE YOU BRAVE ENOUGH TO LET GO?

KEEP IT SIMPLE

I guess it’s the control thing in me, a need for complete order in my emotional hoarding mindset, that makes me pick up the tub of Clorox wipes and pull out the vacuum cleaner.  

It’s what I do when there are a thousand other things that are way more important, but I can’t seem to focus on any of them.  Yet, cleaning puts me in that very same place, simple intentions of order, turn into a list of “must do’s” that include organizing toys from the 1980's and sweeping out the barn.  

I am a list person.  Years ago, my “to do” list secretly slipped away from me and slid under the fridge.  I tore the house apart in a “mama meltdown,” upsetting my kids and bothering my husband at work, convinced that he had thrown it out.  

Three decades later, two grown kids, and one new husband...here’s my updated plan:  Keep it simple.  

Make a daily to do list of two productive, manageable things, such as:

• Today, I will write one paragraph about one thing I fear.

• Today, I will write one paragraph about one thing I am grateful for.

Do it.  Then throw the damn list away.

STOP COMPARING

One day a friend came for coffee.  It was during my children’s nap time.  Just before she arrived, I ran through the house like a crazy lady making sure everything looked perfect.  No dishes in the sink, no toys on the floor, nothing out of place.  

Ah, perfect, I thought.  

But when she stepped into my living room, the first thing she said was, “Wow, it looks like no one lives here.”

I wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or a criticism.  Again, three decades later, I can still clearly remember that day, and I’m still confused about what she actually meant.

Make a personal mantra.  Tape it to your bathroom mirror.  Speak the words aloud, such as:

• Today, I will strive for awareness.  

• Today, I will recognize that there is no need to compare, criticize, or seek control of things in my life that do not create peace in my day.

Do it.  Then don’t beat yourself up tomorrow just because you didn’t do it perfectly.

LET GO OF IT

Then came moving day.  The cellar was packed with soggy cardboard boxes of toys, a playpen with ripped padding, and cataloged containers of every school paper my two kids had ever brought home.

“Let go of it, Mom.  While you are stuck in the past, holding on to us as babies, another decade will go by.”  

That day I detoxed more than just the cellar.  It was time for a new paradigm, and while I was trying to get a grip on that newness, I cried all the way to the dump and back.

Today, my house is never in complete order, and I love that now.  We live here.  And, there are more important things to do.

Bring awareness to every day.  

• Today, I will let go of things that no longer serve me.

• Today, I will invite high vibrations of newness and wonder into my life, and I will celebrate the detox of my emotional hoard.

Do it.  Start with this powerful reminder to yourself.  

I am brave enough to begin.

THE BEST WORST DAY

It has been one full year since my memoir published.  

The day it went out into the world was overwhelming for me on many levels.  I thought I was ready.  But really, how can anyone be ready for laying out their most private secrets in full view?  And, how can you prepare yourself for what might come back in reaction to it?  

You can’t.  

You just have to go on faith, a gut instinct, that you showed up here on this earth plane for a purpose greater than the trauma that has happened on your journey.  And yet, maybe it happened with purpose.  Because here I am, with open heart, telling you about it.  And you are telling me your stories, and together we are growing in our awareness and understanding of healing from trauma.

Until recently, there were two important questions that remained difficult for me to answer.  When asked these questions, I could feel my face flush red.  I often looked away, my eyes darting, my mind wandering to where I could sidetrack the conversation.  And at the same time asking myself, how could I live it, spend fourteen years writing it, and still not know the answers?  

“What is your book about?”  

“What was the most important thing you learned while writing it?”

The morning my book flew out of my hands and into yours, was, as I said, overwhelming.  Sitting at my desk computer, I could see the link on Amazon for A Voice in the Tide: How I Spoke My Truth in the Undertow of Denial and Self-Blame.  I was excited and proud.

What a long trip it had been.  Too many drafts to count, five editors, a book-designer, dozens of ink cartridges and boxes of paper later, and there it was on the laptop screen.  My book cover staring back at me, my mother and I in front of my childhood home, and my name, “A Memoir by Nancy Shappell.”  I felt out-of-body exhilarated.  

And then, almost in that same moment, an email arrived from a long-time friend with comments on a previous blog I had posted.  

“You’re a good writer, but your words have the power to hurt.”  

My whole body crashed.  I only read that line once and filed the note away to read later, or not.

My hands were shaking so badly I could hardly keep my fingers on the keys to respond.  Did I hurt her, this person I loved, perceiving I had personally lashed out at her through a piece of writing?

Shit.  I have waited for this day my whole life and now it’s ruined.  In reaction, I internalized her statement.  I was hurt.  

I had survived so much trauma, spent years healing and writing about it, so how could this one comment take me so far down?  Shit.  I really, really believed that I was much stronger than this.

That day I heard from so many beautiful people.  People I knew, who revealed they had lived their own horrific, secret life.  People I didn’t know, also in pain, reaching out for help.  A teenager who attempted suicide, a sixty-five year old who had lived her life thinking she was crazy, a short story writer who now had belief in herself that she too could publish.

My studio phone rang.  My cell phone rang.  A best friend sent flowers.  It was an amazing first “out in the world” day.  When my husband came home from work, he whisked me out the door to celebrate.  But on our way for sushi, I asked him to pull into Burger King.  I just wanted to sit in a dark parking lot, shut off my phone, and hide.  Just for a little while. I couldn’t shake off that one comment.  Was it true?  Did my words have the power to hurt?

It has taken me one year to understand what happened that day of exhilaration and hurtful reaction.  And, what a beautiful gift my long-time friend had given me.  The missing pieces, the answers to the questions. 

What is your book about?

My book is about our internal dialogue with fear, the choices we make because of it, and how that creates our life experience.

What was the most important thing you learned writing it?

The most valuable lesson I have learned is that people can only come from their own point of reference.

So who was right?  My friend perceiving my words hurting her?  
Who was wrong?  Me perceiving her words hurting me?  
Neither.  We had both done the same thing.  

Our truth is what we perceive in a right and wrong model of interpretation.  It is our individual beliefs, based on our own past, present, or future perceived experiences.  And with this, we either shut down in fear of rejection, or open up with faith that awareness will grow.  

We live our lives according to our perceived limitations.  However, if we allow ourselves to get beyond the fear reaction and look as the observer without judgement, a perceived worst day can gift us with the best lessons of all.  And that is a huge step in our healing process. 

HOW I GOT MY MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER

Sitting on my sunny back porch, in the unusual New Hampshire April heat, I’m thinking about picking up a rake and getting to work...again, for another season.  But writing is what I do best and it’s what I love.  So back to my desk I go.

Here’s a peek into my secret and not so secret thoughts on why I need help...  

My husband, Michael, excels at many things.  

He is a top notch and awarded Volvo Master Mechanic, he can make the best curry and rice you ever tasted, and, when the Feeding America Backpack Program is passing out the list of suggested food donations at Walmart, my husband gets everything on that list and more.  

He is the most generous human being I know.  I think that is the number one reason I love him so much.  

But...and come on, you knew there was a “but” coming, even though he is cracker jack at some things, house maintenance, not so much.

He’ll admit it.  Well, he’ll admit it now.  For the first 15 years of our marriage he used the,“I’m going to do it this weekend” excuse.  

Yeah, well, in the meantime, people are asking us if our New England farmhouse is broken up into un-rented apartments because there only appears to be life on the side we park the cars on.  

There are no front steps, the bushes have grown up over the windows, and the vinyl siding is green with algae.

One date night out, Michael and I ran into an old high school teacher of his.

“What a shame,” she said, scolding her head back and forth.  “That house has been in your family since the ‘60's and your father always kept it so impeccable.  Now,” she spats boldly, “Someone else owns it and it looks horribly unkempt.  The gutters are so full of weeds, it looks like there is a garden growing on the porch roof.”  

She made a face. She rolled her eyes.

Michael and I looked at each other.  He said nothing.  

I smiled in tart sweetness, leaned over to her, and said,  “Oh, that would be us.  We live there now.”

“OHHH, ”  She said, eyes wide, her words back peddling,  “Well, I’m sure you are busy and…,”  her response trailed off as quickly as she did.  

Now, I have to say, in my own defense, I have tried to hire help.  

First came the handyman to fix the roof.  Despite the side of his truck advertising his roofing service, strangely, he didn’t own a ladder that would reach the side porch.  That was the end of him.  

Then came the football player who showed up due to a big push from his dad.  That ended with dad painting the porch ceiling, thus ending my to-do list with the not-so-interested son.  

The next to arrive was the contractor who, after agreeing to repaint our 100 year-old tin dining room ceiling, said he’d call me back on Monday.  That was last August.  

Last spring, the landscaping mow and blow guys did just that, blew the hell out of my tulips, shredding and laying them flat.  Needless to say, that three-season contract ended on day one. 

My final try was a top notch and awarded high school athlete.  He did, in fact, finish painting one length of fence after three months, two ER visits for poison ivy, and one bucket of white paint dumped on the lawn, which now remains a reminder of his otherwise good efforts.  

“It’s okay.”  I told him, “You can’t be cracker jack at everything.”

So...lesson learned.  

Why spend my time with my mind in a gutter full of weeds, shaming and blaming those with good intentions, who fell short of my expectations.  

P.S. Michael finally put up some pre-fab steps, the algae bleached out in the summer sun, and the gutter growth died and blew away in the winter wind.  

3 BIG QUESTIONS TO ASK YOURSELF ABOUT TRAUMA PAIN

Dr. Gabor Mate, expert in addiction and childhood development, says it best:

“The first question should not be, why the addiction?  It should be, why the pain?”

Has anyone ever said this to you?

“You are stuck in your victim story, and you are stuck there by choice.”

And, have you ever responded something like this?

“Whoa.  Back up, people.  Are you blaming me for my own trauma issues?”  

Reactive response, right?  Years ago, this was me.  And, I didn’t totally realize how destructive this reaction was until I began writing my memoir, A Voice in the Tide: How I Spoke My Truth in the Undertow of Denial and Self-Blame.   

When writing about my trauma, I had to face the truth in my own story.  That’s when I learned how to detox all that fear out of it, and cut ties with my destructive self-talk.

I had been stuck telling and retelling the story of how my trauma was holding me hostage to being sick, angry, and worthless.  And, in the process of telling that story, I hoped, wished, and prayed someone else would figure out why I was stuck.    

When the truth jumps up and hits us in the face, we are not always ready to hear it.  

If this is your truth, as it was mine, reacting to others with insensitive accusations of their insensitivity, then adding them to the list of judgmental jerks who just don’t understand what it’s like to be a victim, will take you nowhere but nose-diving into more shame, blame, and pain.

It’s exhausting, isn’t it?

So, where do we go from there?  

Awareness.  If we are to heal from our trauma story, we must go to a place of awareness.

Here are 3 questions to ask yourself as you begin your journey into the truth of your trauma pain.

1.  WHERE DID THE PAIN BEGIN?

Without a clear understanding/recollection of the original point of wounding/violation, especially if you were a child at the time, our trauma story, as we perceive it, becomes locked into our cellular body.  If we cannot describe how we feel, for fear of shame and blame, we hold onto it.  That trauma pain remains buried until, sometimes decades later, an emotional trigger aggravates it out.  In the re-experiencing of the trauma, again, without understanding its source, we fall into the cycle of blaming and shaming ourselves and others.   

2.  AM I ADDICTED TO THE RETELLING OF MY VICTIM STORY?

The reason we tell and retell our story is because it is what we know and it’s what we perceive as validating.  The story of how we have been victimized becomes our identity.  At the cellular level of our trauma experience, we have encoded a story of pain.  How we perceive that pain creates our story going forward.  If we see ourselves in the story as less powerful, less successful, less able to speak our voice, we are creating a scenario for more of the same because this is our familiar.  

3.  DO I HAVE HEALTHY BOUNDARIES?

This is a tough question.  If we have not had example of healthy boundaries, we have nothing to go on, right?  What we have grown up with as our normal, and continued as our normal into our adult life, may be totally feeding into that cycle of re-victimizing ourselves and we are not even aware of it.

Here are a few ways to keep yourself in check:  

• Don’t over story, and be aware of those who do.  We are all looking to be validated, but sometimes, we just need to listen, observe, and learn.

• Don’t over share.  Remember, your trauma story, which is your normal, can be traumatizing for others to hear.  It may be completely out of their wheelhouse, or it may be triggering to their own trauma that you know nothing about.

• Don’t over forgive.  Asking for forgiveness over and over is another act of wanting to be validated by someone else.  Speak from your heart, not from your fear.  Over asking for others to forgive you for overstepping a boundary, puts you right back into the victim vibe.    

Awareness is the first step in cutting ties with being stuck in the pain of our trauma. And making a choice to seek truth in who you honestly believe yourself to be in that story and why, is your vehicle of journey.