Trauma Part 2: A Bumpy Road to Recovery
I love maps. Not the Google or Waze kind, but real paper maps. The kind that open up and show you the wide-open spaces that can be navigated, with keys, distances, and landmarks. Growing up, my big family took summer trips when my dad was on a break from teaching. Before each trip, he would take out the complimentary map he picked up at AAA, along with a highlighter, and he would color the route we would take from Los Angeles, across the desert to Las Vegas, into St. George, Utah, and across the Rocky Mountains. We always ended up in either South Bend, Indiana (yes, our summer trips were cross-country drives to The University of Notre Dame) or Warren, Pennsylvania (my parent’s home town). I loved mapping out our trip. It felt smart and safe to plan ahead, knowing where we were going and how we would get there.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have a road map for recovering from my traumatic experience. Though, I am not sure it would have made much of a difference. In my experience, moving through and beyond trauma looks more like the second image than the first.
How do you move forward when the thought of facing unpleasant feelings and memories seems scary, shameful, and causes anxiety? I believe the only way to get to where you want to go, is to accept that the road to recovery is a bumpy one, one where you may need to back up sometimes in order to go forward, or loop through the same street until can make a turn, and even after making progress towards your destination, you may find yourself back to where you started.
If you read last week’s blog, you know that because I failed to acknowledge and accept my traumatic experience as something that HAPPENED to me, not one that was CAUSED by me, I created chaos by covering my pain and shame, instead of dealing with it. This created a chain of events that led to the destruction of my career, my reputation, and relationships, which led to new trauma.
Having to rebuild a life while alone with two kids, no financial resources, and few to no professional references is not for the faint of heart. There were, and remain, moments of overwhelming doubt, severe self-loathing, profound shame, deep regret, guilt, fear… insert adjective here. I had no road map that showed me the direction to a new life. All I knew was I had to survive for my kids. I had to somehow provide and while doing that I needed to allow myself the grace of forgiveness and healing. That’s where I began.
The road to recovery required me to be determined, creative, relentless, thick-skinned, and pro-active. It also required someone to give me a second chance. In thinking about what that really means, I believe an opportunity for a second chance doesn’t necessarily have to come from someone else, it can come from you. Actually, it MUST begin with you. YOU have to accept that you are worth another shot at something; a new career, a new relationship, a whole new life. In my case, I had to own and share my story and accept the fact that I’d face a lot of set back before I made progress.
It’s been 10 years since I lost everything. Trust me when I say it has been a very rough road. I’ve made twists and turns, gone full speed ahead and have stalled. I’ve had to create my own directions, and at times I’ve wanted to ditch my car and take a plane. But, I wouldn’t change a thing. Out of that trauma came the kind of acceptance and self-love that didn’t exist before. From that, deep, honest, and loving relationships have been built with my children. I discovered a passion and found a voice to support other families like my own, and created Raise The Barr, a successful nonprofit organization that focuses on increasing economic mobility for single parent families through post-secondary education. None of these would have been realized without the pain and difficulty of the past. For that, I am deeply appreciative, humbled, and grateful.
Don't let trauma dictate your road in life. Take the wheel and full control of the journey that lies ahead. You and your children are worth it.