Lost in the Woods: An Inside Look at the Fractured Experience of Trauma (as published in The Friday Edition of HeartBalm Healing at https://heartbalm.substack.com)
INTRODUCTION: In the previous Friday Editon, I wrote about The Downward Spiral of Flashbacks & Dissociative Episodes which is very relevant to this writing and why I wanted to give this brief introduction on today’s offering. As I looked back on when “Lost in the Woods” was written it is apparent that I was still in a dissociative state because of its recent date, subject, tone, and my faint memory of it. I highlight this to showcase how even in the grips of reliving complex trauma, we still move forward, keep creating, continue moving through life, and survive amidst the chaos, fog, fear, worry, and depression that come with flashbacks and dissociating. Because I write for a larger audience to help heal and bring understanding to subjects and experiences related to living with a condition like CPTSD I want to offer this personal experience. This is a deep dive into the experience of reliving the trauma, of facing our fractured parts, watching how they operate and exist, and the intense struggle, profound pain, and creative and herculean healing efforts that come with healing complex trauma.
Often my healing process is to move closer to the pain, see what is playing out, the characters that are present, allowing it all to be there even the horrifying parts and pieces of it. I am then able to try and bring in a non-judgmental, loving, and benevolent part of myself to begin the process of saying “enough” to the inner critical part. This entire technique is not easy, and I do not always have the strength or energy for it but I must have had enough frustration and wherewithal on this occasion, and thankfully captured it on paper.
I feel scared, humbled, and grateful to be able to share this with you and hopefully give insight and understanding of the trauma experience as it is unfolding. And, to urge everyone to write, journal, and befriend your frightened inner child(ren) and yourself, and to see the story playing out in order to bring wisdom, love, and understanding to its unfolding narrative.
This speaks to the inner battles that rage within us as we try and live life. We may be conscious or semi-conscious of them, or totally oblivious and unconscious of these internal wars. These inner battles bring fear, shame, blame, and devastation that can spill out into our daily lives and retraumatize us, and wreak more havoc. I had to find a different way and this is part of my ongoing process for I must meet them over and over again until they are resolved, loved enough to heal or dissolve of their own accord. There should be no shame or guilt in being a trauma survivor when it is known how difficult life can be for those that must live with the aftershocks of trauma, abuse, and neglect, and heal from it with little help and resources.
Lost in the Woods: An Inside Look at the Fractured Experience of Trauma
Lost in the woods she reverts to her survivalist nature of hypervigilance and hyper-attunement. She becomes highly sensitive to all sounds, sights, others, tastes, and sensations. Her only knowledge now is walking the tightrope that is her world in this moment. She is trapped in the darkness of her surroundings and wounds where no parent comes to support her, help her, or save her. Even as an adult she reverts to her old role of mother to herself – a child mother trying to navigate a terrifying world.
I cry for her – I yearn to hold her and help her – give her all of the things she needs – all of the things as an adult I would offer a wounded, scared, desperate child. Yet, I can’t always reach her in the deep dark jungle where she wanders alone. Her focus becomes a terrorized march to figure out the map that she is lost in – yet there is nothing there to map and no direction that offers respite. She grasps and reaches for knowledge, and understanding – curious about this sparkle of light, or that change in the storm. She reaches for anything that might give her a sense of how to survive this place and how to find solid ground again.
Her mind rages at the injustice. Her heart aches and closes down in defiance of letting anyone else in that could upset and ignite the inferno that sits in embers ready to alight at a moment’s notice. She loses patience for herself – unable to work out which way to go and how to be safe. Her anger is total. Angry at those that would leave her lost in this no-woman’s land, searingly judgmental of her own failures to find resolution and understand this hellish existence, seeing her own finger pointing back at herself in blame, shame, and anger. There is only this place of emptiness – no heart, exhausted, drained, and failing body, a mind emptied of options, and a hopeless bid that there is anyone left in the world to exorcise her from this land of demons and lift her back to the light of Love’s embrace, and freedom.
The flood of thoughts and feelings of this child-mother have overtaken all reason, all mechanisms, and sense of being from the adulting being and threatens to obliterate everything – pointing to the finality of burning it all down to stop the pain, the loss, the war within that stirs the wars without. There is no peace in her being – no peace for herself except for the sliver of light that never leaves and gently expresses and shares its ceaseless love. It is an opening to remember herself again. To step away from the role she has taken on of mothering her own self that sounds equal to her own mother abuser.
A gentler voice beckons to stop and look again. Look again at the innocent child that feels lost and at war with herself and the world. To see herself again as found, loved, loving and loveable, adored, grounded, safe, and protected. To feel the truth of these things rather than the hellish beliefs put on her by others and accepted as her responsibility to own and therefore become. She is asked to find peace with her own feelings instead of beating and berating herself for having any. She has had to be her own maternal source using the language of hatred, withholding, judgment, severe criticism, shame, blame, guilt, and manipulative maneuvers learned from the mother abuser – and now using it against herself. The child was only able to go as far as the parents would allow. Her stubbornness and creativity kept a small sliver of light in view but so often overwhelmed by swaths of darkness that blotted out all light that tried to find her.
She is drowning in her own wounds. Losing consciousness and life as she succumbs to the travesty of believing that as her own family tried to destroy her for so many years it would have been better if they had. Left to her own devices, her own fractured mind and thoughts, her own darkening world of lost and alone, and not having enough strength to find herself again – she wanes. She lets go and sees the futility of fighting. The enormous cost to mind, body, heart, and soul with each falls back into the abyss to find the way back is beyond herself – beyond comprehension, logic, and reason.
It is here that her limp psyche is lifted to a higher view. She can see the infinite jungle below – thick and impassable – with no vantage points to gain insight or find clarity to take the next step. She can see the point in the middle of it all where she is lost – and high above the enormity of finding her way out looks impossible and never-ending. Her place in the deep forest is a ruse to keep her in the game. A ruse to keep her small, feeling unsafe, and not risk getting close to anyone or holding onto hope of something better.
Her mind, like the jungle, is so tangled, overwhelmed, and intent on creating more complicated twists and turns that even with an overview of clarity it is still impossible to find an open space to be still and find rest. This maze of loss and seeking a way out, exhaustion, and terror holds her body in debt and draws on her strength, energy, and health. Even with light and lucidity offering their hand the toll of her yearning for survival and righting feels out of reach. Giving over her hand to the light is surrendering her life; a life even in tatters, shredded, and in chaos, her body ripped, stabbed, and bloodied is still hers. She has given a fight of a lifetime to have her own life, her own way, and be free of those who used her to blame, hurt, exploit, shame, manipulate, judge, and silence her so they didn’t have to feel their own anger, shame, and hatred. A sacrificial lamb grown into what?
She is ready to give over. Ready to accept the hand of found, of love, of freedom and being. Yet, her own maternal terrorizer still holds her back. She can feel the deep intensity of this force. The flailing, screaming, angry one that still hangs on to her with both hands. If she accepts this force dies. This powerful place of pasts lifesaving remedy has turned jailor and tyrannical protector. It is strong. It is vicious. It is determined. The beauty lies in its intent to keep her safe, protected, and alive but not its mother-abuser tactics of harassment and hate. She is no longer willing to be bullied by the angry voice of herself as child-mother. She is ready to let her go and find peace within herself.
She reaches out and accepts the loving hand of light – the offer to let go and allow herself to melt into the flow of life even if that means letting go and death of her fractured self. She feels her world opening up and growing brighter. There is a lightness in this place of submission. She is never hopeful but curious about embracing Now as the only place that exists and allowing the threads of the past still tied tightly to her ankles to drop away and never find her again.
She is learning to find peace in herself and her feelings. To accept, love, and nurture her own wild, creative, singular self with Love as mother and guide, and accept her own hand to hold in the infinite space of Now.
From the perspective of Presence, you do not heal ‘from’ trauma. Rather, you simply reconnect with that Sacred Place ‘in’ yourself that was never traumatized, never broken, never damaged in the first place; your true Self, absolute and ever-present, uncorrupted and free. Is not a destination; it is You, alive and awake in the safety of the Present Moment. Never truly broken, and utterly Unbreakable…
_Jeff Foster, “The Way of Rest: Finding The Courage to Hold Everything in Love”
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Sunny Lynn, OMC is a spiritual counselor, writer, poet, photographer, meditator, and nature lover on a mission of transmuting complex trauma through self-love, healing, and bringing balm to hearts everywhere. She has a blog and podcast – HeartBalm at heartbalm.substack.com that speaks on the topic of self-care and self-love, mindfulness and healing while living with CPTSD.
This an amazing work. Art is so healing. The rushes of words made me feel the pulse of what makes us human. The blood pumping through our bodies the sincerity of the emotions made me feel connected to all the others going through their own process of healing. Feels a little less alone tonight.
Thank you – your words are beautiful and appreciated. Art is healing! This space is a wonderful place to come together and feel less alone. Understanding and shared resonance are ways of opening our hearts and minds and reminders that we belong to each other and are never alone.