“It’s amazing you survived. How come you’re so…normal and happy?”That’s what people say when I tell my story: parental neglect, sexual abuse, homelessness, being trafficked. 

My answer? I never gave up on me. 

Why? 

Because I wanted me. I wanted to believe I was good, even though I felt worthless. Flute playing helped. As a homeless teen, I carried my flute everywhere. If a place had good reverberation, like an apartment vestibule, I’d take out my flute and play. Shower stalls were good places, too. Rocky canyons, pedestrian underpasses. I couldn’t read music, but I had a good ear and could improvise melodies. Every time I held the flute to my lips, I escaped the pain for a little while, and something beautiful escaped from within me. The music I made was like a life preserver in a tumultuous sea. When I put my flute away, I always felt a little better for a while.

After months of listless wandering about the country as a high school dropout, I realized that was a dead end. I returned home to my mom’s new apartment, my parents were divorced by then, I was enrolled at a new high school, and I joined the band program. Because I couldn’t read music, I sat in the second-to-last chair in the worst band. But I wanted to be good at flute playing, so I asked my mother if I could take private lessons. (She knew nothing about the survival sex or being trafficked, and I didn’t tell her; she didn’t ask.) She said okay. 

It’s amazing how far a little praise and attention goes

I blossomed under the attention of my new flute teacher. It’s amazing how far a little praise and attention go. Under her tutelage, I progressed through the ranks and eventually made it to first chair in concert band, then skipped symphonic band altogether and landed in the honors band. I became co-first chair, soloed with the school orchestra, and earned a music scholarship at DePaul University. That was over fifty years ago. I teach flute to this day.

While flute playing has provided stability over the years, as well as satisfaction, it isn’t the only reason I feel sane and well-adjusted today. Good therapy has been essential. Finding a good therapist takes time. I went through several until landing on one I stayed with off and on for over twenty years. 

I learned that you must interview therapists, try them out for a few sessions, and see if they speak your language. I tried several and was unhappy with all of them. Then I remembered a dream workshop I went to where the speaker, a Jungian analyst, interpreted a recurring nightmare from my childhood that had haunted me for years. She said it was a dream about the imbalance of power: People/things that shouldn’t have power, did (me as a little girl), and people/things that should have power, didn’t (my parents). She said the fact that I remembered it all these years later meant that it still had significance. Boy, did it ever. It became a theme of our working together, uncovering all the ways I was given too much power as a child, all the ways I was treated like an adult when I wasn’t one.

In addition to therapy, many spiritual practices have provided insight into my pain and soul. Growing up, my family didn’t attend church. As an adult, I picked up prayer and meditation on my own. Also, reading tarot cards, the I Ching, Celtic runes, walking a labyrinth, yoga, and qi gong. I practiced Catholicism for a time. Then Unitarian Universalism. You name it, I’ve probably dabbled in it. Then later in life I discovered S-Anon, a Twelve-Step program (which is, essentially, a spiritual program) for those affected by another person’s sexaholism. It has been key in helping me to understand the sexual abuse of my childhood and teen years, and has given me a community of people who share this issue. I am no longer isolated by my memories. 

Working the Steps and Traditions of the Twelve-Step program has enriched me in so many ways. I already believed in a Higher Power, but the words of Step Two: “Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity,” are my rock. It’s a promise that is continually fulfilled. Because let’s face it, even after achieving stability, we all fall apart now and then. But the pieces lay scattered far less longer than they used to, and sometimes, it’s only for moments.

People of integrity who inspire me and give me hope

I also have a deep gratefulness practice. I love the site grateful.org and met the founder, Brother David. I surround myself with, and am attracted to, people who have deep spiritual practices, people I admire and look up to. Lynn Twist, who founded the Soul of Money Institute and the Pachamama Alliance, is another mentor, as is Roshi Joan of the Buddhist Upaya Center in Santa Fe, New Mexico. These are people of integrity who inspire me and give me hope.

And so, while I had a rough start in life, as many of us have, I’ve made peace with my past, as I believe we all can. It takes work and dedication—it requires a commitment to ourselves. And it is so worth it. In my Twelve Step program, we end every meeting with the Serenity prayer and these words: “It works if you work it, and you’re worth it, so work it.” 

I am very happy. I have a good life. I’ve done incredibly bad things, have made poor choices, been done to as a victim, and done to others in my pain and rage, but today I am free of all that. Self-forgiveness is key. And I wouldn’t have found self-forgiveness and self-love without hard work, perseverance, and the determination never to give up on myself. 

Through it all, flute playing has been a constant. It still gives me joy. So many things do. But flute playing gave me a goal, something to work towards. I didn’t understand until many years later that I am inherently good, even without being good at playing the flute. I am good because I am me, and I have so much to be grateful for.

As Brother David says, it isn’t happiness that makes me grateful; it is gratefulness that makes me happy. 

Photo by Javardh on Unsplash

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Polly Hansen