Everything old is new again...

I keep doing things I've never wanted to do.

This weekend I attended and participated in a workshop called, "Living with the Aftereffects of Sexual Abuse." I've avoided abuse support groups. I've tried to weasel out of talking with others about their abuse experiences. In short, being a part of a group of women who have felt things similar to what I have felt, and shared similar experiences terrifies me because:

1. It means there are many more twisted, cruel people in this world than I can comprehend.

2. It means there are women (and men) who live daily with the things I live with, which makes me want to weep.

3. It means kids aren't safe, sometimes even in their own homes.

4. It means there is something terribly wrong with our society and I want to fix it--NOW!!!

5. It makes me feel sad, angry, helpless, hopeless, afraid, frustrated, and cowardly.

But I went to the workshop anyway.

The presenter was amazing. She gently and compassionately led a discussion which allowed us to express our feelings without being overwhelmed or frightened. She was empathetic without allowing us to descend to a place from which we could not come back. She encouraged us to talk not only about the things that ached, but the triumphs we have experienced as we've tried to heal. There was extreme vulnerability in the room--as well as safety. At the end of the session, she sang us a song, a capella. Not being a singer, not having a trained nor a beautiful voice, she made herself vulnerable to us by sharing a song that was meaningful to her even though she understood it didn't show her in her best light. She hoped we would see her heart in the moment, hear her words, and forgive her lack of musical training. Because of the gift she bestowed upon us throughout the hour of allowing us to talk without despair, we did. 

For the first time in most of my life, I cried openly in public. One of the participants said, "I believe God loves us. I think he cried when we were hurt." I responded, "I hope so! I want him to hurt for me! I want him to cry for me!" Until that moment, I hadn't realized how much I wanted that. 

I was encouraged to talk of the things I've done as I've tried to heal. I expressed my anger and frustration that I must now live with PTSD which overwhelms and confuses me. I told of researching, finding a support system, meeting my cousin for lunch. I listened as I was encouraged and congratulated by women who personally understand the things I've felt and feared. No one shared stories of abuse. We talked about feelings we now experience, incidents of healing, thoughts that bring us comfort.

My perspective has somehow changed. I don't know how to explain and I need to think about it more. I don't believe I'll do this again for awhile, but I'm glad I participated yesterday. I received something nameless that I've needed for a long time.