Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name, you are mine.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;
when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,
and the flame shall not consume you.
Isaiah 43:1-2
"I can not take away what happened to you, but I can help you live whole, healed, and healthy."
Taylor spoke those words to me on our first visit, repeating it almost weekly. It's amazing the power in words. Words can either spur us on, or tear us down. We really don't know how much power our words have. I don't think Taylor even fully grasped how much those words meant to me, they said, you are worth it, I hear your pain, I understand your pain, and I love you enough to walk this out with you. They gave me hope. Much. Needed. Hope.
Before we entered into the dreaded Memory Therapy, she took me through several exercises designed to help me express my feelings. This was the most unnatural thing I have ever done. For her to ask me "how does that make you feel?" would almost send me running out of the room.(standard answer, "I don't know") I really had no idea how to express my feelings verbally. I felt like my feelings were either silly, insignificant, or a complete waste of time. (ain't nobody got time for that) Just suck it up and move on. The problem with suck it up, it makes you sick. Eventually you will vomit it up on something or someone. Usually my poor kids or husband got the pleasure of being showered with my vomit. You can only stuff those feelings down for so long. They will eventually make their way to the surface.
Instead of verbally expressing my feelings at first, she had me paint a paper mache mask. I found this fitting, sort of the story of my life. I had mastered the mask for many years, I could paint that puppy up anyway I needed to.It was as common to me as putting on my make up and picking out what to wear. The mask went with me everywhere. It started at a very early age, putting it on to hide the pain, keep the peace, block the feelings. It was a coping mechanism.
I painted the outside of the mask to portray what I gave the world, what I let them see. That was easy, I painted it a flesh tone color, very plain, very surface, with a very big smile. I actually have an Aunt that used to say, "Audra always has a smile on." I didn't always have to fake the smile, a lot of times were genuine, but when I needed to, I could fake it with the best of them.
The inside of the mask was to be painted to reveal how I felt on the inside. I did it in fourths, one corner was black, representing the shame, and guilt. One corner was in blue, which represented low self-esteem. The next corner was purple, representing the chameleon I felt I had to become to earn acceptance (I felt I just couldn't be real).The last corner was yellow, which was hope. Hope was rising, getting bigger daily.
We went through every corner of that mask, talking about why I felt the way I did, past experiences or even current ones that shaped those feeling. It was therapeutic for me and it helped her be able to get me open and talking.
The next week we began the Memory Therapy. I prayed for Taylor constantly during this time, I am not sure how you process all you hear as a therapist and it not effect you. It truly is a calling, not everyone can do what she does, day in and day out. The size of her heart blows me away, she truly does desire everyone who comes across her path to live victoriously. She cried with me, prayed for me, validated me. I can never repay her.
Memory Therapy is just as it sounds. You recall a specific memory and you tell every detail of it. Remembering every sense of that memory, what you saw, smelt, ect. And how you felt during the abuse.This was by far the hardest part of the journey, I had lived it, survived it, didn't care to relive it through words. Apparently, it's supposed to help you heal, take back control, desensitize you to a certain degree. As I began to speak, she wrote, every word. Then it hits me,I have never spoken this out loud, or shared these details with anyone else on this planet, and will not share with anyone again. There is no purpose in sharing it beyond therapy. It was a necessary part of my healing, and thats where it stays.
I kept watching for a reaction out of her, waiting for judgement, or disgust. What I saw moved me beyond words, Tears.... she cried. She apologized to me, she hugged me.
FREEDOM... I had shared what I held most close and her hair didn't curl, she didn't run out of the room screaming, she didn't judge me. We continued on, lasting probably about 30 minutes. She explained to me that over the next few weeks she would read what she had written back to me, over and over. Now that I said it, I had to hear it.....I think this was called Recall Therapy. Whatever its called I was glad it was waiting until the next session. I was worn out. I think wrestling a 1,500 pound bull would have been less exhausting.
I went home and slept for several hours, I remember thinking, I did it, I survived Memory Therapy and I didn't come undone! God is good...
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope. Romans 15:13
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