Set it Down Like It Matters

One of the life-changing days I had in counseling had to do with the essence of this message.

I'd told my counselor the story of something that had happened which was extremely traumatic for me. Someone I loved and was once very close to said something to me shortly after my father's death that was so offensive and false, that it wounded me to my core. Why? Deep inside, I was afraid what was said was true. I believed this person more than I believed what I knew about myself.

The trauma lived over and over in me, repeating itself each time the memory arose. It wasn't like it was something that happened back then, it was like it happened over and over and over. All those conflicting emotions boiling to the surface. So it was hard to tell my counselor about it, and have to live it again, on purpose.

[ That is, of course, a tell-tale sign of post traumatic stress. ]

I thought about that confession to my counselor over the following week. On our next visit, I tried to back pedal. I tried to make the person who hurt me not look like such a demon. That person isn't all bad. Lots of people like this person. This person tells great stories and is often funny and charming. This person has a good heart. This person is sincere.

My counselor looked at me and said, "I didn't see that person as awful. What I heard you say was that this person hurt you."

I burst into tears.

Yes. Exactly. Nice as that person is most of the time, that person hurt me in a way few others had. Finally, someone saw it and acknowledged my pain. I was heard. I was shown the compassion I needed in the way I needed to hear it.

My counselor and I worked forward from there. Now that incident does live in my past instead of striking terror in me in the present.

It's so darn important ...
'for someone to see the hurt done to them, and set it down like it matters.'

A former college classmate of mine, Kim Barnes, did this for herself. She's written two memoirs, the first of which was a runner up for the Pulitzer Prize. Her writing is like liquid gold. Gorgeous, lyrical prose. Beautiful, haunting descriptions.

Kim had a rough time growing up. So she wrote it out. Like it matters. The telling of her story spoke to the hearts of many.

Last month, I got a chance to talk with Kim for the first time in about 25 years. I told her how brave I thought she was to be able to 'say all that stuff out loud, to write about it.' She told me she wasn't brave. It was something she just had to do. She's a writer; she writes! Later, when inscribing the copy of her book I just bought, she wrote, "Remember that your story is sacred."

Those words have stuck with me. They've given me courage to share more of my own story here on my blog. I do it, I suppose, not so much for you readers (though I hope that some of my words will spark some reflection of your own). More, I do this for myself. I am finding my voice. My own version of courage to set down what I've learned in my 51 years ... like it matters ... like it's sacred.

Because, to me, it is.

*-*

If you want to read Kim's exquisite memoir, you can find it at Amazon.com

In the Wilderness: Coming of Age in Unknown Country
by Kim Barnes