Life in a House of Mirrors

There are three things I remember about my one and only visit to a world's fair:  the revolving restaurant at the top of a tower, bumper cars and the fun house.  After tiring of the long lines at the first two attractions and in an attempt to escape the oppressive heat of a South Texas summer day, I wandered into the fun house.  It was full of mirrors that reflected my image in a distorted way--in one I was short and fat, in another tall and lean; one reflected a nose that dominated my face, in another I had no nose at all; in one mirror I was far away, in another I was up close and personal.  And many years later, it occurs to me that much of life is often spent in front of funny mirrors; our internal world is often a house of mirrors and we do not realize that the reflections they are providing are distorted and manipulated and do not reflect reality at all.

Fun mirrors make small things larger, large things smaller, distort and contort and make the grotesque appear normal. According to Dr. Patrick Carnes, "Betrayal and exploitation are like being in the fun house.  It makes the abnormal and the grotesque appear normal.  Trauma distorts our perceptions just as sure as the mirrors in the fun house." (Betrayal Bonds, p. 199)  But it seems to me that the vulnerabilities that make it difficult to resist those internal fun house mirrors are created quite early in life.  Even in healthy, fully functional families, shame thrives and children are inevitably wounded.  A child is always less than their parent developmentally so shame is birthed quite innocently, amplified culturally and fully operational before a child enters pre-school.

Our internal house of mirrors has shiny surfaces that distort our view of self in relationship to others and the world.  They may include:

• Mirrors that reflect abusive treatment as normal.
• Mirrors that scream "not enough!"
• Mirrors that assure us we are the center of the universe (narcissism)
• Mirrors that convince us that our worth is found in what we do for others (codependency)
• Mirrors that distort trauma, betrayal and exploitation so that they appear to be our fault.
• Mirrors that persuade us that _______ isn't so bad (abuse, betrayal, exploitation, maltreatment, toxic relationships) by employing denial and minimization.
• Mirrors that convince us that we are bad and somehow responsible for whatever is happening that is painful but absolutely not responsible for whatever is good.  These "mirrors" rely on shame, blame, internalization and magnification to distort our inner reality.

My almost 8-month-old granddaughter has discovered mirrors and absolutely loves to stand in front

of one and play with the baby she sees.  She laughs as she pats the mirror because the baby in the glass pats back. She has learned to talk to my image in the mirror but then to turn her head and look at me directly as she pats my shoulder.  I would love to know how her fertile and imaginative brain is processing the mystery of mirrors and the images that she is seeing.  My hope for her is that her internal mirrors will not become too distorted as she grows and matures.  My promise to her is to be a mirror that reflects back love, acceptance and value to her, especially when she grows critical of the image she sees in her mirror.  Mirrors that reflect distorted and manipulated images belong in a fun house, not in our internal home.

But, if I am to be a positive influence on my sweet Gracie--if I am to be a true mirror for her--I must continue to dismantle and destroy the distorted mirrors in my own internal home.  My favorite shame researcher, Dr. Brene Brown, recently stated that for her, God is a divine reminder of her inherent worthiness.  I love that idea!  My worthiness has never gone missing; I am loved unconditionally and lavishly and I am learning to live loved.  As I continue to learn this important life lesson, I will communicate it to my children and grandchildren by my attitude and actions--by my example more than by my words. So,  I've packed my bags and am moving out of the fun house.

Healing Communities in Unlikely Places

Several days ago, I took a chance on a novel by an author I was not familiar with and the story she has woven has captured my heart and my imagination.  Don't Let Me Go by Catherine Ryan Hyde, is a masterful piece that perfectly illustrates the value of community in personal healing.  The story is set in a rough neighborhood apartment complex in the greater LA metropolitan area.  Grace, the main character of the story is a nine-year-old child of a relapsed addict. The motley tenants include an agoraphobic, an abuse victim, an elderly lady an angry pedophile and a marginalized Latino. They band together in an effort to help Grace and in the process become a community of healing.

At the beginning of the story, each character is isolated from the others, hostile and fearful.  The world they live in is not safe and they are not trusting.  They know nothing about each other but because Grace is their unifying concern, they slowly lower their personal defenses and allow themselves to be seen by the others.  Grace sets the frame for their interactions; her unconditional acceptance of each adult becomes the norm for the way they interact with each other and with her.  And in doing so, they step out of isolation and into community.  And healing flows through the rooms of the apartments.

According to Dr. Brene Brown, "Shame needs three things to grow out of control in our lives:  secrecy, silence, and judgment." (The Gifts of Imperfection, p. 40).  She goes on to state that "Shame happens between people, and it heals between people." (p. 40).  When we isolate and keep our shame a secret, it thrives but it loses its power when we speak of it.  Billy, the agoraphobic, hides in his apartment though he once danced on Broadway.  Rayleen, the abused manicurist, won't allow anyone to get close emotionally because of the shame she carries over her childhood sexual abuse.  And Mr. Lafferty, the angry man struggling with pedophilia, keeps everyone at bay by his explosive anger.  While they live in close proximity, they are separated by a universe called SHAME.

But not all communities are able to be healing communities.  In fact, many communities become toxic by their demand that everyone look perfect, act perfect or maintain a lifestyle that is congruent with the community's standards.  These communities are extremely judgmental so in order to survive, each member must remain in hiding and isolation.  They may look good on the outside but are rotten to the core on the inside.  Healing communities often are found in the most unlikely places--like a seedy apartment complex on the wrong side of town or in the rooms of a 12-Step program.

But grace--kindness, courtesy, thoughtfulness, approval, favor, mercy, esteem, respect--is a prerequisite for any community to become a healing community.  It is the life force that transforms a group of wounded neighbors into change agents in the life of a little girl and unleashes healing in their own lives.  It is grace that enables genuine connection between individuals and it is that connection that provides healing for shame.  And once we have experienced grace and healthy connections, our heart cry, much like Grace's, will be "Don't ever let me go!"  I need you in order to heal and survive and you need me.  We need each other, we need a community.  Get the book!  Read the book!  Be grace-filled individuals reaching out to another so that together we can heal from the shame that is destroying us.

A Legacy of Trauma

My uncle died this week and we are grieving.  He lived a long life--one marked by tragedy, loss and struggles.  But he is now at peace.

So today, my thoughts are sifting through the histories of my extended family and I realize anew that it is a family with a legacy of trauma.  I an struck afresh with the many ways that untreated psychological trauma impacts others in the family tree--children are raised in an atmosphere where suspicion, hostility and resentment are as common as the endless coffee brewing whenever and wherever the family gathers.  Hypervigilent behavior on the part of a parent impacts a child in ways I am just now beginning to appreciate.  The notions of rehearsing tragedy and foreboding joy becomes part of the family DNA.

But I am also thinking about the many addictions that flow through this family, including sex addictions.  My mother and her siblings were raised by a praying mother and a philandering father.  The stories are legendary but the thread no one talks about is trauma and relational wounding.

I think about my grandmother who in family lore was a saint but who had a proclivity for harboring resentment.  And how could she not?  Her husband had numerous affairs, some in her own house while she was dying from leukemia.  How did the relational wounding of that first affair impact her?  How did the trauma of finding out that the father of her children had betrayed his marital vow change her?  In her era and religious climate, women were instructed to accept this aberrant behavior as part of their "cross to bear." So there was no real substantial help for the pain she experienced and the trauma that changed her world.  How did that impact her parenting?

And what of her kids when they grew old enough to know what their father was doing?  Did her bitterness color their view of life, relationships and what it means to be a man or a woman?  How were they traumatized by their father's behavior?  How did they deal with the trauma?

Since all of these events occurred prior to the time when psychologists gained an understanding of psychological trauma and its lasting impact, I am confident it was never addressed.  So the legacy of untreated trauma has manifested itself down through the years as:

• very high rate of cancer
• a number of tragic and senseless deaths at an early age
• substance abuse and process addictions
• staggering divorce rates
• criminal behavior and incarceration
• pervasive resentment, bitterness and judgmentalism
• childhood molestation

And these are just the manifestations that one can see--the hidden cesspools of shame, fear, anxiety, anger and resentment are unmeasurable.  And the thought occurs to me that trauma brings its own form of living death.  So many of us walk through life almost like zombies because of the unrecognized, unacknowledged and untreated wounds inflicted on us--the traumas left untreated.

Trauma: Big "T's" and Little "T's"

In my professional life I deal with victims of trauma so understand a bit about the lasting impact a traumatic event has on an individual.  In a nutshell, a traumatic experience occurs when something/someone threatens your sense of safety and well-being.  As such, it is a very subjective experience; that is what is felt as trauma by one individual may not be so for another.  Big "T" traumas are easily recognizable:  childhood sexual abuse, domestic violence, acts of violence, natural disasters, rape, profound betrayal by a loved one, etc.  Little "t" traumas are not any less significant but generally occur repeatedly over time and build on each other.  Examples would be name-calling on the playground, ongoing emotional abuse, shaming, deception, etc.

Dr. Judith Hermann authored what many consider the bible of trauma and asserts that "Psychological trauma is an affliction of the powerless" (Hermann, 1997, p 33).  Healing from trauma, according to Hermann, involves three important steps:

1. Establishing safety
2. Remembering and mourning
3. Reconnection

Healing from traumatic experiences takes time, often a lifetime.  It is possible for the intensity of the experience to diminish but some research suggests that trauma makes permanent changes in the brain. For the fortunate, big "T" traumas are rare but little "t" traumas are more widespread for a greater percentage of people.  However, past traumas are hooked by new traumatic experiences so the cumulative effect can be overwhelming.

Fifteen months ago, I experienced a big "T" trauma when my front door was broken down by the police and I awakened to officers with drawn guns ordering me to "Come out with my hands up!"  My sense of powerlessness was profound and quite accurate.  There was absolutely nothing I could do to prevent the devastating events that were unfolding around me.  It has only been in recent months that I have felt myself relaxing into safety once more.  Until three weeks ago when my bank account was drained by criminals who counterfeited my personal checks, forged my signature and got away with it.

Initially, I was more irritated and frustrated by the experience than traumatized, although I felt incredibly violated.  I worked with the bank to close the impacted account, order new checks, process the fraud claims and wait for justice.  The bank opted to not file criminal charges even though they had surveillance video, thumb prints and identification from the thieves.  But they returned the stolen money and while I was cautious, felt that the danger had passed.  Until I woke up to an email from my bank yesterday, informing me that my account had gone into overdraft protection.

Someone walked into one of my bank's branches and presented a check for several thousand dollars.  It was the same counterfeited check drawn on my closed account and the bank honored it!  They then went into my savings account to cover what was not in my checking account.  I spent the day at the police station filing a report and at the bank, closing my account.  Basically, in my state, this is a crime that is not prosecuted, which is incredible to me.  The officer who took my police report was very empathetic but also very realistic in what would happen with the report--it would be buried somewhere with the many thousands of others.

After doing all I could to protect my money, I came home and crashed in a very big way.  Emotionally, I went back in time to the instant my door came crashing down.  I knew that I was safe in my new home but I didn't feel safe.  Someone had crashed down the door to my bank account and robbed me and my sense of personal safety vanished.  I felt violated and powerless to prevent further violation and I thrashed around emotionally trying to find a safe place to land--a refuge from danger.  This world is not a safe place and my sense of that was overwhelming.

So what did I do?  I took a nap (good self-care), cried and cried and cried and cried and then cried some more (and drank lots of water to replenish my depleted body).  I talked to a friend who as a survivor of interpersonal partner violence was smart enough to just listen emphatically--to be present with me in my grief and fear.  She didn't give me platitudes or tell me to "buck up," or "stay strong."  She was just present, even though physically she was several thousand miles away.  According to Dr. Hermann, "Recovery [from trauma] can only take place in the context of relationships, it cannot occur in isolation" (p. 133).  So reaching out to a trusted friend was a recovery step that was incredibly helpful.

So, while my banking experience probably can be considered a little "t" trauma, it drew its energy from a big "T" trauma as well as other little "t" traumas from the past fifteen months.  I have been very powerless over the fall-out from my ex-husband's criminal activity but have to remind myself that in this episode of little "t" trauma, I advocated for myself, took positive action to change my situation and sought help from a trusted friend.  And I know that this too will pass.  This season of re-opened grief and fear has an expiration date and I am surviving.

First Steps

At nearly seven months of age, Gracie loves standing and with assistance takes tentative steps.  When she first discovered that the appendages attached to her torso were designed to enable her to be upright and move of her own accord, she grew enamored with the idea of walking.  It is amusing, actually to watch her lying in her crib or bouncy seat, back arched and straining mightily to get her body in a standing position.  She knows it is possible but still needs help getting upright and support while she learns to put one foot in front of the other, balancing her weight and mastering forward motion.  Sooner than we can imagine, she will let go and take the first of many steps solo.  And then watch out world!  Grace will be on the move.

Like Gracie, I recently made some important steps of my own.  Having just celebrated my first year in recovery, I sat down with my sponsor and formally completed the first three steps of a 12-Step program.  But unlike my sweet Grace, the learning curve that brought me to this place was much longer than seven months.  For many, many years in my marriage, I tried to manage, control and manipulate the unmanageability of life with an individual struggling with sexual compulsions.  I arched my back, grunted and often was brought to tears by the struggle to move what was unmoveable.  Months before disaster descended upon my household, I began letting go and without realizing it moved myself into an upright position and started moving forward.

The first three steps are often called the "God" steps and can be boiled down to three simple statements:

I can't.

God can.

I'm going to let Him.

When I washed up on the shores of recovery, I definitely felt like a baby stuck on her back--knocked flat by a tsunami of loss and devastation.  It was not difficult to admit that my life had become unmanageable--I was living unmanageable.  And without other options (funny how life does that sometimes), I reaffirmed my belief that God could restore me to sanity and made decisions daily to allow Him to do just that.

1. Admitted I was powerless over sexaholism--that my life had become unmaneageable.
2. Came to believe that a Power greater than myself could restore me to sanity.
3. Made a decision to turn my will and my life over to the care of God.

So my sponsor and I sat together and reviewed my step work.  As usual, her thoroughness and affirmation were reassuring.  She calls herself my "witness."  And I am reminded of a quote from a favorite movie Shall We Dance?  

"We need a witness to our lives.  There's a billion people on the planet . . .

I mean what does any one life mean?  But in a marriage [or relationship],

you're promising to care about everything.  The good things, the bad things, the terrible things,

the mundane things . . . all of it, all the time, every day.  You're saying 

'Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it.

Your life will not go unwitnessed because I will be your witness.'"

I hope I am around with video camera going when Gracie takes her first steps solo--it will be an amazing feat.  I well remember her Papa's first steps because I was there; I was his witness.  Today I am grateful for my witness and for these momentous first steps on the path to recovery.  It is because of His grace that I am on the move.  Now on to step four!

Reflections on Shame

I was holding my six month old granddaughter recently when she, uncharacteristically, spit up all over me.  In my surprise, I exclaimed, "Gracie!"  Her response broke my heart.  Her sweet little face began crumpling up and tears welled in her eyes.  I hugged her tight, reassuring her of my love and that all was well in our world but the experience haunts me still and I wonder if what she was experiencing was an early expression of shame.

The research on when shame begins can be confusing.  Some developmental psychologists posit that an infant is born with the capacity to feel shame and that its roots lie in the human condition.  While others believe that shame begins in a child's second year of life during what is commonly known as the "terrible twos."

Another psychologist/philosopher/deep thinker suggests that "original sin" is really "original shame."  Rather than coming into the world with a debased "sin nature," we come into the world with the seeds of shame in our core, just waiting for the right conditions in which to germinate.  He writes, "Shame is the lie that our worthiness has gone missing.  Shame is the belief that what is inside of us--the substance of who we are-- is rotten and makes us unworthy of love and belonging."  (Flannagan, see link above).  Sin, according to Dr. Flannagan, is in the search for worthiness, significance, belonging and connection outside of ourselves.  And the cure for this human condition is grace--realizing that our worthiness was never missing and that we are loved just the way we are.

So my sweet little Grace--this child who has been adored and loved every single second of her life, who has been doted on by every adult within her circle and has received hours and hours of undivided attention--still felt the sting of shame.  As I write these words, she is sitting in her Bumbo seat, staring at me with those deep blue eyes.  Her smiles and coos absolutely delight me and there is absolutely nothing in this world I would not do for her.  I want her to know in her core how much she is loved, no matter what.  I want her to know how beautiful and smart and kind she is.  I want her to believe this and to know that she is worthy of love simply because she is.  I know that as she grows she will be confronted with other messages that hook that "inbred shame" and that the battle to not believe the lies that shame whispers will be hers to fight long after this Nana is gone.

But maybe the best legacy I can leave her is a recommitment to healing my own shame and to finding my own worthiness, significance and value in the knowledge that I am loved by Love Himself.

Rear View Mirror or Road Ahead?

Recently I made a crazy road trip through the Mohave Desert to a neighboring state.  Twelve hours of driving to spend the day with my son on his birthday, gave me lots of time to contemplate the mechanics of driving and to recall the lessons of driver's ed learned so many years ago.  Safe driving involves not only keeping one's eyes on the road ahead but regularly checking the road behind as well.  We look ahead and we look behind to insure that we arrive at our destination safe and sound.


And it occurs to me that the same is true of recovery.  I've had people encourage me to forget the past--it is done and I need to move onward.  Their "forgive and forget" attitude reeks of denial and doesn't set well with me.  If I deny the past, it feels like I am cutting off an essential part of who I am.  And yet, I see the danger of spending too much time lost in the pain of the past or mired down in the rose-colored memories of days long gone.  So the question that challenges me is:

Do I spend more time looking in the rear view mirror than I do at the road ahead?

And the answer comes from my driver's ed class--both are important.  A good driver constantly scans the past through the rear view and side mirrors but also keeps her eyes on the road ahead.  Recovery reminds me that my past informs my present but does not have to dictate my future. As I examine my past losses, wounds and relationships, I better understand how I became the person I am.  I learn why I developed particular coping mechanisms and I grow in compassion for the child, adolescent and young woman that I once was.  I become more comfortable in my own skin and have a better idea of who I truly am and where I want to go in life.

My favorite poet expresses it this way (sorry for the mixed metaphors):

"it wasn't just that she had to refocus.

she had to clean her lens.

that dust from the past was

giving her a fuzzy view.

she had some cleaning to do."  

(Terri St. Cloud, Bone Sigh Arts)

Looking ahead while driving a car also poses some danger in that if we focus on things too far away exclusively, we may miss potential danger directly in our path.  You've probably experienced this when driving, especially if you practice defensive driving.  Driving in LA is always an adventure and is not for the faint of heart.  Recently I was driving home and noticed that an emergency vehicle was several blocks away with lights and sirens on.  I was focused so much on where the vehicle was that I nearly hit a car trying to merge into my lane.  Someone once quoted an old adage that still resonates with me: "If we stand with one foot in the past and one foot in the future, we piss on the present."  It's a crude saying but it is true.

So the lesson I am learning is to stay present in this moment, savoring and understanding the lessons of my past and looking forward with gratitude and anticipation to the challenges and joy of my future.  By understanding where I have come from and what I have experienced; by knowing that I am a survivor and am far stronger than I ever imagined and by having a better sense of who I am and why I am here I can press forward.  Recovery involves cleaning.  I clean my mirror so I can clearly see my past; my window for today and my lens for tomorrow.  Where is my lens clothe?