I had a dream recently about a traumatic time in my adolescence. In the dream events from my past were replaying again (as they have countless times before in my dreams), but this time I did something new, something I didn’t do in real life—I used my voice to speak out to people who matter about what was happening. And in the dream, while there was no “happily ever after” fixing of the trauma, my voice was heard and the person I spoke to responded helpfully.
What surprised me in the night when I awoke from the dream and continued to surprise me the next morning, was the potency of using my voice to speak out and actually being heard when I spoke—even in my dreams, almost 50 years after the events that triggered the dream, it was powerful and positive. It felt freeing and healing to give voice to the pain and confusion of that time and have others respond to it with compassion and wisdom.
Who knows what would have happened if I had found a way to speak out at the time. For some parts of our lives there are no “do-overs.” I can look at myself and the circumstances and say, I did the best I knew how to do at the time. And knowing what I know today I probably would not have done anything differently.
Despite feeling that I have healed from the trauma of that time in my life, I found claiming my voice, even in my dreams, to be powerful medicine.
You need only claim the events of your life to make yourself yours. When you truly possess all you have been and done…you are fierce with reality.
—Florida Scott-Maxwell, The Measure of My Days
Owning My Story
You may be noticing that I am not giving details of the story in this blog. That is an intentional decision on my part. It is my story, but as in all stories there are other points of view and details that are not mine to tell. I did tell my story to someone in my family recently for the first time. It felt freeing to tell the truth about that time in my life and to reclaim my voice.
It began with a question from a relative, “What do you remember about that time?” It was the first time anyone had asked me about my experience back then. When I heard the question I paused and clearly thought, “You’ve been talking about finding your voice as a photographer and as a person. You have a choice here. Will you remain silent or will you give voice to what you experienced?”
I decided to speak out. The world didn’t end, my experience wasn’t discounted, and I felt heard and seen. It was a gift I had not expected. I’m still feeling the reverberations from that short conversation. It feels quite freeing.
I’ve been reading a book that talks about how many of us cover up the messy parts of ourselves and only show the world the acceptable stuff. When I was younger I always tried to hold myself “together” in difficult times, hiding the messiness and jumble of feelings that all of us have in our lives at one time or another.
The older I get the less I try to hide the messiness and the more my goal is to show my real self. I found this book to be a great reminder that what someone lets us see on the outside is often not what is going on in the inside.
In the book, Carry On Warrior: Thoughts on Life Unarmed, Melton describes her life as an addict (she suffered from bulimia, drug addiction, alcoholism) and how finding herself pregnant at age 26, caused her to get sober and clean up her life. Now she looks great on the outside (our cultural ideal of slender, attractive, well-dressed) but knows that she struggles on a daily basis to hold her life together.
One of the stories she tells in the book is of how she senses that another mom at the playground is struggling but putting a brave face on to the world. She decides to sit down beside her on the park bench and reveal just a little of her story.
Sitting there with Tess, I realized I wasn’t really sitting there with Tess at all. There were so many layers of my armor and her armor between us that we couldn’t touch each other… Suddenly this all seemed completely ridiculous. Sure, I was sober and out of hiding, but by denying my past to others, protecting myself with the shield of secrets and shame, I had isolated myself… It hit me that maybe the battles of life are best fought without weapons. That maybe life gets real good, and interesting when we remove all of the layers of protection we’ve built around our hearts and walk out onto the battlefield of life naked. I wondered, If I put down my guns, will Tess do the same? I decided it was a worthy experiment.
I shed my armor and I waved my white flag. All of a sudden I heard myself saying the following to Tess: Listen I want you to know that I’m a recovering alcohol, drug, and food addict. I’ve been arrested because of those things…
Tess stared at me for so long that I wondered if she was going to call our minister or 911. Then I saw some tears dribble down her cheek. We sat there, and she told me everything…
There is great power in shedding your armor and using your voice to tell your truth. Life gets real when you find the courage to be vulnerable.
“Owning our story can be hard but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it. Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy—the experiences that make us the most vulnerable. Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light.”
― Brené Brown
We all have challenges. We all have messiness in our lives. We can wear our many layers of armor and be silent and filled with shame or we can use our voice and tell the truth, helping us reach out to others and “discover the infinite power of our light.”
May you walk in beauty.
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