Embodied Heart

Alone in the World

For today’s #EmbodiedHeart post, I want to share about my experience of being a witness to aloneness. I am not totally, finally and in all ways alone in the world. I have friends and co-workers (and a dog) who care about me. But on the “most important relationships” marker, I am without, as I do not have a romantic partner or child and am not in contact with my family-of-origin. Rather than attempt to downplay my lack of familying, I’ve come into awareness of the power and value of this position.

What I saw in my mind’s eye was a circle, but it was entirely darkened without any light. I saw those of us there, the alone ones, furtively cowering and enclosing ourselves away, ashamed of our position. Society tells us people are most worthy when they are “good” children to their adult parents, married, and parenting their own children. For each of those conditions that are removed, worth decreases in many people’s minds. This can be very subtle—not an outright rejection but rather a no-holds-barred fight to help the person escape the circle of darkness.

We see it that way, I think, as a pit. Somewhere no one should be—alone—and certainly not for very long if it happens. I’ve witnessed people staying in relationships far past their expiration date to avoid falling into this pit, as well as denying that, for all intents and purposes, they were in fact in it.

In my vision, I saw myself striking a match and lighting a candle in this place without brightness—illuminating that which is often denied, discounted or maligned. A knowing settled into me as I did this that I am probably in this for the long haul. Most people I meet who are in a state of aloneness are there temporarily, after a major relationship shakeup or loss. They stay there briefly and then move through this place. I do not wish to delay them on their journey. Rather, I want them to know that even in a place of feeling abandoned—unheard and unseen—they are still witnessed. They are witnessed because I (and others like me) are there shining light, existing unabashedly in this small corner of human existence.

All it took was for me to write one blog post and to speak my aloneness in one public setting for this aspect of my journey to feel solidified. I have been in this place for a decade, by and large, and yet have spent almost the entire time shrinking from who I am and feeling distinctly less-than the familied ones. Now I know I’m not, and that treating this way of existing as something to be rushed through or forgotten desecrates the sacredness which with I think it is imbued. Not everyone is willing to stand in the midst of experience that bucks our evolution and desires and own being there.

I am not totally at peace yet with this place. I have voices internally (and sometimes in the real world) telling me that I am here to spare myself more grief—that I am “skipping” the hard parts of being married or of raising children. But this place is its own kind of sorrow. What I’ve seen as my purpose in life becomes clearer here—if I can speak myself whole in this way, I open space and give others permission to speak themselves whole in their places of grief. If we live long lives, we lose loved ones, sometimes unexpectedly and often too soon for our hearts to catch the blow. We are awful as a society at acknowledging, honoring and holding space for each other in these losses. Those of us who, like myself, are willing to simply stand, light in hand, and remind people around us that both they alone and their grief is seen, heard, holy and worthy, may not achieve the happy ending for which every story pulls, but we play a crucial role in the process of mourning.

What is your experience of being in a place of aloneness (without family)? How does it differ from the “in relationship but feeling alone” dynamic? To what extent do you, in whichever places your story has taken you, hold vigil for those who suffer similar losses or who grieve similar failures to find relationship?

Embodied Heart, Goddess Thealogy

What Goddess Spirituality Means to Me

I will soon be hosting a free Self-Compassion Summer Camp Virtual Circle for individuals who are interested in deepening their practice of Goddess Spirituality. I’ve written in the past about why I believe Goddess Spirituality has resonance for trauma survivors. As I’ve worked on preparing the circle, I realized it would probably be wise to share about my own belief and value system on a more granular level in order to give my offerings within the circle adequate contextualization. For today’s #Thealogy post, I will be delineating the specific way in which I define my spirituality as well as the core principles to which I adhere.

Labeling the Intangible

My spiritual identity is that of a person who engages in pantheistic nature-based Goddess Spirituality. I owe a debt of gratitude to Molly Remer’s Practical Priestessing class for elaborating upon the various belief systems within Goddess Spirituality to the point where I was finally able to put a specific terminology to my values. The pantheistic aspect of my practice means that I see the Divine in everything. In addition, Nature reflects spirituality and Deity to me; I would say that the core of my faith is touching the Divine in all Her forms through the natural world. Given this, scientific discovery and inquiry spurs on my spirituality, rather than standing in opposition to it. Lastly, I respond most fully to the Divine in the form of the feminine and female (both the psychological and physical aspects of womenhood).

I have found a few points of distinction within areas in the wider Pagan and Goddess Spirituality worlds that I think bear consideration. I very much value historical conceptualizations of female Deities, but I do not worship a particular Goddess per se or see Goddess as entirely separate from myself, for instance, as an entity whom I must placate through sacrifice. I also do not venerate both God and Goddess as some Wiccan practitioners do. My practice honors and values the developmental processes of those who are biologically women, such as menstruation, childbirth and menopause, but these transitions are not the center of my devotion. Instead, I incorporate a systemic view of natural cycles into my conceptualization of the Divine–Goddess as reflected in ecosystems. As a result, although I’ve limited my Summer Self-Compassion Camp to women as participants, I view Goddess Spirituality as accessible to all people, regardless of gender. Likewise, although I connect with each face of the Triple Goddess as Maiden, Mother and Crone, I do not limit myself to viewpoints of Goddess or of my own development to this presentation alone. Finally, I do not believe in anything resembling the Law of Attraction or the idea that I can alter reality through magical means alone.

As I’ve sat with a desire to communicate my values and beliefs, five specific core concepts have emerged. If you are interested in the virtual circle, I think you will find the most resonance if you identify with them as well:

  1. Embracing all of nature
  2. Living in compassion and love
  3. Appreciating the interconnectedness of all beings
  4. Attending to the margins
  5. Creating conscious community

Please see below for a full description of each value.

Embracing All of Nature

The heart of embracing all of nature is to me to acknowledge the dialectics within life. There are moments of beauty, but there is also death and decay. Similar to the darkness that is as much a part of the world around us as the light, I believe each of us has shadow—areas of our inner lives we’d rather avoid that in fact hold the key to our deepening relationship with Self. We needn’t have it all together or be “positive” at all times; making appearances of doing so is often a cowering from reality rather than an authentic state of being. Moments of experience where everything is going wrong or our best-laid plans result in failure are as vital to our spiritual journey as triumphs.

Embracing all of nature lends itself organically to practicing mindfulness. Living in the present moment is the surest way for us to access our experience as it is instead of as we’d like it to be. Contemplation of the past and future is also welcome and necessary; I seek to integrate my ideas of what has been and what will be into who I am in the present rather than to spend my time pining for past losses or future not-untils.

Walking with nature also includes physically experiencing it to the fullest extent to which we are able. We need bodily, emotional, mental and spiritual stimulation as humans, and there is almost always free access to it the moment we spend time with organic matter (I say this instead of green because I think there is something to be said for being around plants, etc. after the harvest has passed as well). Instead of using technology to perk us up or keep us interested, we can substitute the real thing for the artificially-generated. I value a slow and sustainable pace to life whenever it is feasible; my progress in this area is unsteady at times but, as it is rooted in my ancestral path, I know I will continue to open to it.

Living in Compassion and Love

I placed compassion before love in the section title because I think what the world needs is a greater capacity for compassion and empathy more than anything else. Liking is typically a prerequisite to love, but, if we open ourselves to it, we can feel for anyone, even those who are very different from us. Telling people that they are only acceptable to us, that we can only feel compassion for them if they change their beliefs, behaviors or other aspects of who they are to fit our needs is cheap grace—again, it is often easy to feel for those with whom we have much in common. Loving all whom we are lucky enough to have as close and dear to us and showing compassion to everyone we meet are intertwined reflections of Goddess for me.

Appreciating the Interconnectedness of All Beings

Gratitude grounds me in the realization that I am but one small part of the ecosystem of the Earth. Both on a physical and a spiritual level, I think everything and everyone is held in the Cosmic Web of life. No matter what my feelings of depression or trauma-based beliefs may tell me, I am not only a part of humanity, I am also in intimate relationship with all aspects of the universe, from the tiniest ant to the farthest galaxy. I hold that this is true for all humans without question. In this sense, we are all welcome and we each have inherent worth. My actions, then, take on heightened importance as the decisions I make affect everyone. I have a responsibility to the wider world as well as to myself; at the end of things, they are one and the same.

Attending to the Margins

Most of the individuals with whom I’ve interacted in the Goddess Spirituality world are very socially aware and care about society’s inequality and injustice. Some of these individuals, myself included, do not think the world in its current state is just. In other words, we don’t think individual people are solely responsible for everything that happens to them nor do we believe that people always get what they deserve. I am strongly opposed to the notion of karma on the scale of a human lifetime—we may not see things righted in each person’s life. Survivors of child abuse, for instance, did not cause their own victimhood, and their abusers will unfortunately not always be brought to justice. Likewise, people can be born into misery through no fault of their own.

On a cosmic timescale, I think there are discernible patterns of growth and entropy and that, even within the limited framework of human history, there are streams feeding the river of progress. Although justice is elusive, I believe actions such as tending to those who are less fortunate and speaking truth to power serve as outflows of the wellspring of hope and compassion which Goddess Spirituality provides for us. I hold that the feminine characteristics of empathy, cooperation and nurturance are vital contrasts to systems which focus on rightness, domination and conquest.

Creating Conscious Community

Having been raised in (by American standards) an extremely restrictive, patriarchal and collectivistic community, communally-focused activities can feel threatening to me. I’ve stumbled my way towards a recognition that my skills at instantly dissecting a group’s leadership and desiring to expose their inherent flaws need to be redirected to developing my own abilities in creating community for others. I expect to be humbled and have my “you’re doing it wrong” radar toned down a bit by the experience. There is a knowing in me that there isn’t a perfect community into which I will walk with a place carved out that suits me just right. Instead, I need to handcraft the vessel myself and pour out the libation to others who are like-minded.

Goddess spirituality practices are often egalitarian and focused on developing each participant’s inherent abilities. I hope to partner with others who hold a desire to become teachers and healers and spiritualists—those who want to cultivate their own leadership skills. The community model to which I am drawn asks and invites each individual who partakes to contribute that which they know is theirs to give and to take from the group that which is needed, trusting that most people will respond thoughtfully to such an offer. The innate effort, generosity and empathy of which most humans are capable is perhaps best elicited, paradoxically, by sharing with newcomers, rather than by demanding they earn their seat.

These five principles, along with the labels under which I feel comfortable placing myself, have taken me a few decades to collect and to then digest sufficiently to where I can begin to open myself up to others in their offering. I am certain they will change a bit as I continue my spiritual journey. I would love to hear from others who consider themselves practitioners of Goddess Spirituality, pantheism and/or nature-based spirituality as to their resonance and meaning for you personally, as well as the additional guiding philosophies to which you hold allegiance in your walk with Goddess.

Embodied Heart, Surviving & Thriving

The Wasteland and the Dandelion

I’ve felt inspired to write several posts this spring with hints of weeds in them. My reality has begun to match my imagination as dandelions have overtaken my front lawn. I felt only the slightest embarrassment about the unruliness until one of my neighbors commented on it in a negative way. It was at the end of a long and stressful week, so, in my anger, I immediately got a weed-wacker and started hacking at them (my mower is hand-powered so it doesn’t do much). I felt exhilarated by the fact that my “solution” to the issue was only making the problem worse by neatly disseminating the seeds in every direction.

As I sat with the situation and how I handled it, I felt a budding sense of recognition of my old friend shame. When someone judges me, I tend to move through a place of humiliation so quickly that I don’t realize what I’m feeling, and I then either berate myself or behave defensively. Someone else’s reaction to us is secondary to the meaning we give it internally—we only feel shame when we purchase what they are proffering. For today’s #SurvivingnThriving Tuesday, I want to spend some time uncovering the roots of our shame as trauma survivors and relating the specific experience I had in this instance in tending it.

That Which Secrets Hold

Shamefulness births lies and deceit. In the case of childhood trauma, this may take the form of hiding our suffering from ourselves. When we are unable to connect to a part of our experience, we release it into an inner wasteland where it metastasizes and spreads. The more we disown who we are or what we’ve experienced, the more inner control it takes to restrain the outgrowth of our horrors. Through aches and illnesses, our bodies often begin to articulate that which we cannot acknowledge.

Childhood abuse of the physical or sexual nature involves bodily violation whereas mental and emotional abuse violates us psychologically. These defilements, particularly when they occur without an affirming and protective adult to intervene, produce shame. It is in a child’s nature to eat shame as deserved; after all, if the abuse is committed by a loved one, the alternative is to reject the very body and being of those to whom the child is closest.

In some cases of abuse, abusers may be making manifest their unprocessed and shamed traumatic past. I believe this can heighten the chances that the individual who is acting in an abusive manner will, in the moment, deliberately induce shame in the child as way to further distance themselves from their past. Only my body knows what this really means–it is too painful and difficult for me to put into words what it feels like to become a conduit of another’s self-hatred. If we have no other reason than this to work on our own shame, I think we have reason enough.

But It Blossoms Into Tears

So, if we are trauma survivors, it is likely shame has gained a foothold. Should we, as my neighbors clearly expected of me, head off for pesticides and torches and get it gone? If only it were that easy. Shame is a cancer that splits each time you cut into it, resilient and resistant. We can’t weed-wack our way out of it.

I believe the function of internalized feelings of shame is often to hold back grief. Rejecting a part of ourselves as sullied and vile because of what happened to us allows us to break the timepiece and stay in the moment of terror, rather than to move forward to face our little self and grow. Who are we with the inclusion of all of our scars and sorrows? Every time we pause to allow another’s judgment to creep in to how we picture ourselves, we disallow ourselves comfort for whatever we are appearing “less than” in comparison. I pride myself on respecting other’s boundaries and needs, so my neighbor’s observation on the state of my patchwork-grass exposed a lack of attention that didn’t fit with how I wanted to be seen.

Going further into the wasteland of shame, I find the aloneness with which I cope each day appears as a scrubby tree whose branches crackle in reminder that if I had a partner or a child or family, my lawn would be nicer because there would be someone to remind me about it and to help me maintain it. A Cheshire-grin jackrabbit hops by, noting that I also “should” be productive and work hard and never stop moving. This is a trauma-time loop where I believed I could prevent the next incident of abuse by staying ahead of it; knowing when it would occur could stop it, so I thought. Finally I arrive at my destination, a small pit of murky water. Here I find my grief. I feel outside of time as I pause in this place. What arises is an awareness that I felt “safe” because I perceived myself to be following the rules of being a good neighbor. By doing so, I thought I would be able to maintain positive relationships with the neighbors I like. The humiliation of shame-induction rises up and the water goes black. The sense in me is that there is no safe place, no way to undo it, no path through which I can go where I won’t be hurt. I am trapped, helpless and alone. My best effort wasn’t good enough and when the cost is body and psychic violation of the nature I experienced as child, failure really matters. Shame, reaching out into oozy mud, covers me. Shame is a tar pit and grief is the only water that dissolves it.

I see her finally, the little self who doesn’t know how to maintain a lawn because she was never taught how to do so. The little self who thought being quiet and staying inside her plat of land would be enough to win favor. The little self who just wanted to have her own home where she wouldn’t be hurt, and who marveled at the dandelions because they made her happy. One tiny moment—a ten second interaction—cast me into the wilderness of my shame and it took me hours to find my little self and transform tar to water. Tears finally come. Judgement is irrelevant when I know I met myself today in this exploration and it was worth it. Sure, I’ll buy a stick to dig out some of the blossoms, but I’ll leave plenty there to mark the pathway out of my shame and back to myself.

Embodied Heart

Reimagining Our Flaws

I have been sitting with deep feelings of inadequacy for days now. The genesis of my current state was caused by negative feedback I’ve received in a few areas of my life, which then cracked open the feelings of shame and self-loathing with which I’ve always struggled. I have little interest in believing myself competent, superior or gifted in all areas of life; protecting my self-esteem comes at too high of a price if it costs me my honesty and authenticity. For today’s #EmbodiedHeart post, we’ll be taking a deeper look at how to shift the paradigm away from projections of perfection into a viewpoint that captures our ugliness and envisions grace in its bumps and asymmetry.

Feeling judged, rejected or abandoned is an invitation into a deeper relationship with our inner world. We cannot truly know its state without keys to unlock the doors of what we hide from ourselves. I believe we spend much time shoving away anything that could cause us discomfort or make us question our abilities. If we sit with these difficult emotions, we may gain entry into internal places which we’ve never tread. As a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, I have been amazed at the specific connections I am able to make (within the safe context of therapy) between my current feelings and my past experiences. It can be disheartening to realize we’ve been playing at the same script for decades, hoping this time the ending will vary, but it may be that only through this awareness that we can fully know ourselves and can then help to heal those little selves of past pain. The less we shy away from difficult realizations, the more the awareness they reveal can improve our self-care.

Goddess as Universe grants us an open window into how to respond to our foibles. I view Her as the ultimate creative force. Any time life dies back, She has in a sense “failed.” However, She is just getting warmed up. Into the void She tosses seeds, sprinkles showers and directs sunlight. There is no lasting failure, only the possibility of new growth.

We do not operate on the same time scale, so our failures feel more acute and permanent. Our corporal beings may not outlast our bare earth or charred stumps. This is where the interconnectedness of all beings comes into focus as a healing conduit to change. Perhaps we ourselves cannot not regrow or replenish completely, but our actions of turning over the decay and watering it through our tears could lead to future fertility. Grieving our losses and our neverhads is part of the heartbeat that flows between generations and through time. We may never say of a loved one “she mourned well” but our lives will undoubtedly be fuller and blossom for her having done it.

Grieving and gratitude symbiotically imbue with life essence the undergrowth of our life in places where traditional markers of success may go unmet. To whom would you entrust your soul, a person for whom roses take hold instantaneously or someone who has cut back the ivy, found only ruin beneath, and still stands in appreciation of the warmth of the sun through the clearing? Suffering and failure may not be grace, but pain—held with sorrow and appreciation for what remains—is the core of authentic life.

I think there are two way-stops on the pathway to grateful mourning. Many times we may barely take two steps forward, so strong is the pull to deny where we lack and to smile our perfect-toothed grin of false pride. Believing ourselves infinitely gifted and impervious to what others think may appear strong but belies the thin soil on which we stand. Those brave enough to journey onward may get sidetracked by esteeming incompetence—shallow mourning or masochistic desires for our defects to define our identity. In these instances, we take depressive emotions and pity as substitutes for vanity. Being given attention for where we fall short, we swallow the prickly gift and wear our suffering as an emblem commanding respect.

These are very difficult statements as I think they reveal a hard truth—suffering by itself is movement but I think we can go further. We can metabolize our pain, digest our lack, and recycle it to the world through our weeping and our uplifted hands in praise of that which we do have. Those are the people I most want to know, those who know where they are weak, who care for their weaknesses, and who move through them to integrate them into their strengths. Those who have spill many drops of grief for what life has cost them, and who are not afraid to have it take from them even more because they know the value they may pay will return a thousand-fold in future generations.

What is your relationship with your weaknesses and flaws? Where in your life have you, through mourning and/or gratitude, transformed your suffering? Are there other way-stops in which people may get stalled before access grief and gratitude?

Embodied Heart, Surviving & Thriving

Resolving Expectations of Compassion Toward Abuse Perpetrators

A fellow blogger, Alexis Rose, shared an excellent post about her feelings on the word forgiveness.  As I read her post as well as the replies, I felt like the veil finally lifted on what I felt I had been accused of lacking in relation to my abusers by the various people with whom I’ve shared my story. It wasn’t forgiveness as no request had made to do so. Rather, it was compassion. Those of us who have been subjected to the most heinous acts humans can perpetrate are expected to feel empathy and to practice understanding for those who harmed us. In today’s #EmbodiedHeart and #SurvivingnThriving post, I will explore why this expectation may exist and outline best practices in responsiveness for those who wish to support trauma survivors in relation to this topic.

*Please note that I do dichotomize the condition of survivors and perpetrators in this post. I am aware that an individual could fall into both categories; I will not be fully addressing that complication.

But They Had a Rough Life Too…

To me, the function of pushing compassion towards abusers on trauma survivors is that it serves to dismiss any grappling with grief, pain, horror and estrangement by the commenter. If victims and perpetrators can reconcile, what need is there to fully acknowledge the awfulness of the actions and the destruction they cause for their victims? Within this mindset, the discomfort can be wrapped up quickly to move on to a world with less injustice.

As strange as it may sound, those who view abusers with complete hatred and malice—for instance, those who hope they get raped in prison—are simply the other side of the same coin. If the abuser is either monster or another form of victim, we are spared the gut-wrenching realization that all of us have the potential for evil within us as well as the difficult work of having to make meaning out of the actions of those who succumb to it.

Sex offenders (and, to a lesser extent, parents who physically abuse their children) are one of the few true pariahs of our society. The main impulse people seem to have towards them is that they should be banned from everywhere and imprisoned for life, if not outright killed. The hypocrisy, though, is mountainous when it comes to survivors, who are expected to be the ones to redeem them through their acts of forgiveness and compassion. I see value in restorative justice models; however, it is not my job as a survivor to fix the system or the situation for those who violated my being. I view it as an act of cowardess to extend an expectation of reconciliation to those who have been most wronged while absolving one’s self of any need to struggle with issues of evil or to create pathways to restoration. I suspect many such expectations are coated with a little bit of soot-shame: sure, it was the perpetrator’s fault, but isn’t the victim a little defective as well? And, if so, I (speaking here as if I were a non-sexually abused human) can leave the whole messy bunch to figure it out amongst themselves.

The current movement to rehabilitate the men rooted out by #metoo will, I suspect, fall victim to the “fix it yourself” crowd. If such an ill-conceived project as Charlie Roses’ talk show occurs, I fully anticipate a woman who has been sexually harassed in the past will be paraded out to make nice with her former boss or co-worker. I do not have any answers for the place at which the fallen (mostly) men who harm others sexually should arrive, and it isn’t my calling in this lifetime to grapple with this burden. Every time someone tells a survivor they should forgive their perpetrator, or wonders to the survivor what awful things must have happened to the perpetrator to lead them to their behaviors, they thrust some of the most challenging moral questions a person may face: Why do some people defile others? Does evil deserve compassion? Is everyone able to be redeemed socially, and, if so, how do we make it happen? at the people least deserving of pondering them.

To take this one step further, I think again about calling. If there is any justice in this world, I feel there needs to be a 50-1 network of supporters of trauma survivors to supporters of perpetrators. I do genuinely believe some people’s mission in life is to work with perpetrators and I support them in their efforts. At the same time, numbers and substance matter. I was deeply disappointed earlier this year when I learned a Pagan conference I wanted to attend regularly welcomes sex offenders and holds specific meetings for them, while paying little attention to the needs of trauma survivors. I am not saying these programs shouldn’t happen, but the fact that one group’s needs were clearly more valued than another’s turned me off to the whole enterprise. Trauma survivors themselves are not overrun with resources and educated supporters, that much I can ensure you.

Best Practices in Supporting Trauma Survivors in Regards to Abusers

I cannot recall another blog I’ve written where I’ve spoken to those who might be support people to trauma survivors; nearly all of my work is directed at trauma survivors themselves. If you read a hint of anger in this post, it’s there. I’ve been hurt far more than I’ve been helped by others when I share my story. The ones who get it, though, are invaluable.

  1. If you feel compelled to mention forgiveness or compassion for an abuser to a survivor, ask yourself the following questions: Have you yourself volunteered or worked with perpetrators of violent crime? Have you supported restorative justice efforts? How many sex offenders or parents who have had their children removed from them do you care for in your daily life? Perhaps you can exercise your compassion muscle towards the individuals you so strongly feel are in need of it directly, rather than expecting the victim of a crime to do the work for you. We are not your tools of healing; it is up to you to create the changes you think society needs.
  2. Respect the survivor’s boundaries. Do not act as an intermediary between the survivor and the abuser unless it is at the survivor’s request and with their permission. Even then, examine your motives and be prepared to set your own boundaries if you feel compelled to do so. I was betrayed by an individual who knew both my parents and me after I started to come to terms with the abuse. This person gave away my new address to my parents which resulted in them stalking me and me having to go to the police. We don’t need heroes like this; those who know when to say “I’m not comfortable talking to so-and-so for you” may do much more to help us heal.
  3. Know that healing is a process. Part of the recovery from childhood abuse often involves long periods of depression and anger. Feelings of helplessness and hopeless may crop up in you. To some extent, these may be projections onto you by the survivor as they relive and digest their experience. As weird as it sounds, it could be a sign that they really trust you, enough to let you see them “messy.” It is completely understandable that you will need your own support system during this time. With attention to confidentiality, it is vital for you to have others to whom you can turn to help you through your reactions and emotions. We cannot heal ourselves and you at the same time; you doing your own inner work is one of the most compassionate acts you can undertake.

Cultivating compassion towards an abuser is largely irrelevant to the work of being a supporter of a trauma survivor. People may be able to operate in both spheres (one of my most helpful therapists did so), but these types of callings are exceedingly rare. If you are someone who wishes to help trauma survivors, expect them to raise their own questions of forgiveness and reconciliation, and offer them the unfailing belief that they are capable to navigating these waters themselves with you as a steady hand to their shoulder. Do not, under any circumstances, believe yourself more able to paddle through these silt-filled bogs yourself. If you instead believe it is your task in life to support the rehabilitation of those who have harmed others, have at it.

I have varying degrees of compassion for those who harmed me most. As my spiritual journey has evolved, my feelings have grown as an outcropping of the inner work I’ve done, not as an intentional shift in direction. To trauma survivors, my main message is that self-compassion is vital to healing (ironically, it is also the topic on which my free Goddess Spirituality circle this summer will focus). The ways in which you work out your feelings towards those who harmed you are sacred waters; the only people with you there should be those you invite.