Day 96 of 100 intentional, reflective steps.

When the minions were little they used to play “backwards day”. Everything meant the opposite of what was said. If they said up it meant down. If they said stay it meant go.  Even the clothes went on backwards. 

Here is some reflective curiosity about my year in intensive trauma therapy. I have acknowledged so much of the abuse and craziness of my family. In recognition of some of the obstacles I would face, I have spent the whole of my adult life in helping relationships; therapists, counselors, pastors, friends etc. helped me understand my own thoughts and feelings.  In the midst of it all I have come to realize that I am a miracle, an overcomer and survivor. The circumstances that could have directly or indirectly ended my life did not, in fact, cause my demise. 

There is something heady to being a survivor. There is a pride and strength from claiming that. So, when this years emotional tsunami rose unexpectedly out of the sea of my past it was like it became backwards day, for the past 500 days. Instead of carrying pride at being a survivor I am forced to admit that I was a victim. Instead of preaching about overcoming I have to acknowledge that some events of my life held pieces of my soul captive. My optimistic focus of being one who rose above was buried by the reality of one who was just trying to survive the flashbacks, nightmares, anxiety and depression. 

The thing that has kept me hopeful and alive to this point is the fact that I can look back and see how far I have come and what I have survived. Looking back into my life as a landfill needing sorting and excavation seems to fly in the face of my “look for the sunrise” philosophy. 

Which is right? Look back or look forward? History or hope?