"My tendency to want to hide away feels easier, and
The immediacy of picturing another place, comforting to go but I know
The only way out is through
The faster we're in the better
The only way out is through ultimately
The only way out is through
The only way we'll feel better"
Alanis Morissette
When I was 5 my dad decided that I needed to know how to swim. So, in the middle of Twin Lakes, he dumped me off into the lake intending to ride beside me as I doggy paddled my way back to shore. At first panicking and swallowing water, I started to go under as fear overtook me. I remember seeing his panicked face from under water getting further away and then in thrust his
big arms to pull me up. His hands missed my shirt and he managed to catch me by the fingers as I struggled to not sink to the murky bottom. Once on the surface he promptly scolded me for being afraid. "There is no crying in swimming", he said. Choking back the tears and the fear he told me to paddle and kick and before long I was making my way back to the shore. I remember thinking about what was lurking in that water waiting to suck me under. Possibly an irrational thought considering the lake itself isn't extremely deep, however, it was the same summer that I had watched an entire town searching the banks of the river for a boy who had gone fishing at the weir. He had been pulled under after getting too close to the intake current. It was an event that shook our whole town and drove home how dangerous the river could be. Then there was the movie Jaws which I had fearfully watched , hiding my face behind my jacket after being dragged along to the Aurora Theater by my eldest sibling. These are the trauma wounds that would shape my fear of murky water for the next 50 years.
Fast forward to today, I live on a large lake and we enjoy every bit of it. We have fished, boated and pulled screaming children on a tube countless times. Even though I have spent my life on the water, I can count on one hand how many times that I have swam near or past the drop off. There is something about the deep, dark water that causes fear to freeze my body. That same darkness calls, urging me to jump in and enjoy the cool vastness of the space. I really want to be able to do it but most days fear talks me out of the great unknown. That dark, deep place of not knowing what may come up for us is a tough place to spend time. Revisiting trauma wounds is like diving into the murky depths of a lake. At first, the water is dark and unsettling, clouded with silt and shadows. Yet, as we bravely navigate through the depths, the silt begins to settle and clarity emerges. Each dive, each exploration of those murky waters, stirs up the pain but also allows it to dissipate, eventually revealing the clear, calm water of healing. Processing trauma may be daunting, but it is through this courageous journey that true healing and clarity are found.
Today marks the 24th year since my first husband's tragic death. Every year I am shrouded in silent sadness that fills my every thought. I hurt for my husband taken to soon, I hurt for my children who will never be able to show him how fantastic his legacy is and I hurt for myself for a life lived under the weight of that loss. That tragedy changed our lives and made me sink into survival mode because addressing my pain meant never knowing what was going to come up from the murky deep and swallow me down whole. When we live in survival mode we never quite have full control of our lives. The pain that we try to ignore ends up coming out in behaviors and triggers that effect our lives in ways that are unimaginable. The truth is Hurt people hurt people. I can't count how many times memories come out of nowhere and catch me in the throat. When I remember pieces of things that I did when something triggered me I shrink under the weight of that memory. Sometimes my children will remind me of something that I said or did and I think to myself, "did I really do that?". Considering that our brain's only job is to keep us alive, the fact that it blocked horrible events to allow for my survival isn't surprising. I know today that there is no escaping pain. We either do it or it's going to do us. Take it from me, sitting with and processing our triggers in the moment is perhaps one of the most powerful things that we can do to process through our pain and heal.
Sitting with a trigger to understand it involves a mindful and intentional approach. When a trigger arises, acknowledging it without reacting, and take a few deep breaths to ground yourself. Create a safe mental space to explore the emotions and sensations that come up. Allow yourself to feel these emotions fully, noting where they manifest in your body. This observation can provide valuable insights into the nature of your trigger.
As you sit with the trigger, gently reflect on the memories or thoughts it brings up. Often, triggers are linked to past experiences that have left an emotional imprint. Identifying these connections helps you unravel the story behind your trigger. Recognize the beliefs and fears that accompany it, such as fears of rejection or inadequacy, and consider how these influence your perception of yourself and the world.
Throughout this process, practice self-compassion. Remind yourself that it's okay to feel what you're feeling and that exploring these emotions is a courageous step toward healing. Journaling can further help organize your thoughts and provide additional insights.
As you continue to sit with and understand your triggers, you may notice that they gradually lose their intensity. Over time, this practice can transform our relationship with triggers, allowing us to
respond to them with greater awareness and resilience. This process of sitting with and understanding our triggers is a powerful step on the path to healing, offering us deeper insights into ourselves and paving the way for meaningful growth. So today, with hurt moving through my veins and memories of my first husband and our little family flooding in I pause. I wait with open arms for the trigger to happen, because when pain speaks we should listen. As I watch a boat of old fishermen leave the harbor I think about every time that I've been thrown into the water to sink or swim. Today, as I dance with memories and pain I will swim even when the unknown threatens to swallow me whole. I choose to sit with my triggers and move through the murky depths of whatever lurks below the surface. I choose to embrace the rawness of growth as it engulfs my mind and body. Today everything else will wash away because simply put, the only way out is through.
Anastasia spends her time writing, speaking and holding space for people to heal their trauma as a Trauma-Informed Empowerment Coach. Currently she spends time wading into deep water to embrace the depths of her past.
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