Is Forgiveness For Our Own Good, Or Theirs?

[Turkish]

Or, how much compassion do we have for ourselves?

I've started reading Alice Miller, and obtained For Your Own Good, and The Drama of the Gifted Child. She's blunt, and controversial to some, but explores the roots of violence as going back to child abuse. I was reading this article and I some things resonated with me:

www.alice-miller.com/articles_en.php?lang=en&nid=59&grp=11

Almost all of us have corporal punishment inflicted on us in our formative years. But the fear and anger such punishment brings with it remain unconscious for a very long time. Children have no choice but suppress their fear and anger, as otherwise they could not sustain their love for their parents, and that love is crucially necessary for their survival.

Truly attempting to understand the child within means acknowledging and recognizing its sufferings, rather than denying them. Then we can provide supportive company for that mistreated infant, an infant left entirely alone with its fears, deprived of the consolation and support that a helping witness could have provided. By offering guidance to the child we once were, we can create a new atmosphere he can respond to, helping him to see that it is not the whole world that is full of dangers, but above all the world of his family that he was doomed to fear in every moment of his existence. We never knew what bad mood might prompt our mother to expose us to the full force of her aggression. We never knew what we could do to defend ourselves. No one came to our aid; no one saw that we were in danger. And in the end we learned not to perceive that danger ourselves.

The above is why I would say that something like this is why some of us end up with abusive partners, and also why we may tolerate abuse from loved ones.

If someone attacks us on the street, we are hardly likely to give him a hug and thank him for the blows he has dealt us. But children almost always do precisely that when their parents are cruel to them, because they cannot live without the illusion of being loved by them.

As children we all tried to understand our parents, and we do this all our lives. Unfortunately, it is precisely this compassion for our parents that frequently prevents us from perceiving our own sufferings.

I think I may be a little guilty of this, still afraid to trigger my mother. I feel sorry for her when I really should feel sorry for the damaged child within.

[goldylamont]

Turkish! How are you my friend? I thought you might like these quotes. If you have the desire I really think you would love this book, I do highly recommend it:

I always suggest that these people go to the library and find books about the developmental processes that were occurring at the time of their traumas (such as the Your Two-Year-Old or Your Five-Year-Old books).[6] It’s fascinating reading, because early trauma insinuates itself into the learning and socialization processes of survivors. Depending on their age at the time of the trauma, people might have trauma responses swirled into their language skills (as I did), their hand-eye coordination, their eating behaviors, or their ability to attach and belong. Trauma at an early age can also predispose the brain toward learning and behavioral disabilities, and even ongoing depressive or anxiety disorders. For childhood trauma survivors, the process of forgiveness is quite lengthy (just as Jesus said it would be), because the trauma grows up with them. There’s not one decisive forgiveness episode; instead, forgiveness is a gradual process of strengthening and unwinding, strengthening and unwinding further, and so on. This gradual process helps trauma survivors separate their innate selves from their traumatic behaviors. Their authentic emotions lead them into their real troubles, and then help them restore themselves to wholeness. Their bodies can safely recall the trauma, while their minds translate freely, their emotions flow unencumbered, and their visions are welcomed. Sometimes this healing process requires the help of therapeutic tribes, while at other times it is a solitary movement, but the process is always totally original, deeply emotive, and stunningly beautiful. Real forgiveness is an intense healing journey with no shortcuts, no magical techniques, and no road map—it is a soul-making and culture-healing process that requires the fullness of a village inside you. Real forgiveness frees people and shoots them forward in consciousness, and that sort of movement only occurs in a resourced psyche where the body, the multiple intelligences, the visionary spirit, and all of the emotions are allowed to move freely. Real forgiveness can’t exist without true anger, true despair, true fear, and true emotional integrity. Anger and forgiveness are not bitterly warring enemies; they are essential and irreplaceable aspects of the process of fully healing and restoring the entire self, and this process can only be undertaken in a soulful, and therefore emotive, way.

McLaren, Karla (2010-06-01). The Language of Emotions (pp. 121-122). Sounds True. Kindle Edition.

[goldylamont]

actually, scratch the first quote--here are several more paragraphs leading up to what i posted above. it's my go-to for forgiveness related thinking. the whole chapter (and book) i find amazing. let me know if you enjoy 

Forgiveness is not an emotion, and it can’t take the place of one. It is a decision made by your whole self after your true emotional work has been done. You can’t move to forgiveness until your emotions move you consciously through stages one and two, because your emotions are the only things in your psyche that can move energies, memories, and imbalances into your awareness. Your body can hold your pain, and your mind and spirit can remember your pain, but until you know how you feel about your pain, you won’t be able to unearth it. If your pain is tucked very deeply into your unconscious (as traumas usually are), only strong and urgent emotions will be able to dislodge it. Therefore, the movement to the true forgiveness available in stage three often requires not just anger, but rage and fury; not just fear, but terror and panic; not just sadness, but despair and suicidal urges. Real forgiveness is not a dainty or delicate process—it’s a visceral and deeply emotive awakening from a trancelike state. It is, in essence, a return from the dead. Real, foundational forgiveness is a messy, loud, thrashing process of coming back from death into life. It looks on an empathic level like those animals I helped heal as a child. There’s shaking, kicking, grunting, trembling, and spitting—and then it’s done.

Real forgiveness isn’t a polite and teary gesture, made with a bowed head and demurely folded hands. Real forgiveness would never, ever say, “I see that you were doing the best you knew how, and I forgive you.” No! Real forgiveness has an entirely different take on the subject. Real forgiveness does not make excuses for other people’s improper behavior. Real forgiveness does not tell itself that everyone always does the best they know how, because that’s preposterous. Do you always do your best? Do I? Of course not! We all make mistakes, and we all do things we’re not proud of. Real forgiveness knows this; it doesn’t set itself up as an advocate for the tormentors in your life. It doesn’t make excuses for the disruptive behavior of others—because that sort of nonsense only increases your cycling between stages one and two.

Real forgiveness says, “I see that you were doing what worked for you at the time, but it never, ever worked for me!” Real forgiveness knows that real wounding took place; therefore, real fingers have to be pointed so that real movement through the underworld of suffering can occur. When that real movement has been made, real forgiveness raises you up off the ground, wipes off the spit, pulls the twigs out of your hair, and testifies, “You can’t hurt me anymore! It’s over and I’m free! You have no power in my life!” Real forgiveness is a process that creates true separations from torment and tormentors, and true separations require the proper application of boundary-restoring anger, or they won’t mean a thing. When your anger-supported boundaries are restored again, forgiveness will be as easy as falling off a log. Forgiveness naturally follows the honorable restoration of your sense of self. Anger and forgiveness are not opposing forces; they are completely equal partners in the true healing of your soul.

When people hear that forgiveness is good and anger is bad, they generally do that first kind of demure, head-bowing forgiveness. It looks very evolved and saintly on the outside, but it has very bad effects in the inner world. Forgiveness performed from the unconscious position of stages one and two does two things: it excuses the behavior of others, and it reduces our ability to be conscious and present with the pain we truly feel. When we rush to forgiveness, we lose our connection to our original wounds. Forgiving before we’ve fully engaged with our wounding only short-circuits the healing process. We tell ourselves we’re done because we’ve forgiven, but the wound and all of its attendant emotions only moves into the shadow. The pain goes underground—and then it goes haywire.

I’ve seen, for example, people forgive their fathers from stages one and two and then distrust all authority figures, or create insanely close relationships with people who behave just as their fathers did. The anger moves off the father and then oozes unchecked through their psyche and the world. I’ve seen people forgive their grandmothers before they’ve moved to stage three and then hate all women or all signs of the mature feminine, or enter into relationships and jobs that mimic exactly the emotional atmosphere of their early lives. Again, the grandmother is protected to a certain extent, but the individual and the world he or she inhabits becomes utterly toxic. When we forgive before we’re done feeling the effects of our initiatory experiences, we artificially remove our gaze from the actual wounding event or person. We lose our connection to our emotional realities and to the wounds we carry, and then those wounds careen and lurch unchecked throughout our lives and our culture. Forgiving from stages one and two creates nothing but more wounding.

In true forgiveness, we return to the original stage-one initiatory moment (to that sense or feeling) with the help of our boundary-defining anger and our intuition-restoring fear. Both emotions move us through imbalance and into understanding, and then they contribute the energy we need to move to blessed resolution. Working with our strong emotions (by learning their language and channeling them, rather than expressing or repressing them) restores our focus and our equilibrium. With the help of our emotions, our wounds become not never-ending tragedies, but specific portals through which we can discover our true resilience. Channeling our emotions properly allows us to arrive whole at the very center of our psyches—and from that place of restored equilibrium, forgiveness is a natural and simple thing.

Jesus said we should forgive seventy times seven times, and I don’t think he meant that we should find 490 people to transgress against us. I think Jesus was trying to tell us that deep wounds require more than just one pass through forgiveness before they are truly healed. Forgiveness, then, becomes a practice in itself. First, we might forgive after a bout of properly channeled fury, and we’ll get our boundaries back—our authentic and honored anger will help us rediscover our strength and separateness. Next, we might forgive after a bout of consciously welcomed terror, and we’ll retrieve our instincts—our honest and welcomed fear will help us become safer and saner in each day. Then, we might forgive after a bout of deep despair, and in awakening our crushed and broken hearts, we’ll become able to love again—even through pain and betrayal.

I’ve seen this process unfold many times in survivors of childhood trauma, whose wounds seem to wrap themselves throughout their psyches. I always suggest that these people go to the library and find books about the developmental processes that were occurring at the time of their traumas (such as the Your Two-Year-Old or Your Five-Year-Old books).[6] It’s fascinating reading, because early trauma insinuates itself into the learning and socialization processes of survivors. Depending on their age at the time of the trauma, people might have trauma responses swirled into their language skills (as I did), their hand-eye coordination, their eating behaviors, or their ability to attach and belong. Trauma at an early age can also predispose the brain toward learning and behavioral disabilities, and even ongoing depressive or anxiety disorders. For childhood trauma survivors, the process of forgiveness is quite lengthy (just as Jesus said it would be), because the trauma grows up with them. There’s not one decisive forgiveness episode; instead, forgiveness is a gradual process of strengthening and unwinding, strengthening and unwinding further, and so on. This gradual process helps trauma survivors separate their innate selves from their traumatic behaviors. Their authentic emotions lead them into their real troubles, and then help them restore themselves to wholeness. Their bodies can safely recall the trauma, while their minds translate freely, their emotions flow unencumbered, and their visions are welcomed. Sometimes this healing process requires the help of therapeutic tribes, while at other times it is a solitary movement, but the process is always totally original, deeply emotive, and stunningly beautiful.

Real forgiveness is an intense healing journey with no shortcuts, no magical techniques, and no road map—it is a soul-making and culture-healing process that requires the fullness of a village inside you. Real forgiveness frees people and shoots them forward in consciousness, and that sort of movement only occurs in a resourced psyche where the body, the multiple intelligences, the visionary spirit, and all of the emotions are allowed to move freely. Real forgiveness can’t exist without true anger, true despair, true fear, and true emotional integrity. Anger and forgiveness are not bitterly warring enemies; they are essential and irreplaceable aspects of the process of fully healing and restoring the entire self, and this process can only be undertaken in a soulful, and therefore emotive, way.

McLaren, Karla (2010-06-01). The Language of Emotions (p. 122). Sounds True. Kindle Edition.

[Turkish]

Thanks goldy, I am doing well, relatively. That is interesting material, and my finger hovers over the button to add it to my digital stack (the quotes sound better than the even good reviews imply).

Miller sounds a little black and white for me, but I will finish the book I started.

I think I've realized that much like the stages of forgiveness Karla talks about, I still have not done it. In 1997, I told my mom I forgave her for my childhood, was met with a tearful nod and a thank you, and I thereafter moved 700 miles away out of state for three years. I didn't move due to her (I was already 8 years and over 100 miles out of her home), but I was running to escape, only to find I took myself with me. So when career called, I found it was ok to come back, even though I liked living better in the other state.

My trauma must have been unresolved, which played a part in why I stayed with my uBPDx, despite being frustrated with her from the first date. Leaving Board stuff, I won't go into it here.

I thought about it tonight, praying with S4 (who thanked God for Mommy and Daddy to protect him, his toys, and spaghetti). I don't act out grudges explicitly, but maybe I do have a hard time really forgiving. Those stages, and it's hard.

A few years ago my mom admitted that she "may have crossed the line into abuse" when one time she was raging on me so badly that I had a seizure and fell to the ground. Yeah, she "may have" crossed the line. Luckily we were standing on dirt and not rocks or cement. That incident stopped it for a week, perhaps. Less than two years earlier, she literally almost killed me when I heat stroked due to her dysregulation. I really should have run off that day when I was 12; I knew she wasn't thinking straight. It was the closest I've ever been to dying that I can remember. It certainly felt like it: first my body, then my brain shutting down.

It's tough because as children we don't want to give up the belief that our caregivers loved us. Without love, a child withers and dies inside. Those are the "strokes" that Bern talked about in the 1960s when he developed the theory of transactional analysis.

Stages... .like the survivor's guide here, or like those in the book you quoted. I thought I was further along, but perhaps not. Middle age, or any age, isn't too late. Thanks again for the resource, goldylamont. Without challenge, there is no growth.

[goldylamont]

I thought about it tonight, praying with S4 (who thanked God for Mommy and Daddy to protect him, his toys, and spaghetti).

that has got to be the cutest thing i've read for a very long time Turkish! i've said this before, but your children are so blessed to have you in their lives to love them, give them guidance and protection. every ounce of attention you give them however flawed you may feel at times is living proof of your growth and integrity--you are breaking the cycle of abuse that you had to endure with the next generation. some people never get there. it just warms my heart whenever i hear you talking about your children.

A few years ago my mom admitted that she "may have crossed the line into abuse" when one time she was raging on me so badly that I had a seizure and fell to the ground. Yeah, she "may have" crossed the line. Luckily we were standing on dirt and not rocks or cement. That incident stopped it for a week, perhaps. Less than two years earlier, she literally almost killed me when I heat stroked due to her dysregulation. I really should have run off that day when I was 12; I knew she wasn't thinking straight. It was the closest I've ever been to dying that I can remember. It certainly felt like it: first my body, then my brain shutting down.

It's tough because as children we don't want to give up the belief that our caregivers loved us. Without love, a child withers and dies inside. Those are the "strokes" that Bern talked about in the 1960s when he developed the theory of transactional analysis.

this was hard for me to read. it's beyond me what this must have felt like Turkish. i missed a lot of your more recent posts so i'm not sure if you've discussed it before. you mentioned that your mother was abusive or neglectful in ways but i never heard these specific stories. i almost feel foolish saying this, but i am so sorry that you had to endure this. i just want to scream right now, or cry maybe. i think these events are ones that may need to be revisited with your matured awareness, re-experienced in a safer environment in order to completely pass from stage 2 into stage 3... .

and regarding the stages--i'm just re-reading a lot of this now, i think i may just read the book again. the stages that Ms (Dr?) McLaren are speaking of are not stages of forgiveness. there is a whole previous chapter that discusses tribal initiations and the lack thereof in our modern/western cultures. i'll post some more excerpts below from this chapter. it takes me a while to re-format it so it looks right but this just feels to important not to share right now. i do hope you enjoy it as much as i do. take care Turkish!

[goldylamont]

THE JOURNEY INTO THE UNDERWORLD—AND THE JOURNEY BACK OUT

Mythologist Michael Meade has explained the three stages of tribal initiation:

1.  Being isolated or separated from the known world

2.  Having an ordeal or brush with death

3.  Being recognized and welcomed back as an initiated person

Tribal initiations are performed as a way to guide tribe members through life’s transitions. Rituals and ceremonies guide tribe members from conception through birth, from birth into childhood, from adolescence into adulthood, from marriage and mating into elderhood, and from elderhood into death and ancestral status. Many tribal societies create a container and a foundation from which all growth and transition can be understood and overseen. Stories and legends, dance and music, art and culture, and deep connectedness create tribal identity, while initiation marks important passages in individual and tribal life. Tellingly, most quaternal or five-element cosmologies spring from indigenous cultures.

In nonindigenous cultures, that wholeness is not in evidence. Much has been said about the freedom and individuality nontribal societies enjoy, but just as much has been said about the price paid for that freedom. Our individualistic Western culture has grown in ways tradition-bound tribal societies cannot, but we’ve also decayed in ways tribal societies have not. Our disconnection from Mother Earth and the quaternity is an unhappy result of splitting away from tribalism, yet our growing ability to tolerate diverse cultures and create complex communication systems that connect all people is a happy result. Neither way of life is ideal; both have their healing and destructive aspects. The healthiest society is probably somewhere between the two opposites in that sacred middle realm, but we’re not yet in that sacred place. The opposing social structures have made contact, but it is not yet fully conscious contact. Much of the movement toward spirituality in nonindigenous cultures is a movement toward ancestral wisdom—toward ritual, ceremony, initiation, and connection to the deeper currents of life. Conversely, many tribespeople feel stifled and trapped in the amber of their ancient tribal customs.

We nonindigenous peoples live in a quandary: we value our freedom from tradition and tribalism, while at the same time we’re drawn inexorably toward them. This should not be surprising since we all come from tribal societies in the first place. Each one of us can hearken back to African or Middle Eastern tribes, to Celtic or Viking tribes, to Asian or East Indian tribes, to Native American tribes, or to the island tribes of the South Pacific. Our tribal selves still live inside us, and our ancestral DNA has hundreds of thousands of years of indigenous memory that competes with a mere handful of hundreds of years of modern life. Our ancestors still speak to us from within the voice of fire. Our bodies still resonate to season, place, and rhythm. Our multiple intelligences still know how to translate symbols and impulses from deep within the subconscious. Our emotions still remember their sacred function as carriers of deep wisdom, just as our psyches still require ceremony, ritual, and initiation in order to live and grow properly. We moderns have moved out of our tribes for the most part, but tribal wisdom has not moved out of our psyches.

Traumatic injury in childhood has been equated with a kind of unconscious initiation ceremony—not because it is a spiritual or ceremonial experience, but because the movements within it mimic the movements of the first two stages of real initiation. Understanding the stages of initiation (and the ways in which traumatic incidents mimic initiation) will give us a greater understanding of what trauma does to the psyche, to our culture, and sociologically speaking, to us as a species.

Stage One: Separation from the Known World

In tribal initiation, stage one is an organized, expected removal from the parents and the everyday patterns of the tribe. Tribal children are brought up to expect initiation; they and their families prepare for it and are fully aware of its presence in their lives. In trauma, however, there is no preparation. Traumatic stage one is a disorganized removal from the known world—a sudden, shocking, and wholly unexpected end to normalcy. The stranger approaches, the loved one betrays you, the doctor comes near, or the play becomes ugly—and it begins.

Stage Two: A Brush with Death

Tribal stage two is an organized ordeal, such as a walkabout, a ritual scarring,[5] or a solitary journey. Though there is pain and fear involved, there is also a container created by the tribe and the overseeing adults. The walkabouts and journeys occur on tribal lands where trackers abound; the scarring and ornamentations are usually performed by adults who have a certain expertise at what they do; and the ordeal has a definite end-point, which the initiates are aware of on some level. In trauma, there is no organization to the ordeal and no promise of an end. Traumatic stage two is the out-of-control moment of the assault—the beating, the yelling, the unwelcome touch that separates spirit from body, or the beginning of the operation. The traumatic brush with death has no container, no safety hatch, no ancestral guidance, and no clear endpoint. In regard to surgeries performed on children, some would say that surgical procedures are performed by expert adults, and that they have a clear end-point; however, since they often involve restraints, anesthetics, and the specter of death or disability that cannot be discussed openly—especially by children—they often create lasting traumas.

Stage Three: Being Welcomed as an Initiated Person

Tribal stage three is the celebration, during which the entire tribe recognizes the new person and welcomes him or her as an initiated and valued member of the tribe. The initiate does not return home as the same person; expectations change, responsibilities shift, and a new life begins. Sadly, in trauma there is no stage three; there is no welcoming back for trauma survivors. Traumatic initiations are usually performed in secret or are an established part of the shadow life of the family or the neighborhood. There is no one to tell the trauma victim that he or she has survived a deathlike ordeal and has come out the other side as a new being. There is no conscious acknowledgment of the sudden end of childhood or normalcy, and there is certainly no celebration.

In traumatic initiations, stages one and two occur without sense or reason. The regular world stops, the horror begins, and there is no protective ceremony, no overseer of the process, and certainly no welcoming back. Therefore, there is no way for trauma survivors to take their place as conscious and initiated members of society. When stage three does not occur, initiates (tribal or traumatic) are left in limbo. This is why the third stage of any initiatory process is crucial. Without it, the initiation and the initiate are unfinished, and the tribe is incomplete.

[goldylamont]

When Stage Three Does Not Occur

Tribal knowledge says that if stage three is not completed (for whatever reason), the initiate must cycle through the first two stages of initiation once again. Initiation is a three-stage process that does not conclude until all three stages have been completed. I have found that the psyche concurs with tribal wisdom on this point. The rule in the human psyche seems to be that stages one and two of trauma will be repeated until stage three occurs. Suffering ceases to be suffering only after we have formed a clear and precise picture of it, and that clarity only occurs in stage three. We cannot form a clear picture of traumatic suffering from the sudden separation of stage one or from the unfinished ordeal of stage two. There must be an end to trauma and an understanding of trauma before we can truly exit our traumatic initiations.

In initiatory tribal cultures, an unfinished initiate will be cycled through the initiation ritual once again, and he or she will be welcomed properly at the successful conclusion of the completed ritual. In noninitiatory cultures where unfinished trauma reigns, the psyche will revisit stages one and two in whatever way it can—by repressing the trauma and re-creating it in the inner world, or by expressing the trauma and re-creating it for others. The trauma will be kept alive because the initiation ritual will still be in progress. When there is no welcoming and no validation of the life-altering ordeal that has been survived, there will be no possibility of exiting the traumatic initiation. The psyche will intentionally cycle through stages one and two until resolution is achieved. In nonindigenous cultures such as ours, we call this cycling post-traumatic stress disorder when it is repressive, and abusiveness or criminality when it is expressive.

When we can understand the essence of initiation, however, we can see that both responses to traumatic initiations—both the repressive self-abuse and the expressive abuse of others—are unconscious repetitions of stages one and two. When we cycle unrelieved trauma through our inner or outer world, we’re still very much in the process of initiation. We continue to separate ourselves (or others) from the known world, and we continue to enter or create ordeals in the desperate hope that stage three—the welcoming back—will occur. We may drop into unmanageable depressions, addictions, or neuroses. We may ingeniously seek out jobs and relationships that remind us of the atmosphere of our original traumas, or we may traumatize others. For many of us, these behaviors will lead to therapy or recovery, which can provide a kind of stage three.

In therapy or recovery groups, we can be welcomed into a world where our suffering is understood. We can help ourselves and other survivors make sense of turmoil, and we can speak freely and openly about our traumas, thereby ending the cycling. Though healing often occurs in these situations, many people remain attached to their therapists or their recovery or healing groups for years or even decades, simply because it’s the only place they’re seen in any stage-three sort of way. To stand up and say, “Hi, I’m Bob, and I’m an alcoholic,” and to have the whole room be proud of your honesty, to have the whole room respond with, “Hi, Bob,” is a stage-three experience. We may laugh at twelve-step groups and self-healing junkies, but these therapies provide many of us with our only experience of being welcomed by a tribe that sees our initiation for what it was.

For others who are not as lucky, stage three occurs in prison, where they’re welcomed by a tragic group of fellow initiates. Prison life can be incredibly tribal (and incredibly unconscious), and initiations occur there as a matter of course. Tribes are based on skin color, gang affiliations, and criminal background, and in these tribes people experience a kind of brutal welcome. The trauma does not usually end; rather, tribe members are often organized and taught to be more skilled at traumatizing themselves and others. The true essence of stage three—the welcome into a new life after stages one and two have been concluded—doesn’t often happen in prison tribes. The rough prison welcome doesn’t put an end to trauma, but any welcome is better than no welcome at all. This is why it’s so amazingly difficult to break away from criminality and prison tribal life; something in the psyche is fed when initiations and welcomings (however crude) occur. The tribal parts of our brains respond to tribal rituals, even if we have no conscious understanding that the rituals are occurring. Prison tribes (and the tribal street gangs that so often lead to prison) provide a powerful and seductive facsimile of welcome for the most damaged and resourceless members of our society. As a result, the criminal underclass becomes a powerful tribe of its own, one that supports and exploits trauma survivors at the very same time.

McLaren, Karla (2010-06-01). The Language of Emotions (p. 105). Sounds True. Kindle Edition.

……

…In my empathic healing practice, I saw people who had been through many kinds of therapies, including these unintentionally tribal modalities. In most cases, I saw people after they had moved into “survivor” status—they were no longer victims, they had fully identified their wounds, they understood them intellectually, and they could monitor themselves for signs of traumatic reenactments or post-traumatic behaviors. Yet still they felt unfinished, as if something had been forgotten. They were right—many things had been forgotten, such as their visionary fire elements, which could tell them where trauma came from (and where it’s going), or their earthy bodies, which in many cases still held on to traumatic events, no matter how much intellectual understanding had been achieved. There was also their oceanic emotions, which constantly attempted to lead them (or force them) into a deeper understanding of their trauma. These survivors were often quite confused; their therapeutic tribes had pronounced them cured, yet their physical symptoms, their emotional upheavals, and their spiritual or visionary emptiness continued unabated. Clearly, something was unfinished.

THE VILLAGE THAT WELCOMES YOU HOME

When your fully resourced psyche can be brought to bear on your trauma (however and whenever it occurred), the sacred wound at the center of your trauma can be revealed. The first task in restoring your wholeness is to reintegrate yourself (we’ll learn how throughout the rest of this book). This reintegration is a form of self-welcoming that paves the way for the blessed movement into stage three. When the village inside you is reestablished, your traumatic memories can be addressed in deep and ceremonial ways, because your far-ranging eagle nature will be able to provide an overview of the situation. When your full awareness is embodied once again, true healing can occur because your suffering will cease when your consciousness is brought to bear upon it. When your vision and your multiple intelligences can track the trauma’s origins, you can take your honorable place in the currents of time and culture—not just in the culture of your specific trauma, but in the whole of human history. When your psyche is reintegrated and all of your resources return to your psyche, trauma ceases to be trauma; instead, it becomes a portal through which you pass on your way to wholeness.

McLaren, Karla (2010-06-01). The Language of Emotions (p. 107). Sounds True. Kindle Edition.

……

THE END WILL BE BEAUTIFUL

The French author and trauma survivor Jean Genet spoke to the heart of this three-stage healing process in his harrowing written account of his own post-traumatic journey, The Thief’s Journal: “Acts must be carried through to their completion. Whatever their point of departure, the end will be beautiful. It is because an action has not been completed that it is vile [italics mine].” When we cycle unconsciously through the dismal first and second stages of unrelieved trauma, our actions are vile—not because we’re vile or life is vile, but simply because we don’t move to completion. When we don’t know of the third stage, all we can see is the vileness of trauma. We cannot grasp the beauty and power that live on the other side of the wound, and we cannot see an end worth working toward. In response, we repress our true emotions, memories, and traumas, and tumble into desperate and unconscious post-traumatic replays. We attempt to distract or dissociate ourselves from our wounds, but our denial only intensifies our cycling through the first two stages of unconscious initiation. We may seek practices,

McLaren, Karla (2010-06-01). The Language of Emotions (p. 110). Sounds True. Kindle Edition.