My Body Kept the Score

Six months ago, like a silent alarm triggered by a thief of peace, my body started screaming. Mourning. It launched a countdown clock, without my permission, to an anniversary that I did not intend to acknowledge.

My body has kept the score.

It began as a hint of sadness which became a debilitating darkness, preventing me from finding happiness in any part of my life. I fled to corners to cry, avoided conversations with those I loved, and pondered whether to keep going. Darkness morphed into anxiety, tingling through my body, leaving me short of breath and overwhelmed.

By all accounts my life at the time was terrific. It was start of my favorite season with sunshine, flowers coming to life, and the freedoms of summer. I am well-loved and have a clear purpose with the opportunity to fulfill it.

Like many in this situation, I felt shame for daring to be sad. No, depressed.

Had I not done the emotional work to heal from my trauma? Counseling, learning to speak up, closing the door to hurtful relationships, and inviting in only healthy ones. Yes.

But my body begged to differ, telling me that it is still holding pain in its own memory.

Bessel A. van der Kolk, author of The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma suggests that it is not the traumatic events, but our reactions to them that stay with us – the embodied trauma - and that “physical self-awareness is the first step in releasing the tyranny of the past.”

There it is. I have been working on myself but not on my WHOLE self. My healing process has focused on my thinking patterns while neglecting the muscle memories and the toxins that became deeply embedded in the physicality of me.

Along this journey, I stopped in my tracks (read: burst into tears in the middle of the store) when I found this pillow. 

An acknowledgment of the need to embrace it all. To savor the moments of bright joy and to lean into the moments of lonely darkness to discover what can be learned there.

What I do know is that the light will get through.

And so, on this 10-year anniversary, I sit in self-care. I acknowledge what my body needs today and begin the next phase of whole-bodied healing.