I have been processing trauma again for the past 4 months triggered by difficult situations at work, financial insecurity, and the absence of my husband who has yet to be able to visit Canada. The result: I have not written in a long time. I have had nothing to say, nothing that would lift up or help to inspire another, not even myself.

I have been mired in grief. I have been self-medicating. I have been avoiding my friends. I have been hiding, and remaining isolated when not required to be “on” at work. Instead of facing issues head-on I have avoided looking at them. I have ignored what was obvious, what required my attention, and that which needed my loving compassion. Instead I have distracted myself with things I find pleasurable: work, alcohol, marijuana, food, sleep, and television. However, eventually, I grow tired of the self-inflicted punishment and numbness, find anew the strength to pull myself back up out of the quagmire of trauma and self-pity, and I return to myself.

I have spent years working through and healing from the sexual and spiritual abuse I was subjected to as a 13-year old, yet despite all the personal work I have done I still find myself overwhelmed at times and I revert back to less healthy coping mechanisms; some part of me still twisted by trauma seeks to escape, to run, to avoid facing and dealing with the root of the problem. It is easier to escape into the bottom of a bottle or the butt of a joint, than it is to face the harsh reality that even when you think you might be done, there is still more to process, still more areas untouched by healing, self-love, respect, sensitivity, empathy or compassion.

Oddly, taking the time to face trauma and heal always sounds selfish; however, the reality is that my coping mechanisms are what make me selfish, for example isolating myself and avoiding friends so I don’t have to admit that there is something wrong or that I may need some help or support. By hiding, isolating, and refusing to engage I am aware I am harming my relationships and yet my default is to pull away and protect myself at all cost.

Healing always feels like three steps forward and two steps backwards, yet there is still progress even if I can’t see it or refuse to recognize it at the time. Much like an onion, with each layer I heal and peel away, I discover another layer that needs my attention and loving compassion. Healing, much like living, is a constant, not a one-time-and-done event; healing requires my consistent, focused attention. I have never experienced any part of my healing journey while self-medicating because all that accomplishes is to push away, briefly, what I refuse to see or face.

It takes courage and extraordinary vulnerability to face trauma, and a curiosity to explore those parts of ourselves which scare us, and which we seek to hide from others, but those are the very parts of ourselves that need to be healed the most.