Healing is a journey.  As we begin our healing, we bring our entire existence, our whole stories and our whole selves, every person and being we have ever interacted with, every experience we have had, whether consciously remembered or not, on that path with us.  We may not knowingly be aware of it, but all those things get packed up in our luggage and we carry it along.  We may not identify the load we are carrying but we can feel its weight.  We can feel it in our responses, in our interactions, in our stress, in how we eat, how we sleep, how we love ourselves, how we love others.  All of it joins us on our path. 

As we heal, pieces and parts of the contents of that luggage no longer have a place or space, and we wash them away in the rivers and creeks, during the rainstorms, with our tears.  Other pieces and parts will always stay with us because they are weaved into the fabric of the luggage we carry, but they get lighter, less noticeable.  They fade and lose impact.  The last kind of pieces and parts also stay with us, but they change.  They become something different.  They become resilience, strength, character, empathy, wisdom, courage, compassion, and so much more.  As you continue along on the healing journey, you will begin to feel your load lessen, you will begin to see the things you left behind, how other things have changed (and changed you), and how there are things that deserve your awareness but not your full attention. 

I believe that when something triggers us, it is a sign that there is a dysregulation in our nervous system, something has been left unhealed, and we have a spot along our healing journey that we must attend to.  Triggers are reminders of the pains of our pasts, but they can also be signals for healing and growth in our present.  There is no guarantee that the triggers we experience will disappear entirely but with some support and personalized healing techniques, many triggers can be reduced to more of an irritant than a day or week or month crusher.

I’ll share a personal example: 

On April 20, 2005, exactly seventeen years ago today, I was raped.

Over the next couple of months, I basically laid in bed.  I had very little drive to go to work and often wouldn’t, I frequently skipped classes and skimped on homework, I quit seeing my friends, I checked the locks on my door repeatedly, I had to always have a TV on because any noise or sound of someone outside of my apartment would startle me, I had nightmares, I was afraid to leave the house, I was afraid to run into “him.”  I was embarrassed.  I felt shame.  I felt like it was all my fault.  I didn’t want anyone to know.  I think I would have died in that bed just trying to sleep or dissociate away what had happened.  Then, one day one of my supervisors from work called to fire me.  Something sparked in me, probably a survival instinct (I will be homeless if I don’t pay my rent and I can’t pay my rent without a paycheck), and I broke down crying and told her everything.  Thankfully, I worked at an amazing organization and the director of human resources gave me another chance with the stipulation that I go to a therapist and work through my trauma.  At that point, not being homeless was a motivating factor, enough to push me to get the help I so desperately needed, so I agreed.  That director of human resources very well could have saved my life by how she handled the situation, and I will always be thankful.

I was in my early 20s when this all happened, partially through a bachelor’s degree in psychology, and didn’t know much about therapy and treatment and trauma, quite frankly.  I picked a random female counselor who took my insurance and set up my first appointment.  I met with her a few times, and then she suggested I try EMDR, which I had never heard of.  I was willing to try anything, so I agreed.  After 5 sessions of EMDR (no two experiences are the same), my nightmares were gone, the flashbacks were gone, the hyperarousal that I had been experiencing was reduced to manageable levels.  I didn’t feel like my pre-rape self, but I felt better.  I felt like I could go forward in the world again.  And that is what I did.  Until the following April. 

April came around and the nightmares started again.  The hyperarousal returned.  The flashbacks were frequent.  What was happening to me?  Hadn’t I figured this all out and resolved these issues?  It wasn’t until many, many years later that I learned about how our bodies remember and that anniversaries can be times in which things rise to the surface and we can have a return of symptoms.  I returned to counseling and did EMDR on a few occasions, usually in April. Over the years the best that I could get to was an almost complete elimination of symptoms all year long except in April.  I felt that after what I had experienced and having a PTSD diagnosis, it could be worse.  I went along with my life and was a healthy and happy member of society.  Then April would come around and I’d be a mess.  There were a few times that I even forgot about the anniversary and would ask myself why I was in such a terrible mood or why everything was causing me such stress, or why I had such an emotional reaction to everything.  Then one day I would have a nightmare, or a flashback and it would hit me.  Duh!  Anniversary.  Looking back on it with the knowledge I have today, it all makes perfect sense, but at the time it was so strange and quite unnerving. 

As time has gone on and I have advanced my education and experience and become an expert in trauma, I have found that EMDR is a fantastic modality for many people (it obviously worked for me) but there are so many more that can be used outside of a therapist’s office which are also very effective.  Many of these things can be taught to a person and they can use them in their own time and in their own space.  I now do that for myself and for others.  April is now different for me.  It is a time of greater self-care, where I focus on the things that make me happy and try to make new and wonderful memories.  April is a month of regulation, nature, and love.  April is still a time when I am more sensitive to things than I normally would be but there are no nightmares, there are no flashbacks, there is no extreme hyperarousal.  I am the same me with a slightly lower tolerance for stress and a slightly higher potential of tears when I feel an emotion. 

When I talk about the luggage we take with us on our healing journey, this experience from seventeen years ago is one of mine that is woven into the fabric.  It has changed.  The impact is less.  It has faded but has not completely disappeared and I don’t know if it ever will.  It is manageable and bearable and has been for quite a long time now.  I anticipate that it will continue that way but if it does stir back up, I know what to do and how to help myself.  It will be a point in my journey that deserves my attention.

I don’t think that healing is a journey with a destination, an end point.  But many other things come along on the path like freedom, change and growth, ups and downs, control or a release of the need for control, resilience, and a sense of calm.  So as each one of us embarks upon or continues on our unique healing journeys, remember that the pieces and parts we take along in our luggage don’t always disappear, but they can be reduced to a minor irritant with intention and the right techniques.  I hope you find your luggage lighter, and your attention focused on things that bring you contentment and peace.