33 Years: Why It’s Time To Tell My Story
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April 1st 1985.
It was the first Monday of Holy Week. Little was I to know it would become the moment my life descended into hell.
I still remember. I remember the lights of the ambulance lighting up my bedroom window. I remember creeping downstairs in a hallway lit up mainly by outside lights, seeing the ambulance outside. And I remember walking into our front lounge, seeing my mum, sitting in the chair.
Pale white.
Frozen.
Not breathing.
Mouth open.
Eyes looking downwards, not moving.
She was completely still. Her body paralysed by a severe asthma attack.
As I looked at her, it was like time stood still. I was only 8 years old. I had no idea what was happening. It was just me and her, frozen in a moment in time. Nothing else existing, but us.
Then suddenly, chaos.
My dad burst into the room with the ambulance people. Before I knew it, my mum was on a stretcher being taken into the ambulance. A babysitter arrived and my dad drove behind the ambulance to the hospital. It was the last time I saw my mum for a month. And the next time I saw her, she would be very different.
It all happened so fast I barely could register it. I was probably in shock. A shy, sensitive, sheltered 8 year old, seeing such raw suffering right in front of me. I still have no idea what that did to me.
But I do know that was the night that everything changed. Everything that happened since pivoted on that moment.
Today
Now, 33 years later, April 1st , the day I wrote this post, was resurrection Sunday. It’s come full circle. What began on the first day of Holy Week, had led me here, 33 years on, on resurrection Sunday – the end of Holy week. The sun is rising on a new day, on a new season.
It’s time to tell my story. My whole life, whilst many people know some of the story of my childhood trauma, I’ve never told the story.
So instead, the story has told me. Because that’s what happens when we don’t share our stories. As my friend Laura says, if we don’t share our stories, we’ll tell our stories one way or another.
I’ve told my story in overeating, in anger, in bitterness, and habits I’m ashamed of.
The story of a child whose voice was never heard. A child who was neglected. A child who learned to trust no one and not let anyone get too close. A child who blamed himself for the destruction of his parents marriage, and for not saving his mother from death.
A child living inside a man’s body, slowly trying to kill him.
Because he felt he deserved it. Because he felt worthless, a failure.
My inner child believed the story I was worthless, unimportant, a failure, a loser, not worth respect, not worth listening to, and who deserved nothing good. That’s the story I told with my life for so long.
And even though I’ve forgiven, and got healing and transformation for past trauma, the stories, the neuro pathways forged by those bad stories, are still there.
I’m only at the beginning or rewriting those stories, rewiring my brain. It’s hard work. It will take time. Because it’s not about convincing or rewiring my conscious self. It’s about rewiring the silent, subconscious parts of my brain. Changing the stories deep down, changing my instincts, changing habits, the automatic habits we all have when we’re tired – which is where we find the truth.
This is part of my healing. Research has shown writing to be a big factor in our transformation, healing, and telling better stories. So I am going to write my story. Some of it I’ll share, some of it I may not.
I tell this story for myself. And I share it, in the hope that maybe, it might give hope and solidarity to someone else.
I’m not being quiet anymore. Today is the beginning of my own resurrection.
And resurrection begins with darkness, death, trauma and suffering. And we go through that cycle again, and again. Death, then despair, then new life, new hope…the joy. This is the cycle of growth. The engine room of life.
The sun of resurrection has just appeared on the horizon. It may take time for it to rise fully. And in those moments, I’ll still be working things through. Maybe I’ll always be working things through, even when resurrection has done it’s work.
But this story is going to be told.
On my terms.
Beginning today.
*****
(Picture Source: Ed Dunens via Creative Commons)
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Thanks for sharing your whole story James. It takes courage.
Thanks Wendy, I appreciate the encouragement.
James, thank you for your courage to share. I believe you can be healed although the journey is tough but freedom that illusive gift is possible
Thank you Kate, yes, the journey is tough for sure – but I do believe freedom is possible.
Releasing it out into the open is the beginning of healing on the inside. Thank you for your transparency James.
Thanks for the encouragement Mike – really grateful.
James so proud of you for sharing your story! May you and all the others who have bottled their own stories find strength and courage through your sharing this ❤️.
Thank you Mariana, that means so much!
Brave, brave James. There was good forged in that trauma, too. I pray you find the treasure amongst the dirt as you keep sifting,
Thank you Jane, so so grateful for your encouragement and support.
Thanks for sharing your story. Our stories can be rewritten with courage and perseverance.
Thank you Karen.
Taking the time to learn how your story shaped you, and heal from old emotional wounds is the best work we can do. You do have the choice to tell your story and to no longer be defined by it. Look for the blessings and the strength in it. Proud of you for doing the work. It is challenging at times, but always worth it!
Thank you so much for these kind words Tammy, that’s so so encouraging – thank you!
I love this so much! Truth-telling, soul searching and surviving…wow, James, you are leading (so many) with your sensitive courage. It will be a blessing to read your journey as you deem fit to share it. You own it and your story is already magnificent!
Thank you so much Ronna-Renee – so grateful for your encouragement.
You are being so true to your self and your story is yours to tell. I can not wait to see where these steps will take you. Congratulations to you and your enter strength.
Thanks Sherry!!
My mom was taken away in an ambulance when I was 4. When she came home, she was a different person. Devastating to a child and affected my entire life. I understand what you’ve gone through. You definitely need to get it out of you.
Thanks for sharing a bit of your story Nancy – that’s so courageous. And it’s so good to know we’re not alone, isn’t it? Thank you.
It’s your story – you get to tell it. And taking control of the telling will hopefully help you influence others who are struggling to tell their stories. I’m proud of you.
Thank you Denise, that means a lot to me.
James, this is a bit haunting and a bit beautiful. Thank you for being brave enough to share this story. How are you feeling now that it’s out there for the world to read?
I love how you said this: “A child living inside a man’s body, slowly trying to kill him.” I think that’s really a great summary of so much childhood trauma, big or small. When we can’t move past it, or address it, it starts to destroy us.
Thank you for telling your story on your terms.
Thank you for your encouragement and support – it means so much to have people respond in such an a kind and generous way. Thanks.
First, thanks for sharing this. Second, I can’t wait to see how much this story will help you heal and also help others heal as well. This is HUGE. Thanks again for sharing this!
Thanks for this comment and encouragement Jim – I value your support, opinion and friendship so much. So grateful.
This was beautifully written and time it was written and told. Prayers for strength and wisdom in telling it. What a beautiful day to start over.
Thank you so much Stella…so grateful.
Thank you for this, James. I thought of a few others (including yours truly) as I read this…those of us who have chosen to no longer be defined by our pain.
James, so incredibly brave and equally as beautiful. Looking forward to seeing where this story takes you.
Thank you for showing so much authenticity in your writing, James. It takes so much courage to share our stories!
Thanks for sharing, James! Congratulations on beginning to tell your story. I’m so sorry to hear how it’s affected you. May you be blessed in every way in the process of continuing to tell your story! 🙂
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