I have discussions often about what makes someone take the plunge in to recovery. I have heard many opinions from those on the journey. And I have come up with a few theories.
1) Those who are carrying the most pain are more likely to start the journey because the pain cannot be tolerated on a daily basis.
2) Those who have more sensitive minds and bodies are more likely to take the plunge because they are more impacted by the pain of the trauma.
3) Those who are more likely to consider that which is unseen (in any form at all) are more likely to consider recovery.
That being said, the decision to move in the direction of recovery does seem to happen on a level that is not of the mind. It is a decision that involves anything but the mind. It seems as though a switch is flipped and the train leaves the station. And once that proverbial train has left the station, there is very little our ego selves can do to stop it. With much effort, we can slow it down, but the journey has begun and it cannot be stopped.
This is what I have thought for a while now. But I was thinking today about the motivation for taking this journey. And I have realized that mine has changed … sort of. When I started recovery, my motivation was similar to many in the survivor community. I wanted to be a better parent to my children, a parent that would not perpetuate the abuse from my past. I spent many years focusing on what was needed to break the cycle. And about a year ago, I came to a good place.
I felt good about the parent I had become. I wasn’t a perfect parent because there is no such thing, but I could manage the day without significant anxiety, yelling or other forms of parental meltdowns. I thought, “Hey. I’ve become a semi-confident, semi-competent parent. This is a good place to be.” And now, as I look back on things, I realize my train started to slow down. I was almost content.
But there was a problem. I had dipped my toe in to the world of helping others. I tried finding a role within a non-profit organization that was right for me, but that didn’t work out. And when my anxiety picked up in the spring, I considered taking another job in the corporate world and abandoning the whole thing. But my heart (and direction) appeared to be set on moving toward a career of my own making. It was not meant to be a hobby. And that meant there was more work to do.
Even though I had tackled many of the beliefs that were slapping me in the face while I parented, I had not journeyed deep enough to address the beliefs that were standing in my way of a successful business. Some of these beliefs were entrenched in scarcity. Some of these beliefs were related to futility. Some were all about self worth. And all of them seemed insurmountable. But in hindsight, I now realize that the train started speeding up again. I even remember when it happened. I realized on an unconscious level that there was more work to do. And I decided that my fledging business was worth it.
And so, maybe there are decision points along the journey. Maybe the switch doesn’t just get flipped once. Or maybe it does and slow downs (not stops) are a part of the process. But one thing is certain. My motivation shifted from parenting to my life’s purpose outside of my family. And it leaves me in a curious place. I wonder. Will there be another slow down? It is probably inevitable. Will there be another time when I think I have come far enough only to discover a new motivation, a new amazing adventure awaiting my willingness to take the next step on the journey? It is probably inevitable. Does it mean that there is no real end to recovery? Maybe. But it isn’t meant to be a pessimistic view. Maybe we come to a point where the work is not about making it through another day. Maybe we come to a point where the work is facilitating something amazing. It seems possible, maybe even inevitable.
So keep going.
Keep fueling that train on the journey.
Sometimes it will go full speed ahead. Sometimes it will slow down maybe even seem to be stopping.
But there is no doubt in my mind … we are all going places.
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great post!
Thank you Beth!
Beautiful post! Recovery is ongoing. It is a lifelong process. A necessary journey that has a variety of momentums and intensities. It is all worth allowing yourself to be?
Thank you! Agreed!
I just think you are absolutely amazing. <3
Thank you so much Iva! You are amazing too. I love what you are doing in your own life.
? Another opportunity to say, “Me too!” I also started for my kids and creating a better world for them. But then, a slight divergence from you, my train picked up speed and was travelling at break-neck speed.
And now, now I cautiously, ever-so-hesitatingly am beginning to feel I’m doing it for me. There are moments when I feel something powerful being born inside. And then there are moments when I wonder if what I felt was really happening. I choose to believe it is, to side with my deeper innate self that knows much more about life than I will ever intellectually experience.
The give-back portion for me happens in a smaller, everyday way for me. I cherish and value your work here, you have been a light for me.
Xo
Thank you! That is awesome. It is true too. We are ultimately doing it for ourselves, but it may take a while to realize that. Keep siding with that innate self. She knows the truth.
Great post! Having begun my Journey over and over at various stages in my adult life, I can REALLY relate to your feelings about a career/life work. It’s exactly where I’m at at 58.
I began to heal after moving out at 18 a few was. after high school graduation. I thought if I was not near my perp (dad), I would be fine. Not true.
I began drinking and smoking pot which curiously were the only times I felt any emotion. Of course, I fell in love bc I now had freedom. No curfews. No one cutting off my calls mid-sentence bc he was jealous which was mortifying and hard to explain to the boys I was dating. They usually ran off the second time that happened anyway so there was nothing to explain.
But a few years later when my “true love” got involved with someone else and I found out about it, it was obvious we were not meant for marriage: It was over.
The reality of that abandonment pushed me over the edge and I became psychotic. I tried to blame the voices on booze but I couldn’t do that with the hallucinations. I “saw” my Dad sitting in our bedroom laughing at me. I called a mutual friend who was a physician and he got me into a private mental institution.
There bc I was not yet 21 and according to that state’s laws “emancipated,” the institution called my parents. My Dad took the call and drove 3 hrs. to where I was locked up.
He had a meeting w/ my shrink and staff. He told them everything. Up until that moment, I had blocked out the rape which occurred my senior year but at 17. They were so impressed he came forward bc they had never seen THAT before, so they decided to release me into his care a few weeks later (!). My mom (it turned out) had no idea what had just happened. I would tell her decades later.
Flash forward 8 years. I married someone else and my drinking was spinning out of control. After a nasty drunk, my husband commented I ” didn’t drink like other people.” I drank like I was “trying to drown some part of myself.” So I finally told him EVERYTHING. I had sugar-coated my story when I told him about my dad bc I had this fantasy we could live a normal life and still see my family. They lived nearby. We even went to church with them.
The next day he said we weren’t playing any games anymore: we were pulling away and I would get help. I began therapy with a real sex abuse therapist. I did that five days/week for months. Then 3X, then once but it was years.
There is so much more.
Anyway, I revisited this issue over and over. I had trouble getting sober bc many in AA felt I could not do therapy if I didn’t get sober first. I needed both. I needed psych meds which is not discussed much in AA and often discouraged by some. I am now 7 years sober but it wasn’t totally due to 12-Step programs nor multiple Txs, one even four months long. But that’s a story for another day.
I have sought out therapy for long periods since. Most recently a year ago. But unless the therapist has real exp. in trauma, one can only go so far. They will tell you they do and given the number of abused people out there, they are not really lying. But until now, finding someone who has actually been abused herself, and admits it is rare. I’m so grateful to Elisabeth for being courageous enuf to share her story and begin again.
Thank you AJ. I appreciate you and all the work you have done to cope with the effects of your horrific childhood. I am so glad to know you.
This is such a great, honest, and open post. It resonates with me, and I agree completely that our motivation to heal is switched on repeatedly, due to the various degrees and traumas that come up as we are healing.
Thank you Heather! It really does seem to shift organically depending on everything else that is happening in our lives.
I love reading your supportive blogs, and I love your comment here about the recovery work facilitating something amazing, because I now understand why I don’t want my journey of recovery to come to an end. I don’t want the recovery work to stop, and it scares me to think of it coming to an end (despite a ‘friend’ claiming I should have done enough by now!) So I’m relieved to know that the work can go on for a lifetime, because already I am seeing it comes in stages, with shifts marking those special discoveries, and I feel there are still so many more amazing things to catch up on.
Thank you Olive. I really believe we set that recovery train in motion and we are always improving after that. We are stagnant or we are growing. I much prefer growing too.
My motivation was seeing how my trauma was impacting my marriage and my children. I wanted to take back the control from my abuser and get to the point where I was no longer paralysed by fear and in control of my responses on a more regular basis. I still am, determined to become a better person. And I’m managing. Thank you so much for sharing your story Elizabeth. You are very brave in being vulnerable and sharing your challenges with us. It has given me comfort and inspiration to carry on my battle. I’m gradually winning. ❤
Thank you Lisa for your courage to fight your battle and for your kind words. Love to you.