Unbinding the Tethers of Shame
*Warning potentially triggering content surrounding sexual abuse
When I was a child, the stars saved my life. I did not die because they spoke to me..each night I gave them memories to hold for me- I gave them emotions too large and too sharp for me to feel. In return the stars gave me understanding. They said to me, “This is not how it’s supposed to be. This is not your fault. You will survive. We love you. You are good.” - Derrick Jensen
I am standing at the water’s edge. I am small. The heat scorches my face, but it is a welcome pain. My skin prickles with sand and the spray of salt water. My feet are sinking into the wet sand with each push and pull of the shore. I can smell the pungent smell of the sea. Even then I felt such a part of her vastness. The ocean was there for me. She was my mother in a way, holding what I couldn't in my small body. I look closely at the beach while I walk, careful not to step on any man-o-war that could sting my little feet. I go into the shallow waves, but tentatively. I have learned how far to go. If you stay too close to the edge you get pulled under, if you go too far out, you get swept away. You must find the spot in the middle, in the in between. I had been swept off my feet by the undertow before, gasping for breath, wondering which way was up, where to put my feet to stand. Looking back, it wasn’t very deep, but I was very small. Was anyone paying attention, I wonder. I don’t remember anyone coming to my rescue or making sure I didn’t wander out too far. I suppose not much different from the rest of my life.
I was sexually abused as a young child by my father until I was 13 years old. I have clawed my way back. It has taken many years of counselling, somatic transformational practices, inner work, meditation, qigong and healing arts - a commitment to myself that has become a way of life, and a life I am full of love and gratitude for.
It has been hard, and it has been a journey. I have created safe, nurturing internal spaces to thrive in. I have developed resilience, respect for discomfort, and learned to see in the dark. After so many years of existing in cortisol driven survival mode, I have the tools now to come back into my body when I’m triggered, to live an embodied life, and to be able to sit with fear, discomfort, pain and chaos differently; to be in a relationship with those states and experiences in a way that does not own or imprison me, rather allows me to continue to embody and learn. This is what I wish for all creatures inhabiting this planet. I am passionate about sharing both my story and my tools. We each have our own tao, our own path. This has been mine.
I want to talk about sexual abuse. I want to name some of the common threads and themes that people grapple with who have been abused, raped or assaulted as children or teenagers. In transparency, what I share here may also apply to many people who experienced sexual abuse, assault or rape as adults, but I am particularly tuned into childhood sexual trauma, and its ripple effects moving into adulthood. I have so many stories to share.
Not surprisingly, a huge part of my work with Acupuncture patients is around easing and untangling traumatic knots that have embedded in the nervous system and body, manifesting in many variants of chronic disease and psycho-emotional distress. I hold an infinity of gratitude to the trust I am given, and the space and work we hold together. My training in Elemental Acupuncture, Alchemical Healing, Qigong, Taoist and Esoteric Buddhist Meditation, and Inner Alchemy have given me the tools and practices I live by and with. They are my allies, they are my song, and I hold deep reverence, respect and devotion for them.
So many of my patients and friends have been sexually abused. So many people have been sexually abused. So. Many. People. So many children. The statistics are staggering. This happens to all genders and identities. The close family, relations and friends of the victims are often victims themselves. Even if they are not being sexually abused themselves, this does not mean they aren’t affected by it. Witnessing abuse is also traumatic. Our nervous systems speak, our bodies speak. Even when we are silent, the distortion this kind of assault on the body creates, ripples out and creates a cyclone of effect. Like a child who witnesses a parent being physically abused by their partner. This is deeply traumatizing in the same way a sibling may witness or sense the sexual abuse of their sibling.
The entity of shame is one of the biggest common threads I have witnessed in countless people who have experienced childhood sexual trauma. I call it an entity because it is sticky, heavy and hangs over us like a wet, heavy, unwanted second skin, affecting all of our relationships and interactions with life. It can be subtle and insidious, affecting us in ways we aren’t aware of. It often gets played out in people pleasing, being a “good” person, shape-shifting to try to please or appease whoever we are with, an intolerance of conflict or disagreement (even healthy ones), poor body image, disordered eating, and a deep sense of unworthiness. Even as an adult I have to fight so hard to stay aware of when I am falling back into my habitual survival methods, trying to make everyone else happy at the expense of myself. Running myself ragged, giving my body to whoever and whatever wants or needs it.
In my healthy adult Self, I view my body as sacred, and my sexuality as divine. Sharing in sacred communion with another being by sharing my body and soul with them is an act of revelatory beauty. I have learned to bask in the primordial playfulness and joy of sensual pleasure, including tasting delicious food, listening to the sounds of the trees, smelling my child’s hair, feeling the smoothness of dough with my fingers. Everything is an opportunity for sensual celebration and awareness. For me, this has become a practice in itself, and led me back into my body in ways that feel delightful and safe.
This takes time. It took me many, many years. For a long time I couldn’t handle certain smells because they triggered memories or feeling states in my body that would take me right back to being frozen in my bed, squeezing my legs together as hard as I could. The smell of peanut butter would immediately send me into an out of body, frazzled disconnected panic. My father ate peanut butter and bananas a lot, often lingering on his breath when he abused me. Bananas are another one. I knew I had alchemized a lot when I was able to keep bananas in the house again.
The sticky shame comes from, in part, a deep place of blaming yourself for what happened to you. If only I hadn’t looked so cute. I was too pretty and flirtatious. If I had been better behaved, if I had stood up for myself, if I had said no, if I hadn’t talked back, If I had done more chores, If I was good enough, if I had told someone, if I hadn’t told someone… this wouldn’t have happened to me. That is absolutely incorrect. You were a child. The person to blame is the twisted, pathological monster who did this to you. Perhaps your abuser even told you it was your fault.
Listen to me closely. This was not your fault. Read that again. You in no way deserved what happened to you.
One of the most powerful ways we can begin to untether the bindings of shame that we were infected with by our perpetrators is to learn to sit next to it. Begin by holding the concept that however you feel is okay. There is a somatic resonance to every mental-emotional state we experience. You can start with a simple exercise. First, create a safe container. Go into a room and close the door if possible. light a candle or an incense stick to mark the beginning of your session. Find a comfortable place to sit. Then simply begin by closing your eyes, going into the inner landscape of your body, and shifting your awareness there. As if you were gently holding a lantern to see what’s there. You don’t need to change or fix anything. You simply observe and let it be okay that it’s there. Notice sensations, see if there is an area of your body calling out for attention. It may be tight or achy or feel odd in some way. Let this area know that you care deeply about it. Sit next to it as if it were a friend. Let it know you are listening. See if it has anything to tell you. That’s it. So simple, yet the results over time are profound. In closing, place your hands on your body, giving gratitude for its wisdom. Then put a lid on your inner work session. Blow out the candle. Turn off the light. Open the window and let everything fly free.
If you have been sexually abused, it is imperative to learn how to listen to and respect your body. To give your body what was violently stripped from it. It is a practice and a process to learn to listen, to learn to be in relationship with your body. It takes time to get to know your body- to witness, be with, accept and learn how to hear what it is asking for. At first, it can feel really unsafe to be in your body, even to tune into it. this is normal and okay. Be radically gentle with yourself. Offering yourself grace throughout this process is necessary and key. This is messy, really messy. Let it be okay that it’s an uncomfortable mess.
We will hold this here for now. There is so much more to say. It is my commitment to continue writing and sharing about this. I hope my stories help you or someone you love, even in some small way. Please share with anyone who you feel may need it.
In love, Priya (Karla)
