I have been working on healing the traumatized part of myself that was triggered by momster’s letter. That part was too terrified at first to reveal anything specific that I could use to heal it, so I focused on loving and accepting that part back into my core. I have been listening to the same song over and over again: “Undo” by Rush of Fools, which is a contemporary Christian band:
Turn me around, pick me up
Undo what I’ve become
Bring me back to the place
Of forgiveness and grace
I need You, I need Your help
I can’t do this myself
You’re the only one
Who can undo what I’ve become
I have also been meditating on the following Bible verse:
No weapon forged against you will prevail. ~ Isaiah 54:17
The first information I recovered was flashes of women’s breasts, which I could not make heads or tails of. The second piece of information to reveal itself was that the threat was to my baby sister – I had to comply to save her. I have already put in a lot of work processing threats to my sister, so I did not think this was the piece of unprocessed trauma that I needed to focus on.
I now recovered the missing piece that I need to process. Thankfully, while this is technically “new information,” I already had the sickening awareness piece for years, so this wasn’t shocking information to process.
I had a flashback of being very little in a very big, dark room with sunlight coming through the second floor level of a small window. Once I took a step back, I recognized the place – it’s my aunt’s garage. This is my mother’s twin sister. That’s the only piece I needed to recover because I have already processed the types of abuse as well as threats to my sister’s life.
This is validated by a recurring nightmare I had early in therapy when I was processing the mother-daughter sexual abuse. My aunt would be sexually abusing me while my mother stood by watching with a blank stare on her face. At the time, I was only aware of the mother-daughter sexual abuse and believed she was my only abuser, so I interpreted this dream as a metaphor – that I was too frightened to face that my mother was my abuser, so I dreamed her staring vacantly as her sister harmed me. However, I now believe this recurring dream was a flashback rather than a metaphor.
This adds another piece to the puzzle of my life that fits, which I will go into tomorrow.
Photo credit: Microsoft
