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The following was written by a good friend of mine. I am cross-posting her articles here to ensure that they will always be on the internet and that her words will always have a way of reaching her intended audience. She has struggled immensely in her own life with family who failed to support her – who abused her instead of offering the love and care she provided them. Her alchemies run deep, and she has a perspective like no one else – a perspective I have decided to share with my audience. These articles date years back and through them you will see a firsthand snapshot of a remarkable woman’s growth.

-Eric

I had always known that “it happened to me.” Of course I did. It was just distant from my everyday awareness.

I could pretend it happened to someone else. It happened to “her,” or to some part I could separate from “me.”

It had to be that way, for quite a while. It was just far too much to admit the intimate truth. The recollections were already devastating enough.

But now, that distance is closing. And for some time, it was quite intense, as you might imagine. I mean nobody wants to look at their trauma, you know? The brain doesn’t want that, either.

But my soul needs me to see actuality. Especially when it comes to me and my selves. (Yup.)

And now, it’s not so bad. In fact, it can be rather beautiful. Not painless, mind you. But illuminating and freeing, to say the least.

Let’s go a bit deeper.

Vicious Cycles, And The Long Road To Accepting Trauma

First off, I’m still livid about how vile people can be. What happened to me is in no way some gift. Make no mistake about it. (Although I have found elements of appreciation.)

Gracefully, I’m not angry at myself. I’m not upset with any of my selves. Especially with my mind. Not anymore.

The truth is I’m still disturbed by the absolute depravity I grew up in.

With that said, I’m thankful I can finally understand. I can see why my brain lashed out at that moment. I can feel what “he” feels. (My ego sides are mostly masculine, for some reason. We don’t question it anymore.)

Yea, being hit with traumatic self-realization hurts. But those moments give me an opportunity to love those aspects in me.

It was a long, laborious road to get to this point. I don’t want to paint the picture that I just jumped to this juncture, because I didn’t.

First, I had to accept that those things did, indeed, happen. Which was intense, to say the least. Then I had to accept certain aspects of those disturbing events that I really would prefer to avoid. Then I had to realize that it happened to parts of me. Then the fact that my parts are, you know, parts of me.

And because of those non-linear cycles, I am finally able to understand more of me. How my brain operates, what sets it off, how my conditioning feels, and our insecurities as an individual person. (The whole multiple thing.)

That’s knowledge of thyself, baby. And there is nothing greater blessing than that. Even when it hurts. And yea, let’s not downplay it, pain is a huge part of if.

Focus On The Light (With Help From My Darkness)

As in the one who sees and interacts with all my inner activity, if I were to look at the trauma from a victim standpoint (solely) this little venture of ours would have gone very differently.

It would have been an inescapable Hell. Again.

I would have continued going in and out of psych wards, probably. And it would have likely gotten even uglier and more tragic than that, honestly. Let’s be real here.

So, it was imperative to be vigilant about my (and our shared) perspective.

Otherwise, we’d be basically harming ourself for the sake of punishment, quite frankly.

In other words, it was absolutely necessary to always look toward the light, so to speak.

My inner, authentic darkness helped me do that. It brought me buried secrets, harsh truths, and unrelenting savagery when necessary.

I’m just saying, understanding sheds light on what I need to see. At a pace that I can handle, although, sometimes it doesn’t feel that way.

More Gentle With My Abrasive Sides

I know I’ve hinted at this, but it’s worth saying outright. The biggest consequence to all this is my increased gentleness with ourself. With all parts of me.

Understanding kills fear. The “unknown” is just no longer there. Essentially, there’s no mystery.

You’ve examined it.

I can’t say I prefer the more fearful, survival, trauma-based programs. But if they do “take over,” I can examine them more.

So, in the end, it still works to my advantage due to the knowledge I gain from scrutinizing them with curiosity and acceptance (rather than demonizing them as something “terrible” and as an “illness.”)

When I view the sheer magnitude of what happened to me, I still feel some level of anger. But, more importantly, I am stunned into self-compassion. There simply comes a point where self-love is my only option.

Then I can see my strength. I survived all that shit. With a curious mind, and an open heart. (Admittedly with safeguards in place when necessary, for obvious reasons.)

Compassion Does Not Mandate Putting Up With Poor Treatment

When dealing with other people, some folks think that it’s “nice” to allow yourself to be mistreated.

You let people talk badly about you, just to “keep the peace.” You might allow yourself to become a doormat because “you’re just that kind.”

That’s not compassion. Or love. That’s insecurities pretending to be virtuous.

Comparable situations could arise within you.

But, you can’t walk away from yourself. Right?

The point here is that you don’t take shit from yourself, either. I’m not saying to just let every aspect in you do whatever they want without consequence. I mean, I am. But I’m also not.

Ugh. What I’m saying is you gain control by letting go of it.

The more undesired sides will do what they do. Your brain is going to be your brain, you know?

Yet, I’m not advocating for no accountability over yourself. Quite the opposite, actually. But first, you have to understand those aspects.

Eventually, with practice and growing comprehension, you’ll make progress. You probably won’t do that, though, by demanding absolute perfection. Make sense?

Allow the “mistakes” and old programs to play out, if need be. Then correct the course as soon as you can, to something more preferable. And regardless of what is happening, meet it with curiosity.

How My Parts Help Me Face The Pain (And Grow From It)

Some people say that my parts are evil demons. I call them my angels. (Well, to put it in a more mainstream way, anyhow.)

My soul parts (the core self) guided me. They directed me to our wounds. And they brought them to me.

Not so I can get triggered, or attacked, or hurt. No. (Again, it can feel that way.)

But so I could sit with it. See the agony, and the confusion, the betrayal and the programs as they run without interruption or preference.

It’s vital to see such things, especially when it’s not comfortable.

That’s how you grow. You begin to understand Life, and the human condition by understanding yourself. You’re the only lens you got, at the end of the day.

On another note, my parts are there for me when addressing my wounds (of mind, body, and soul) felt devastating, when I trembled in disbelief and shock and disgust. They held me, and reminded me I was far from being alone.

There’s nothing wrong with us. We just operate differently. And that is a blessing. (Now.)

Viewing My Ego Sides As Parts of Me, Too

For a long while, there was a war inside of me. (Sometimes there still is. Depends on the context, I suppose.) It was my soul parts against my brain.

My brain was the enemy.

That’s what so many spiritualists say. And the mental health system was very clear that my mind is “sick” and “hopeless.” And it felt that way, for me, too.

But, I’ve begun to realize that my mind is an aspect of me, as well. It’s not really separate from me. It holds a lot of responsibility for my life. So, I should probably understand it.

Which has been quite beneficial. And being able to hold compassion for it works better than trying to kill it, or medicate it, or punish it into submission.

Although, some of those aspects are incapable of receiving my love. In which case, I just “watch” them from afar.

Know your enemy kind of strategy, get me?

It’s also an opportunity to practice directing my attention to something more beneficial, when need be. Let’s be crystal clear here; that takes a lot of practice. It doesn’t just happen.

Compassion For My Victimization

Part or not, the whole point is that it all happened to me. It happened to this body, and it remembers. It happened to my mind, too. And no matter how hard it tries, the memories just won’t be forgotten.

That might sound like a prison. But it’s liberating, perhaps paradoxically.

Let me explain. When we thought of the trauma as happening “to someone else,” I could only give it so much. It wasn’t mine, after all, as far as my level of acceptance goes.

But allowing this realization has helped me understand so many things. I can finally stop villainizing my brain. It literally did nothing wrong. We were all just put in shitty situations.

That’s how brains work. It creates programs, if you will, based on the environment you’re in. Especially as a young child.

Now, when the old programs break through, I see them for what they are. Not for the “sickness” they’ve been labeled as. Or not as something “bad.” I can finally just see these loops and conditioning for exactly what it is.

And that comprehension allows me to feel compassion for all of me.

I’m not mad at myself anymore. Solely because I can understand myself so much better by closing the gap within myself.

Detachment, Dissociation, and Oneness In Myself

Yes, detachment is necessary so I can observe it. Otherwise, I’ll never be able to see how my mind works. I would still just be that “sick” person who is constantly demonized and punished. Especially in my own self-view.

And that isn’t helpful. In fact, it’s detrimental to be too close to the “ich.” That’s why I dissociated in the first place. To give me a chance somewhere, down the road.

And now that chance is here. We made it!

Even so, too much distance, like dissociation, means I fail to be in my own life. And, well, we know how that went. It wasn’t great. It actually kinda sucked.

I’d much rather learn myself than punish myself. At least that way, we can grow from it. The other methods weren’t all that effective for us, as it turns out.

I can no longer vilify my mind. It did nothing wrong. It was a good mind put in horrific circumstances.

Now I know that my mind (and thus my shared ego, if you will) needs my attention, too. Just like my glorious soul parts did. That’s how we came together, after all.

And so now, it’s time for my mind to get my love and understanding. My mind needs me. I can see that now.