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The Dawn of Survival

The dawn of survival for those of us who have been abused – whether physically, sexually, psychologically, and/or emotionally – is that empty time of exhaustion and impoverishment of mind, body, and spirit that comes after we have fled from those who have beaten, tortured, raped, violated, scorned, humiliated, or threatened us. We have been flung about the deck of the lifeboat, clinging desperately to the wreckage of our lives, bobbing in the sea of confusion and doubt, feeling defenseless and alone, wondering if rescue will ever come. We may drift aimlessly for weeks or months, without compass or direction to guide us, often questioning the wisdom of our decision to leave what little security we may have known, despite the accompanying terror and pain that ultimately became too much to bear.

Finally, however, there comes a time when we see an island of calm in the midst of the endless, murky depths that have surrounded us for countless days; a welcoming shore upon which we throw ourselves, completely drained of energy or purpose, but thankful to be alive and free. This is the time when we drag our wounded selves to a place of safety where we can find nourishment and care for our broken bodies, minds, and spirits. We seek respite from voices within echoing old messages that told us, over and over again, we were stupid, incompetent, and worthless.

We risked our lives, mortgaged our futures, and borrowed heavily on courage we didn't even know we had to escape the oppression and abuse. There is self-satisfaction in knowing we made it out alive, but sometimes that is all we have. And satisfaction doesn't put a roof over our heads, or buy groceries, or keep us warm when it's cold outside. There are some of us who have been so isolated and demoralized by our abusers that we have no skills, no sense of our ability to earn a living, no knowledge of what we need to do to stay alive. Others of us are able to locate resources to help us find work and a place to live. But we all – all of us who survive the abuse and escape – are left with shipwrecked emotions and self-esteem.

So where do we go to salvage what is left of us, to reclaim our Selves, to put our lives back together, to find meaning and hope? What is there for us beyond the lifeboat? Many of us simply join the ranks of the walking wounded, filling our time with activities that help us forget the past, getting us through the days and nights that are sometimes lonely, but often – so often – wishing there was something more. Most of us are neither sick nor mentally ill, but we carry the deep emotional scars of our battering in ways that affect our ability to completely and fully embrace life with joy and happiness.

Marshall Rosenberg observes, in his book about Nonviolent Communication, that "feelings are the messengers of our needs." For women whose lives have been filled with violence and whose needs have been ignored and invalidated, this concept is almost impossible to grasp, but is of vast importance in gaining empowerment. As we learn to break old patterns and form new ones, a different way of communicating can help to create a new reality for us.

Finally, Starhawk writes...

"We are all longing to go home to some place we have never been – a place, half-remembered, and half-envisioned – that we can only catch glimpses of from time to time. Somewhere, a circle of hands will open to receive us, eyes will light up as we enter, voices will celebrate with us when we come into our own power – arms will hold us when we falter. A circle of healing. A circle of friends. Someplace where we can be free."

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If this has been your journey, as it has been mine, I hope you will find here something that will comfort you, a sense of being known, and, most of all, the vision of a future that you can and deserve to have for yourself. A place where you can be free…

There is much about my own odyssey into the unknown… all the pain, the anger, the grieving and the place I have come to where I now reach out to help others find their own Path to freedom and new life.

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