My EMDR Experience

This poem is called "What Cancer Cannot Do", but I think it could apply to many things, including any form of abuse. I found it in the book "Chicken Soup for the Surviving Soul", I didn't know that there was such a book. I have about 4 of the other Chicken Soup books but this was a new one for me, and the only one that Walmart had and no price (wouldn't you know!) .

Cancer is so limited....
It cannot cripple love
It cannot shatter hope
It cannot corrode faith
It cannot destroy peace
It cannot kill friendship
It cannot suppress memories
It cannot silence courage
It cannot invade the soul
It cannot steal eternal life
It cannot conquer the spirit.

Source unknown

My EMDR session started with a simple meditation to put me in a relaxed state. It was also to put me in touch with the inner child, she after all is the one to have experienced all of this in the first place. I found it difficult to really relax at first because of the worry and fear of the "unknown". And I must admit to many sleepless nights before coming for this session, for just that reason, the fear. Both in the procedure itself, and what might come to light because of the procedure. Eventually, I was able to start relaxing, and to feel like I was letting the barriers down, so we began.

This was nothing like what I had expected. In many ways it was much simpler, and yet in some ways it was very hard to follow. The therapist was moving her hand back and forth, about 18-24" away from my face and I was just to follow her fingers with my eyes. My head was not moving, just my eyes, and I remember thinking at first with a chuckle..."Okay, this is not working!" And then, I just started to cry. It wasn't really loud. It wasn't very emotional. I just had this feeling of incredible sadness, and the tears just started coming. Betty (my therapist) brought me back out and asked me what I was thinking or feeling. I couldn't tell her, I didn't know... I was just so sad. She said that was fine, that there was no right or wrong to this whole thing. I should just let whatever was going to come up, come and not worry about it. Then she started the hand movement again. We did this in about 5 minute intervals (I think, they were about 5 minutes anyway), and this time she asked me to think about why I was so sad.

I couldn't tell her why I felt sad. Today, I think I would say I was sad for all the years I have kept this a secret and the way it has affected my life. But at this point we moved on to other things. I loose the continuity of this at times, I don't really remember what goes where. But I remember at one point feeling the presence of Denise (my name for my inner child). She is the one who holds the key. Whenever the questions got to hard, or too close to the truth, I found myself thinking of her. And that she's the one who doesn't trust yet, doesn't trust that it's okay to let the secret's out, all the way out. When the questions did get to difficult I found myself fading out, loosing focus. And the first time that I "lost" my focus, I was very frightened. I lost Betty's fingers and was seeing only her face, like it was all the way acrossed the room from me. All I remember is her voice telling me to "Come back now, Sharon...focus on here...don't leave!" It almost felt like my eyes were crossing (after my last session, Betty tells me that my eyes did cross), but I could still see her, just not her hand. Then, when I could hear her calling me, I would come back and I could see her hand again. She would then bring me back out of the "trance" (for lack of a better description for it). She would do this by slowing the movement of her hand down so that it was just barely going back and forth past my eyes, and then I would be "back". This happened several times in the course of the hour that we worked. Each time I would hear her voice calling me back again, and that is the only way I was able to remain present...it was most unsettling. I wish there was a better way to describe this whole process and what was going on, but words fail me and it only ends up sounding like just that much more hocus pocus, mumbo jumbo. I guess the only thing really to say is that however you describe it, it really does work if you're able to keep your mind open enough.

At this point, I can't remember which came first, the feeling of what had happened, or the knowledge that I had split or dissociated two different times in my life. I think it was the knowledge that I "split" when I first met Howard. That seems to have been the easiest memory to come up with. It seems that the only way Denise could let Sharon have a friendship/relationship with a boy was to split herself off and hide away even deeper. It was just this feeling, that first came to me as a sensation, not a picture or anything concrete. It was simply an overwhelming feeling, that this was Denise's way of dealing with Sharon meeting Howard and being attracted to him. It was her way of making it okay for Sharon. Maybe because for the first time Sharon herself felt safe with a boy. But whatever the reason for it, I do know that Denise left again, and hid away even farther than before. I think that's why I feel like I knew in high school what had happened, but I didn't as an adult. I do have the sensation or feeling that I knew what the details were when I was younger, and that the "split" when I met Howard was the point at which those memories faded or were put away and not thought about for a great deal of time.

After remembering, or feeling that sensation of splitting, I was able to remember the first time that I split. It was at the time of the actual abuse. I now remember, or "feel" that I was not the one it was happening too. I was only "watching" what was happening. I was observing, from where I'd been in bed when he came on board the boat. I now think that is why it was so hard for me to come up with any memories of my own. I simply wasn't the one it was happening to at the time, and Denise was only "seeing" it as it was unfolding. I think there was a third person who was the one to actually feel the abuse. I am not sure who she is or where she's hiding, but it really seems like there were three of us there that night. It's taken this long to put all the pieces together, and fit all the people together into one frame. There is now at least a frame for the "vision" I now have of what happened all those years ago.

And now, about the memory of what really happened that night... like I said before, I thought it would be like a video replaying in my head, and it wasn't. It is only just now beginning to gel into some form of a vision or feeling. It's all fuzzy and only sensations right now. Or like an inner knowledge, something I just know. Nothing concrete, only vague and illusionary. But even in it's illusion there is a substance and a reality. The reality is that it did happen, there was abuse. There was pain. There was penetration. There was terror and no voice to tell him to stop. There was a little girl who could only hide away what had happened. A little girl who didn't know what had been done, didn't know she should tell anyone. A little girl who was so terrified that she couldn't even stay in her body when it was happening. And when it was over she hid it away forever. Or at least she thought it was forever. But it's a secret that can never really go away. It's always there, festering and affecting every aspect of the little girl's life, all the way to the adult's life.

As this was all coming into focus, the EMDR was increasingly more difficult to be "present" for. I was more and more easily "lost" and out of focus. I remember now the feeling of relief when I would start to fade away. The pressure or stress was gone, only to return when Betty called me back. There were a few times I now remember feeling resentment that she was making me come back and face things ... it was so much easier to just slip away. It was increasingly more of a struggle to stay in the present, in my body, and not "drift" away into the vague, and possibly empty corner of my mind. I think that I did that in school a lot also. I remember getting comments on my report cards that my only problem in class was my "day dreaming". Today my daughters call it zoning out. Even now I can feel myself slipping out of focus, out of the present and into some fuzzy place where I don't have to think. It seems to happen most when I am driving, especially at night. I haven't figured that one out yet. But in time I will. At this point I can only think it's maybe because the abuse happened at night, and that nighttime maybe the trigger. It certainly seems like night is a problem for me, sleeping especially. Maybe it's that night means sleep, and sleep means that my conscious mind is not in control. At night it's the subconscious mind that is in the driver's seat. And I would suppose that is where the conflict lies...my conscious mind being unable to let go of the control. Whatever the case, I think it's the next thing to "work" on.

One of the last areas (or maybe it was the first) that I remember we worked in, was the goal or my hope for the outcome of this session. At first I thought it was only to find out the truth of what had really happened. But gradually I think I began to see a much broader and more useful goal/wish for myself. First is the desire to finally find my voice! To be able to say what I want, what I don't want, about things that are close to my heart, or are difficult! The very idea that I could give voice to such things eventually, inspires great hope and courage to continue this battle. The second and perhaps more of a "dream" goal is the ability to ride again. I very rarely allow myself to even think about that and all it means. I used to blame the accident on my not riding. And although that is certainly a large portion of the problem, I think the simpler root is my lack of confidence in myself that I used to have years ago. My own image of who I am is lost to me. It seems to be buried under all the weight and past ill health that accompanies people who are out of shape and no longer active. The possibility that breaking through the past will unlock the future is almost to much to picture and hold on to right now. But oh, how I want to!(There perhaps is the first evidence of that missing voice.)

That is pretty much what I remember about my first EMDR experience. The only other thing to add possibly, is the toll it takes on a person physically. I came out of the hour and a half session and told my mom, "Take me home." I felt like I could barely stumble to the car, and I went home and slept for over 2 hours. The next few days I experienced many hours of further processing. There were periods of unexplainable sadness and crying. Times of near panic for little reason. During all this there was really no true thought or feeling that I was dwelling on, just the emotions that seemed to be out of control. But as the week progressed, I was able to identify those times and just let the feelings and emotions come and go. There seemed to be a certain ebb and flow to the whole process that gradually eased. And now, maybe I am ready to truly face and let go of the past!! The time is right and the road is marked, I just wish it were a bit smoother. But then as someone just told me, nothing truly worthwhile is free and the work is worth the effort, so I persist and will continue to forge ahead. There is a new me out there somewhere just waiting to be found and turned loose!

And one last note ... would I do this again? Of course, without a doubt! I can honestly say that it may not be for everyone. And you really need to be at the right place within yourself, and with the right therapist. But if you have all those things going for you and in place, then this is a truly amazing experience and one I would recommend to just about anyone. It's not without a great deal of pain, and discomfort ... but the results for me are phenomenal!

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Email: richmonds@mindsync.com