From Pain to Empowerment
(You can read part 1 of this story here.)
Today marks a significant moment in my journey of healing and self-assertion. On this day, I felt strong in my voice. I went from cognitively understanding that what happened was not my fault, to deeply feeling that it wasn't my fault. I understood my right to be angry because something has been off. It almost feels like I build the last 16 years up to this point: where I really got my own back and my self-worth felt solid enough. I've reached a point where I can discuss my past with a newfound strength, not seeking validation but sharing my truth.
When I initiated a conversation with my family about past events, their responses were not unexpected. Like, maybe I remembered wrong, or how me at 11 was also seeking attention, and thus, somehow responsible. Or — that I should understand their defensiveness because it is hard to admit a mistake. Such reactions are common; they stem from a place of discomfort with acknowledging painful truths. Something powerful happened for me when I could recognize mistakes and still feel love and compassion, and it took time for me to get there.
The aftermath of my last post was met with a mix of reactions, including an upset call and a period of silence. This response felt like an attempt to silence me, which initially fueled my anger. My family celebrates Taylor Swift going to court for being touched unwantedly and choosing to keep on speaking up, even when people didn't believe her - and I get to hear that my story is nothing like that. At the same time, I have a lot of understanding that my family's reaction was not just about me; it's about their own struggles with guilt, denial, or fear.
This realization has been pivotal. It's not about making them understand or agree, about explanations or excuses; it's about me owning my narrative. As a trauma-informed coach, I understand the complexity of family dynamics and I easily understand how everything happened like it did. As children, we often idealize our caregivers, which can prevent us from confronting painful realities. But as a grown-up, we can love our family members while acknowledging their imperfections. I don't need them to be perfect. My adult love for my family is more real when they can be just human.
Getting an acknowledgment from one family member meant a lot. It helps in healing. But what I got most out of that day, where I opened the talk, is something I gave myself. The feeling of really being there for myself, not freezing when things are thrown back at me. Never before have I expressed my anger in such a powerful yet clear and grounded way. I believe my truth enough not to wobble, doubt, freeze, or get scared. I spoke.
It feels like my body is more mine again. Everything feels fresher. New and crisp. To my own surprise, the words come up: I feel like a new woman.
That was a really big day for me.
... Lore! Queen Lore! Oh! :O <3 Expressing... I feel such a great bit of tenderness towards you right now, and an anger that this happened to you, because of course it wasnt right, and an admiration and also happiness and a small rock-n-roll "Yes!" that your queenly worthiness and braveness even stretches into expressing this. ... I know that it was not easy to write, but totally necessary. I feel the same nowadays - some elephants in some rooms simply needs to be called out, to heal our generational traumas and be freer, damned be the consequenses. Real relationship strength is built not by keeping silent about bad things that happened until people die, but to air them out,…
That was very brave. “I don't need them to be perfect.” is a beautiful and very powerful statement that we might hope is an invitation rather than a trigger. Thank you for sharing. Draw power from your roots and use them to grow wings 🙏. Hans