WOMB HEALING: My Personal Journey of Healing Sexual Trauma
This is not a post I ever intended on writing. Even now, as I type this, I am wondering what in the fuck I am thinking.
And those are the thoughts of my ego.
My womb knows that I am writing this because I’ve held the words inside for too long, resulting in deep-seated shame and an unhealthy perception of sex that impacts me still today.
And My soul knows that the spiritual journey I am on requires this trauma to be seen, heard, loved and let go of – for good if I want to move forward as my authentic self.
Every ounce of my being knows that I was called to write this because it is a message that someone needs to read.
Maybe that someone is you
During my plant medicine journey this past May, a night that can only be described as ”womb healing” occurred.
As I laid in the maloka (sacred healing space) and the rain and wind raged outside, the cramps in my womb were so intense it was hard to lay still. In my mind I watched my sexual experiences play like a movie; recalling each partner I have had.
I watched with the mind of a woman – not from the mind of the young girl I was seeing.
Tears fell for my younger self as she so willingly gave such precious parts of herself away to all the wrong people, for all the wrong reasons. I watched as these men took advantage of my desperate desire to be loved, and the lack of self-respect to go about it the right way.
After what felt like minutes and hours all at once, the painful cramps stopped. It felt as though they were sucked out of my belly with a vacuum, and sent into the wind – lost in the jungle forever.
In that moment I found forgiveness and understanding for myself, and the men who came to mind during that healing process.
That night also included an encounter that helped me heal the trauma caused by many years of infertility that left me feeling broken, confused and lost. I worked through the years of scheduling sex, the roller-coaster that every month brought and the miscarriage I suffered during that time.
In that moment I accepted that experience too, for what it was – and I embraced it.
I was naive enough to think that was it; womb healed. And yet it didn’t take me long after coming home to realize that was not the case.
In reality, Mama Aya was only getting started. She was helping me make space. Stirring the pot and removing the stuff, so that I could bring hidden wounds to the surface. Wounds I had mostly forgotten about – or downplayed as a coping mechanism.
I have known for some time that this was an area that I would need to eventually address.
Keeping it real; I was not ready and thought I could keep certain emotional centers “numb” until I was. Like a silly human, I thought I could ignore the memories, thoughts and feelings that were bubbling under the surface.
I should know better; I do know better. How many times have I stressed the importance of letting go to a friend or client?
As I read all of the #metoo and #whyididntreport stories shared on Facebook over the last few months, memories started emerging. Some I recalled easily, and some had been buried so deep in my subconscious that they were a shock to recall.
I didn’t share on Facebook, because it never felt right.
And now I am being called to admit that I have shit that needs out too.
So here it is – my #whyididntreport story.
Because I was only 5 or 6 when an older girl taught me about orgasms – and I had no clue that it was not appropriate at that age. It felt good, but yet it was bad?
Because I thought it was normal for kids to play that way, so I didn’t protest. Yet I knew enough that it was wrong and to keep it a secret.
This behavior, and how I was made to feel about it, set me up with an unhealthy perception towards sex and left me thinking that it was the only way to find love.
And so began a path full of looking for love and acceptance in all the wrong places.
Because I had a crush on him and initiated the phone call, in which he convinced me to meet him. I willingly kissed him. One thing led to another and he physically forced himself into my mouth.
He was 21 and I was 12.
Because it was the first time I had ever been drunk, and I completely blacked out. The “friends” I was with didn’t want to get into trouble by my parents, so they sent me home with a man I barely knew. When I woke up I was in his shower and had no idea how to resist. At the time I didn’t want to resist. I wanted to be part of the “cool” group of girls who were already sexually active.
He was 27 and I was 14.
Because he called me a tease when I wanted him to stop. I didn’t like the way that felt, so I let him do as he pleased.
He was 19 and I was 14.
And after that – I just wanted to be loved, and I went about it with the mind of a sexually traumatized little girl.
Not once have I had that relationship that developed “naturally”. Not once was I truly loved BEFORE sharing my sacred body space. And not once did it end with the results I was hoping for.
These unresolved emotions that I have been carrying for so long have manifested in many ways over the years; they shaped much of who I became. Perhaps someday I will share more about that. For now, I wonder if I will ever truly release all of this.
Healing these traumas is not as easy writing a blog. But I do feel it is a step in the right direction.
I am grateful for all the skills that I have acquired over the last few years. Skills that equip me to mentally and emotionally work through these newly surfaced memories. Insights that empower me to grow from the experiences and the process of the continued healing in my womb.
And mostly I am grateful for the courage that allows me to be open and vulnerable, in the hopes that somewhere out there is a woman who needs to know she is not alone.
#METOO my sisters, #ididntreport either.
