A Pathway to Trauma Recovery, in Story Form

I put “A Pathway to Trauma Recovery” together during a period of time when I had more clients than I could fit in my schedule, and I worked for an employer that required we say yes to any eligible person looking for therapy services. I knew the people seeking services had a lot to offer each other, so I wanted to provide a structure that could offer guidance to people navigating recovery from very complex trauma responses. If you’ve read my work, you may already know that I believe humans are social animals and we heal in connection with each other.

The following is a story about a pathway to recovery. I invite you to settle into whatever state of comfort comes most easily to you right now. As you read this story, absorb only what feels helpful, and notice how easy it is to change or disregard anything that doesn’t fit for you. It’s just a story, and you get to decide what story fits for you.

You’ve struggled through the forest and see an opening ahead. It’s been a long journey, yet somehow when you come upon the clearing, you don’t feel tired at all… just peaceful, solid, at ease.

  Your face relaxes into a quiet smile as you notice the odd assortment of people sitting, waiting for you. You didn’t know they would be here, and yet somehow you did.

       It’s been such a long journey, and you know you were there every step of the way, yet for a moment, as your body relaxes and your thoughts float away, you forget what happened and know only that you’re here.

         You look at the familiar faces circled together in the clearing and ask, “How did we get here?”

       The group smiles knowingly and gesture to the empty spot where your body will be able to settle in.

        As you begin to move into the clearing, the person closest to you, strong and burly, reminds you warmly, “we realized the past still hurt, and we were suffering.”

      You remember the times that you thought you were okay, only to be reminded of the pain your body and soul still carried. You walk closer.

      The second person, an elder with a soft voice, continues, “we realized there was more we could do to heal our minds, bodies, and spirits.”

    You recall the hopelessness you used to feel when your body was tired, you thought you had tried everything, and life was still hard. And you remember the release when that hopelessness gave enough space for you to continue on your journey.

     The third person to speak looks so young, a tiny, little one, and demonstrates the fluidity of the words, “we started to move around and be nice to our bodies.”

      You notice again how comfortable you feel, how easy it is to breathe. You remember the first time you realized that your breath could guide your body forward. You recall with fondness all the times your body gently reminded you of this.

       The fourth person reaches out and lightly squeezes the little one’s hand. “We decided we needed to create meaning for ourselves, or there would be no point in trying anything.”

You’re in the middle of the circle now, moving toward the seat that calls to you. You pause, and feel the meaning that already exists for you in this group of people who’ve worked so hard and come so far. These people who see you and know you and want you here.

A fifth voice, crisp and clear, joyfully continues, “we started to realize the things that we were doing and telling ourselves that made life harder.”

   Oh yes, you remember the ways you punished yourself, and reflect with compassion on how little you knew then - how much wisdom was yet to come.

     You meet the soft eyes of the sixth person in the group, who gently adds, “we sought out those who had walked in our shoes and spent time with them, trying out the things that had been helpful for them, but only those things that felt right for us.”

    And you remember when you first realized that you’re not alone – you never were. You just hadn’t trusted yourself to know who was safe to lean on and what was right for you.

     The husky voice of the seventh person, who’s leaning back comfortably gazing at the stars, joins in with, “we figured out the beliefs that could help us feel hope, meaning, purpose, without taking away safety or the wisdom of experience.”

      As you move closer to the spot that was already waiting for you in this circle of people, your people, you’re struck by how different each one is. It’s the differences that make this group feel so complete. Their eyes, their bodies, their breath, their words continue, one at a time around the circle. Each voice brings its own wisdom, its own invitation…

       And they’re not just talking to you. They’re all seeing, hearing, being present with each other. You feel the synchronicity of 12 bodies breathing, breathing the same air that moves through the grass and trees, over and through the earth, up into the sky, through every living creature. And as they speak, you remember.

     The eighth person continues, “we told the people journeying alongside us what we were thinking and what we were doing, and we asked them to help us. We challenged ourselves and leaned on them for help.”

     The ninth says, “we committed to little changes to be nicer to our bodies, do meaningful things, connect more, and face scary things that weren’t too big or unmanageable.”

The tenth adds, “we embraced the parts of ourselves that carried anger, hurt, fear, shame, or any other pain. We thanked them and took care of them. We made amends to ourselves, and to other people that we hurt along the way.”

     You’ve settled into your seat in the circle as the eleventh person finishes, “and now that we’ve experienced peace, we continue to honor our bodies, engage in meaningful activities, manage our beliefs, connect, and face our fears…”

     “Yes,” you join the voices. It’s all come back to you now, and you know they need you as much as you need them, “because we recognize that we deserve joy, and we can move through pain to find it.”