My colleague got me thinking about isolation in the healing process. I read in another article how isolation does not heal emotional dysregulation, but increases it.

Healing from abuse and trauma is very much a movement. For me, I have numbed myself so completely and learned how to not feel that the awakening was painful. I’d spent my whole life trying to avoid seeing or knowing, yet could not control the fact that the pain still seeped out. The awakening  created great, disruptive waves as I wrestled with waking up and owning up.

The spiral down is necessary. I believe along the way of healing we hit several bottoms, as we realize what we do not know, as we face the hard reality of a situation, as we search and search for our own truth.

Anger and intense grief, self-righteousness, education, mobilization, giving up, busyness…these are all feelings and activities my parts have carried on the spiral down. The spiral down involves stripping away what you knew before, and if you are still dealing with a fucktard and in the court system with them, then you strip away some of your humanity too. You have to in order to survive and take away the oppressor’s power. You let go of some of your basic human rights.

This in and of itself is isolating. In my situation, I’m not being hit, I’ve got someone asking me to smile at him in front of my children, and he behaves in court like his nose is clean and he is flawless compared to sick, pathetic, rebellious me. Father knows best, and he is the most benevolent, loving father there is, who just wants to be with his children.

It makes me sick to my stomach, for he is just a minor Trump and cannot let go of his need for control. He is financially and contemptuously violent, violent in his absence of regard for my humanity, violent in words and attitude, offensive in his playing the victim while attacking me, coddled completely by his mommy. His abuse is so subtle it places me squarely in some ass-crack of society, isolated and snugly tucked away where no one would believe me.

It took me some time to realize I am in a chronic bullying situation. I worry I become a burden to my community. I am embarrassed that I chose so wrongly.

At the bottom of the spiral, where one is completely stripped of one’s humanity, where all your well-worn parts that have so diligently protected you are awake and active, where you find your Self in the context of nothing, where you are completely alone and isolated…there is where you find the Divine. There is where you are stripped down, bared, nothing. Then you lean, and find God, or the Goddess.

I cried when reading an article about the “still, small voice”. The author called the voice “her”. I had never thought of the “still, small voice” as a woman’s, much less my own, but in being stripped away, I realized that voice is valid too, and all those messages about being an unwanted girl came flooding back. Of course my still, small voice is a SHE and has every right to be. God is found in all things feminine, too.

I could not find that voice without setting myself apart. I get lost in the noise of being forced from situations that have no promise of health anyway.

The spiral out begins. That’s where I am, although I touch the bottom more frequently than I would like sometimes, just by virtue of my situation I am learning how to spiral upward. I have to. Because in the spiral upward, I find spirit: grace, joy, gratitude, and the practice of making something incredibly beautiful of this sordid mess. I find the health of transformation, with God by my side. I reject any stories of me as demon or enemy, and become a warrior for truth. I shake off the ugliness of fucktards, I clothe myself in beauty, I become Spirit.

This is the healing. The plans of the divine are so much more than we imagine. Isolation is not just about being separated from the other. I have had so many others on my spiral path who have reached out their hands to lift me up, so I am never far from a generous kindred or a shoulder to cry on.  It is about being separated from God, and from her still, small voice.

I spiral out, singing loudly, proclaiming Her arrival.





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