#MeToo - You Can Heal
Updated: Dec 5, 2020
I recently received a “friend” request on Facebook from a boy I knew in high school. I physically cringed with a healthy dose of trepidation as to why he would send me a request. After all these years, after what he did to me – did he remember? – did he care? – is he sorry?
In my grade there were a half dozen boys that formed a clique. They were extremely insecure, mean, and highly narcissistic. Their modus operandi was to build up their esteem via cruelty, manipulation and intimidation. I kept a wide berth from them to avoid their demeaning insults, pokes, and sexual innuendos. This “friend” was one of them. When I looked at his recent Facebook page, there was a picture of this same group (men now). Time stood still. Nothing had changed.
I refer to “friend” as FF from here.
It was grade 11, 1975. I went to a friends’ party down the block. I was excited about the evening, eager to appear stylish, and to chat and have a beer or two with both girls and boys. What unfolded left me reeling with shame, horror, and anger. I crawled further into my painfully shy persona and stayed there for years.
I knew everyone at the party. FF was there. As I searched out the bathroom, FF put his arm around me and said he wanted to show me something. He flung open a bedroom door and shoved me in. There was another boy (PF) waiting in the bedroom. PF grabbed me by the arm and threw me on the bed. While I struggled and fought and begged FF to help me, he smiled, closed the door, and left, watching me cry and reach out to him.
I begged PF to let me go. He laughed. He was drunk and told me to shut up while fumbling under my clothes. I dissociated from the situation and just went limp. I was out of my body watching it all in slow motion. This can’t be happening - but it was.
Something astounding happened next! I had an adrenalin rush so powerful that I braced my arms under his shoulders and threw him 3ft. in the air. He was as shocked as I was. He was about 6ft. 4in. tall and outweighed me by 100lbs. I escaped his grip. I left the party, went home, and cried for hours. The next Monday at school FF ignored me, PF winked, and the rest of the gang snickered amongst themselves. Ironically, a few weeks later, another boy was teasing me and PF came to my rescue and started a fight with that perpetrator. What the hell!
PF is dead now. I heard he died years ago on the train tracks – drunk. FF lives on.
My hard won lesson in this recollection is to acknowledge my remarkable spiritual growth, development of my intuitive skills, and my profound amelioration to wholeness. We must work to heal all of our wounded bits, nurture and respect our boundaries, and stay strong in our hearts to never lose site of what a beautiful experience life can be when we heal the pain; an inevitable part of being human.
Sexual abuse can have lingering and soul crushing consequences for your mental, spiritual, emotional and physical body. If not healed, the metaphorical scars, can, for some, last a lifetime. When we carry the festering wound in our psyche, it wreaks havoc on our physical bodies and can show up as depression, chronic skin conditions, numerous addictions, and even heart dis-ease from the embedded emotional pain.
To move forward, it is essential to identify your core wounds, recognize how they have affected EVERY area of your life, and release the attachment to these memories that caused your body to be out of alignment. Intuition is truth. You can trust it.
I work as a Medical Intuitive, Laughter Yoga Facilitator, Meditation (MBSR) Facilitator and Reiki Practitioner. If you wish to thrive, and reach spiritual, emotional, mental and physical wholeness, I encourage you to explore what hurts your heart, and learn how to tap in and heal so you can love yourself freely with abandon. I support you. We are one.
PS – I declined FF's “friend” request. I respect my boundaries. He's never apologized. He's not sorry. I am free.
© Susan Lee Woodward - 2018 - This article in its entirety is protected by Canadian and International copyright laws. Reproduction of this written content without written permission of the author is prohibited.