Healing’s Messy Middle: Triggers and Corrective Experiences

I think I believed that once I left my spiritually abusive situations, talked through them, took a break, and re-entered a solid church, my healing process would be over and life would be smooth sailing. Uh, well, no. That’s not how that went. Not even a little.

The thing is, having ridden the unexpected waves for a while now, I can see the value in what I’ve learned along the way. Though I certainly wouldn’t have chosen any of it had I known ahead of time what was coming.

It was actually more than a year into my healing journey that I experienced a trauma trigger for the first time. And 2 years later when my strongest triggered response thus far occurred. Before that, I had heard the word “triggered,” but mostly in the pop cultural context where it meant disagreeing or being upset by something. Then one day a message from a spiritually abusive supervisor I hadn’t had contact with in a decade arrived in my inbox. Curious about why they’d be writing to me now, I opened and read it. Though the message was friendly, my brain and body physically reacted in unexpected ways. My vision darkened, my ears started ringing, my heart beat faster, my chest felt tight and my brain just shut off altogether. Until that moment I hadn’t realized the depth of the impact that spiritually abusive situation had had on me–that it was still apparently having on me. I knew it had been bad at the time and later had identified it as abusive and damaging. But it was so long ago and wasn’t impacting my current daily life… except apparently it was. Turns out our bodies can tell us things our minds aren’t yet fully aware of.

That was certainly not the last time my brain and body tried to keep me safe by shouting warnings that had far more to do with past experiences than present circumstances. Several of these instances occurred as I was working through re-entry into a new church a couple of years after leaving an abusive one. Most were small, more like a gut check that’s uncomfortable but passes quickly. Others were more significant, longer lasting, and required time, processing, and naps to feel ok again. The majority were solely internal. No one around me knew they were happening unless I chose to say something. The most intense occurred during a conversation with another person who had a similar personality and leadership style to more than one abusive leader in my past. My nervous system went into full blown panic mode to the point that I didn’t feel in control of my mind, my words, or myself. As a generally reserved and self-controlled person, that was extremely unnerving. I felt crazy.

I left the conversations as quickly as I could, then cried for the rest of the day… and then off and on for another week as I tried to process through what had happened and why. My thoughts and emotions swirled at hurricane speed. I considered leaving the church and cutting off contact with everyone I had so recently started building relationships with. Running away certainly sounded easier than going back to that person and talking through it. Especially since I had tried that with abusive leaders in the past and it had been awful and made things worse. But apart from some minor missteps, THIS person had given no indication of being an abusive leader, or even a bad one. Quite the opposite actually. Even in the missteps there had been humility and grace. Though our conversation needed debriefing, I knew it was my history that made it feel impossible, not the person.

As painful as that bigger, more external trigger was to experience and process, it was the catalyst for a new stage of healing. It made me realize that the years of reading, listening, journaling, learning, understanding, and processing I had done wasn’t all that needed doing. I had a good start on the intellectual side of healing but there was still work of another kind that I hadn’t begun. Deep heart work that required the help of other people and the telling of my story, both of which felt very risky, especially during a time when I was already feeling so fearful and vulnerable. But it was those emotions that pushed me to recognize my need, and finally ask for help.

Except I’m not one who usually asks for anything. Most of the time I’m not even really sure what my needs are. So, this process was a long one. I knew if I was to stay at this church, I would eventually have to have that debriefing conversation, and the task felt overwhelming. I decided to start by asking for some time with a woman I had interacted with in church for over a year and had built some level of trust with. I understood her to be kind, wise, and caring. She also knew and cared for the person I needed to talk with and so could give me insight in how best to approach the conversation. She was willing, but it took a couple of weeks to find a block of time that worked for us both. While I waited, my thoughts and emotions continued to be really intense. This too had ties to past experiences of sharing part of my story with friends and finding reprimand rather than understanding.

Thankfully this time was different. The wait was so very worth it. That block of time was the first step in a truly life altering season. I told my new friend the relevant parts of my spiritual abuse story and of what had happened leading up to and during the triggering conversation. She listened with so much compassion, saw the connections from my past to the present, and affirmed that my reaction made sense in light of my history. She also confirmed that the current triggering events and my concerns about them were significant in and of themselves and needed to be addressed. The weight I had been carrying felt so much lighter and the knot in my stomach loosened. Just having someone hear my story, care, and say “that makes sense,” was monumental. Later I learned that there’s a term for having an experience that redeems a previous one, a corrective experience. And I had just had one.

Despite that extremely helpful and healing conversation, the task of going to the other person to address the situation still felt daunting. So I took a smaller step and asked this new friend if she would go with me to help me do it well. She not only agreed but reassured me that she understood both of us to be people who were mature, caring, and desirous of doing right. She told me that she believed our interaction would be beneficial to us both and that if she had any concern that we would not respond well to each other, she’d tell me.

Even with her support and reassurance, going to have that conversation was HARD! I typed up notes, re-wrote them, re-wrote again, and again. I prayed, cried, and lost sleep. But in the end it was another beautiful corrective experience. Where in past conversations abusive leaders justified themselves with scripture taken out of context and placed all blame on me, this person heard me, apologized, asked clarifying questions, explained things I hadn’t understood, and encouraged me. This conversation was what those others ought to have been. This person may have had a similar personality and style to my past abusive leaders, but unlike those leaders, this person had the maturity, character, kindness, and humility to reflect Christ well to others.

Resolving that situation was the first step into another realm of healing I had yet to do. Having reached out for help and found it once gave me the courage to continue doing it. Once to ask for help finding a counselor who understood spiritual abuse, brains, and emotions in ways that I just didn’t. It felt super awkward to approach a friend to ask for that recommendation, but once again my request was met with care, and the help I requested. Then to make contact with the recommended counselor, and find her to be wonderful, helpful, and so very kind. Another time to ask if a friend with her own difficult story would consider walking through beEmboldened’s first course on Rebuilding [After Spiritual Abuse with me], and have the privilege of entering a new depth of friendship as a result. While the process has been challenging and uncomfortable, the insights I’ve gained from those I’ve let in, and the soul work I’ve done in it, have been incredibly rich.

There have been other triggers. But now I know what they are, why they’re happening, and how to help myself during and after those times. Sometimes they’ve signaled that there’s a space I’m just not ready to be in yet. That I need to have patience and be gentle with myself in that area. Other times they’ve shined a spotlight on a situation that I need to address or an area where healing work is still needed. Because of the corrective experiences I’ve already had, I’ve been able to approach those tough conversations with less apprehension than previous ones. Because I have told my story and found compassion and help, I’ve been able to form healthy friendships and build resources for myself. Because others were caring and responsive listeners for me, I have learned to listen well to the stories of others and be a soft landing place for them.

I never would have chosen this path with all of its painful, and at times terrifying, twists and turns. My journey is far from complete. Occasional storms still rage. But even just a couple years further down the road I can see beauty that was hidden before. I feel a bit like Much Afraid in Hannah Hurnard’s Hind’s Feet on High Places as she sat in a cave in the midst of a storm looking through her bag of remembrance stones. Each one signified a lesson learned, a promise kept, and the hope of good to come. Though she was worn from the journey and feared she’d never arrive, though she was tempted to throw all of the stones away and give up at times, one by one she examined them, considered what they represented, and decided they were worth holding onto. What she didn’t know at that moment, was that those ugly little pebbles that represented some of her most trying moments would eventually become priceless jewels. Sometimes I start to see the hint of a sparkle or flash of rich color of something precious being made from my own difficult times, and it gives me hope that one day, they too, can be transformed into something beautiful, as God continues his redeeming work.