I took my children to see Kung Fu Panda 4. They’ve always enjoyed these movies, and — best of all — they were showing it at the movie theater that wisely installed a playground inside. My kids got playtime and movie time, and I got to relax in a heated recliner to a movie featuring Jack Black.
What I’ve always appreciated about these movies is that they show the reality of meditation. Trying to find “inner peace” isn’t as easy as just chanting it. Other thoughts pop up, and sometimes, the voices in our head aren’t even our own. It can be hard to find our Zen when the world is determined to provide distractions.
It can be hard to find our Zen when the world is determined to provide distractions.
All my life, I was steeped in a stew of anxiety.
I didn’t enjoy school. My home life was challenging. I lived in a permanent state of angst — particularly during the teenage years. But that angst didn’t disappear in adulthood. It just evolved.
I struggled in relationships and at work. I was always too busy and frequently overwhelmed. I searched for peace, but I couldn’t find it.
Then, unexpectedly, I found joy. I fell in love. For a little while there, I felt safe in the relationship. But when the rug called pulled from beneath me, I realized that it was all temporary. Health, work, relationships — everything could change in an instant. How are we supposed to find anything resembling peace when that happens?
I searched for peace, but I couldn’t find it.
The path to peace wasn’t exactly what I anticipated.
I was grieving the loss of my health and the loss of a relationship. My disorder came with an unwelcome and cyclical suicide ideology paired with a lack of impulse control. It scared me, and I knew what I had to do. I took myself straight to therapy while waiting for the doctor’s appointment that would confirm my diagnosis.
I know that therapy can help us find peace, but what I didn’t expect was the particular treatment modality. I had been a therapy client before. I even became a therapist and worked with individuals, families, and children for a few years. But even with my background, graduate-level education, and knowledge, I didn’t expect that the treatment that would help me most was one I’d never even heard of before.
My therapist pointed out that I already had the tools. I had the knowledge and coping skills. What I also had was trauma. She suggested a type of trauma therapy known as EMDR, or eye movement desensitization and reprocessing. I was immediately skeptical — but equally desperate. I gave it a try.
I didn’t expect that the treatment that would help me most was one I’d never even heard of before.
EMDR has been proven effective for the treatment of PTSD and complex post traumatic stress disorder (C-PTSD). Mine was more of the second variety. Over the course of several months, I participated in a type of therapy that helped me connect my mind and body. I learned to recognize triggers and to soothe my nervous system. But the truly surprising part for me was that it changed my every day reactions.
Triggers I’ve always had were gone. Relationships that were always strained became much easier. I had clarity where I had previously had none. It wasn’t a miracle — although it certainly felt that way. It was science.
The peace wasn’t temporary.
Don’t get me wrong. Life has continued to throw some curve balls at me. My disorder got worse for a while. I lost a job because of it. I went through a serious financial crisis. It seemed like nothing was in my control. I had anxiety. I had tough days and big emotions. But what I didn’t have was a complicated mess of trauma triggers just waiting to set me off.
I struggled. There is no cure or relief from that. I’m alive, after all. But I didn’t react the way I might have once. I wasn’t reliving old trauma under the surface of every new life event. I handled it — and kept handling it.
I stopped trying to control what I couldn’t, and I began to look for the things that were in my control. My perspective. My habits. How I spent my time. What I could do to correct the downward spiral. There was more in my control than I had realized.
Instead of continuing to stew in anxiety, the way I surely would have done before, I began to make positive forward movements. Did I often feel like a turtle slogging my way through peanut butter? Of course! But I didn’t stop. I kept making small moves in my life. If it eased my stress, I was all for it. I pulled my life back together with one tiny healthy choice at a time.
Instead of continuing to stew in anxiety, the way I surely would have done before, I began to make positive forward movements.
On Cultivating Zen
My work in therapy didn’t just stop with EMDR. There are still things I have to work on outside my therapy sessions. I’m committed to self-awareness and personal growth. While I had days of sulking and throwing my own pity party, I have a lot more days where I feel peaceful in my life.
I also stopped trying to find joy outside of myself. I don’t think it’s out there, hiding in another person. I don’t wait for it to arrive when certain life events fall into place. I’m cultivating my peace and happiness right now — and it doesn’t look anything like what I had imagined.
If you’d told me six months or a year ago what my life would be like now, I would have laughed and thought you were crazy. But I’ve learned to trust my intuition. I’ve created more room in my life for the unexpected.
I’ll be practicing as a therapist again soon, a move even I didn’t see coming. I know it’s time. I’ve put in the time on my own healing. Now, I’m looking forward to helping others find theirs.
I’ve created more room in my life for the unexpected.
I invested in backyard chickens. Absolutely no one in my life saw that one coming, including me. I love it. One of my favorite daily routines is walking through my garden to look for new leaves and blooms and then visiting with my chickens. They like the chickweed that grows wild if left unchecked, and they enjoy snacking on dandelions. As I walk, I pick up snacks for my girls while tending to my garden. It helps me maintain mindfulness, and it brings me joy — even when things don’t go as planned.
I couldn’t have done any of this before my trauma therapy experience. I wasn’t good at making changes. I needed things to be in my control. I was hypervigilant to an extreme. Sometimes, I still experience those shadows, but now I have the tools to recognize those impulses and to soothe them.
Peace was always here for me. I just couldn’t access it through the minefield that was my history of trauma. Until I could. Until another therapist sat down and showed me the way. One day, in the not too distant future, I’ll be trained in the same treatment modality that removed those barriers for me. I’ll learn to be a guide in that same path to peace.
If you’d told me that a year ago, I wouldn’t have believed you.
But here we are.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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From The Good Men Project on Medium
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Photo credit: Jacek Smoter on Unsplash