Saltiness: A Reflection on Healing from the Impact of Trauma
October 24, 2024 marked the 10th anniversary of the day I walked into therapy.
Last Thursday was a day filled with good things that are the result of my decision to do the hard work of healing from the impact of trauma. It was the tenth anniversary of the day I walked up a ramp, across a porch, through the front door of a Victorian house, and climbed the stairs for my first therapy appointment.
I consider that walk the longest, hardest walk of my life; it is also the most important walk of my life. That Einstein watched over me as I climbed the stairs was helpful as my dad had always called me a genius when he woke me. Maybe doing this was part of my genius? I certainly hoped so.
To celebrate that day, I had a Zoom conversation with my first therapist (my Brave readers know her as Dr. Sue). As our conversation began, I told her, "I am not even the same person who walked into your office. I was so much more perfect then!" She laughed her full rich laugh that always felt like a hug.
Though we laughed, we also understood that it was true. I am not perfect; I am better than perfect. Why? Because I can now accept and embrace myself as fully human, with all the emotions that come with that. There is no emotion or memory that I must repress or run from. I can now enjoy life while living inside my own body and life instead of living just outside of it, where I tried to strive for perfection.
Scott and I decided to send Dr. Sue flowers to celebrate the day. The planets aligned perfectly for them to arrive while she and I talked. Watching her receive our gift of gratitude was delightful. I am as grateful to her as she is proud of me. We both believe that God walked this journey with us. She understood how truly brave I was every time I walked up those stairs. This day and conversation are a memory that I will always treasure.
During the afternoon, I spent a few hours reflecting on my ten-year healing journey. I have filled four books, numerous published essays, dozens of podcasts, and over 250 Substack articles with the lessons and wisdom I have gleaned, not only through therapy but also by my determination to make sense of the impact of trauma on myself and the world. I still have much to learn and write, but I have come so far.
If I could go back and meet my younger self at the bottom of the ramp that led to the porch of the Victorian house, I would tell her, “This is going to be very hard, but one day you will finally make sense of yourself, this awful pain inside of you will fade into the past, and you will be living a life you cannot possibly imagine right now. Know that someone is waiting at the top of the stairs who will never walk away from you. Trust me on this one.” Then, I would hold her hand so we could bravely walk up that ramp and begin healing. Even knowing how hard those days of healing were, if necessary, I would choose to walk up that ramp again.
I ended the day leading a two-hour Zoom class with the students enrolled in the courses I am currently teaching for Tabor College. I told them it was the tenth anniversary of the day I began therapy and they smiled, clapped, and cheered. They all came to the program with their own stories and understood the importance of the day. They are teachers, therapists, a pastor, school counselors, adoptive parents of kids from hard places, immigrants, nonprofit leaders, and more. They are from every corner of America and various faith backgrounds. They will teach and inspire me for the next six weeks.
The day was filled with memories of how many healing tears I cried, how blessed I was to be unconditionally cared for, and the incredible opportunities I now have to "sit in the room" with so many who are working hard to make this world a better place for the most vulnerable among us. Even during these difficult times, I continue to watch a growing movement of compassion that is grounded in an understanding of neuroscience and the impact of trauma. My choice ten years ago has enabled me to become part of this movement. I am both honored and humbled.
A Few More thoughts:
On Wednesday, I attended a panel discussion hosted by the Arizona Trauma Institute. Dr. Robert Rhoton and his team have been extremely influential in my understanding of trauma and have provided opportunities to share what I gleaned (see yesterday’s
Trauma in the Pews resource post). One of the panelists told a story about the common saying, “You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink.” In the story, a farmer disagreed stating, “Yes, you can. You just need to add salt to his oats and he will gladly drink the water.”
I thought of the story as I opened my computer this morning to decide what to post. I have nine unfinished McMusings in my drafts file and several more on my computer. Our world is for the most part unaware that it is drowning from the impact of trauma and how the powerful use fear to advance their agendas. While we could say that “everyone does this” that does not answer anything.
Through the lens of all I have gleaned on this journey, I can see two paths our nation may choose going forward. One path is willing to promote an understanding of trauma (message me for documentation). The other path is dismissive of the impact and churning chaos that harms those who are already impacted and vulnerable, me included.
My draft file holds nine McMusings (plus some that I managed to post) in which I tried to explain why I believe the understanding of trauma is the deciding factor. I cannot make anyone drink the water that would help them understand this; I can be the salt in the oats by demonstrating how healing from the impact of trauma makes life better in every way by providing inner peace and the desire to care for the wounded. The world needs saltiness right now!
“You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.”
Matthew 5:13 NIV
My fear is that we have lost the saltiness of the healing message Jesus offered. Many have turned to supporting those who they believe will have the power to force others to drink the water of those things they believe in so strongly. Healing has helped me understand that I help no one by trying to control them.
We do need well-informed truth-tellers; I sometimes step into that role. But, during this reflective week, I realized that the salt I am called to put in the oats is a living example of what it means to turn ourselves inside out in pursuit of healing and becoming trauma-informed/sensitive/responsive. This pursuit has not made me perfect; it has made me fully human and capable of the deepest level of empathy.
Finally, I had an appointment with my current therapist this week. I meet with her once a month and in Janyne World a lot can happen in a month. This past month was no exception and she was pleased that I had found healthy ways to process my friend’s death. Then she said, “Janyne, every time you show up here, you are fully you.” It struck me that this was not true for most of my life. What an amazing thing healing is! I will treasure her words. A healed (and healing) human is the saltiest salt imaginable.
I loved reading this! I am not thankful for your trauma, but I am thankful for your healing. And I just want to say that the fully you Janyne—the salty Janyne—is the Janyne God has used to encourage me and the Janyne I have grown to treasure.
Congratulations on such an auspicious anniversary! Every time you write, you inspire me. As I read this post and all of the points of growth in it, I almost wanted to list them. Copy them. Use them. It really is a glorious read. Big hugs!