Marcus

I woke up today unable to move my neck. I couldn't sleep for a good portion of the night either, so I called the local Massage Envy as I'm a member and got the first available appointment: 10:00am. I was in such pain and I was even worried that the massage would do more harm than good since I didn't know the cause. Granted, I have slept in four different beds in the past week and driven hours and hours with shouting kids in the backseat, so...there's that.
Marcus was a miracle worker. The lactic acid pockets were expelled and I walked out a new woman. Still sore, but not with the pain and immobility as before.
But even more profound than Marcus's great massage work is his story. He served two tours in the armed services and in the latter, his team came upon an IED. It did some major damage and Marcus has been through 25+ surgeries and was "drugged up" by the recommendation of VA. Marcus said he finally realized he had a choice in his life and stopped taking all forms of medications. He found peace in massage therapy as he is able to help others in a one-on-one setting with the calm of dim lights and quiet music to surround him. He says he has an uphill battle, but becoming a massage therapist was life-saving. I couldn't get over the contrasts in his life and how open he was with me about them.
These are the moments for which I am thankful. I am thankful for Marcus. For his service to the U.S.. For his understanding of self. And for the care he offered me mere moments after meeting me.

Little Girl, Get Up

Fifteen years ago I was raped. Fifteen years ago almost to the day. I’ve been thinking about writing that first sentence for a long time. Now it’s out. While the U.S. was getting ready to be hit by one of the worst terror attacks, I was on the other side of the world juggling the physical and emotional trauma connected to my own attack in the midst of a visit from my mother and her (our) good friend, Marilyn. And suddenly we were swept away in the chaos of 9/11. Caught up in international borders, stranded in Canada, and finally recovering and seeking intensive therapy in Washington D.C.

I don’t need or want to go through the details now. I just needed to write that first sentence in order to keep moving forward.

I want to tell you that most of the time I want to think being raped was just a blip. It was just a horrible event that couldn’t have affected me that much. After all, it could have been so much worse. I’m lucky that it only happened once and that I wasn’t hurt. People experience so much worse and so I minimize my own experience. It’s true. The phrase “no big deal” pops up in my head when the memory tries to come back or someone asks about it.  While I cannot know others’ experiences, I realize I must be honest that in my own life, being raped was a big deal. It does affect me.

It affects the way I talk to my boys about the words “no” and “stop.” It affects the way I watch interactions between men and women. It affects the way I watch or cannot watch movies. It affects the way I hear jokes or comments that use the word ‘rape.’ It affects my family and friends in that they don’t know how or when it will come back in my head. It affects the way I walk or run alone in broad daylight or in the dark. It affects my need for control. It affects me everyday.

I’ve discovered recently that the PTSD that I experienced from that one event comes back. Suddenly emotions are uncontrollable, concentrating is extremely difficult, and it’s hard to let go and sleep. I didn’t know this could happen. No one told me that the emotional aftermath of an event that I deemed “over and done” could come back so clearly.

What comes up for you? What experiences have affected your life, both positively and negatively?  How do you acknowledge the impact and keep moving forward?

If you’d like to read the story from my mom’s perspective, she has self-published a book that is available on Amazon. Little Girl, Get Up by Rosalie Koehler.