Chapter 15

The following week began with a trip to the hospital at the crack of dawn for her scheduled hysterectomy. She was almost as excited about this surgery as she had been about giving birth to her children. It was hard to put into words just how much she was looking forward to never “hemorrhaging”—as she called it—again. The procedure symbolized new beginnings.

Hadrian dropped her off at the entrance, and June told him she’d text him when the surgery was over. She would be spending the night at the hospital, and if everything went as planned, Hadrian would pick her up the following afternoon when she was discharged.

As she walked through the lobby, memories flooded her. This was the same hospital where she had delivered Emily. Each of her children had been born in a different hospital, for different reasons, but this one had brought Emily into the world. June vividly recalled leaving the hospital with Emily nestled in her tiny car seat, bundled in baby blankets to shield her from the frigid January air.

June had hoped to deliver Emily naturally, after being unable to do so with Elizabeth. She had made more progress with Emily, reaching 8 centimeters compared to only 4 with Elizabeth. But after the midwife broke her water following 20 hours of labor, everything went awry. Her cervix, instead of continuing to dilate, began closing up, despite her urge to push.

By the time she arrived at this hospital, June knew she needed a C-section. The OB had listened to her, rushing her into surgery. After the birth, he had told her that he always listened when mothers said it was an emergency—he trusted that they knew their own bodies better than anyone. And sure enough, he discovered that her previous C-section scar was paper thin and ready to rupture.

If only that same OB had listened when she asked for a hysterectomy. Water under the bridge, June tried to tell herself, but a small grudge still lingered. Today, however, was a new dawn. The darkness of the past was lifting. She checked herself in, and soon they took her into surgery. One last nurse entered the room, apologizing but explaining that she had to ensure June understood that after the hysterectomy, she wouldn’t be able to have any more children. They both shared a good laugh, and June assured her she understood perfectly.

June found it sad and frustrating that she hadn’t been able to have Evelyn at this hospital due to its Catholic policy against tubal ligation. In the inner-city hospital, they wouldn’t perform the procedure, but in the suburban hospital where she had Evelyn, they had no issue with it. At least it seemed they had finally come around.

As June undressed and slipped into the hospital gown, the elation she had felt earlier began to fade. In its place came a mild discomfort, an unease she couldn’t quite name. She wasn’t worried—she trusted the doctors to perform this routine surgery. So what was this feeling? She tried to shake it off as she lay down on the operating table, the cold steel beneath her reminding her of how surreal this moment was. As they wheeled her into the operating room, the strange sensation lingered, refusing to be ignored.

June’s cousin, one of her closest relatives and best friends, used to call her fearless when they were kids. And usually, she was—always chasing adventure and taking risks. This surgery was just another adventure, she thought. She was excited about the outcome, but as the anesthetic was prepared and pushed into her IV, something shifted. The moment they asked her to count backward from 10, she couldn’t focus on the numbers. All she could think about was the ice-cold sensation flooding her veins as the anesthetic rushed up her arm at lightning speed.

“I’m scared,” she heard herself say, though it felt like the voice was coming from somewhere outside of her body. The nurse above her was a blur, her movements sped up, like a movie on fast-forward. June’s vision was fuzzy, and everything seemed to be moving too quickly. She noticed something oozing down her right hip and wondered why that was.

“You’re scared? Why? There’s nothing to be scared of, hun,” the nurse said, still moving quickly and just out of June’s clear line of sight, working below her waist. June thought her feet were in stirrups. She felt exposed—naked, vulnerable, and afraid. “Your surgery is all done, and everything is fine.”

June struggled to speak clearly, forcing herself to move her lips and push breath from her lungs. “Something is dripping. I’m bleeding.” She reached her right hand down to touch where she felt the slow trail of liquid on her hip, seeping onto the operating table below her.

“Oh, now hold on, hun. Let me take a look at that,” the nurse said, moving June’s arm back into place. “Oh yes, I see it, just a little bit of oozing. Don’t worry, I’ll get that cleaned up here in a jiff. On a scale of 1 to 10, how’s your pain?”

Until the nurse asked, June hadn’t felt pain—just the oozing sensation. But suddenly, the pain hit her like a bolt, sharp and searing in her belly, as if something had torn from her insides. She remembered why she was there. Her uterus was gone now. It hurt. Badly.

“I think it’s a 7 or 8. It hurts bad,” she said, her voice catching as tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks. June began to cry, unsure why. She wasn’t just crying—she was sobbing. The nurse appeared above her again, more clearly in focus now, her expression softened with sympathy. She quickly called for pain medication, and within seconds, someone had administered it through June’s IV.

Still sobbing, June's voice rose louder, almost in a wail. “I’m scared,” she said again, as the cold sensation crept back through her veins, up her arm. But the pain melted away just as quickly. The nurse asked again why she was scared, and June could only shake her head, baffled. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. She had never had this kind of reaction to surgery or pain before. She was as confused by it as the nurse seemed to be.

The nurse asked if the pain had subsided, and June nodded as the sobbing quieted, her breathing steadying. Before she knew it, she was in her own recovery room, lying comfortably. She texted Hadrian and then Donna, letting them know she was out of surgery and doing well. And then, she fell into a deep sleep.

The next few hours were a blur of nurse check-ins—vital signs, checking her incisions, offering ice chips. All June wanted to do was sleep. She wasn’t ready for water or meals yet. She knew the post-op routine from her C-sections: no water until she peed, no food until she passed gas. She wasn’t hungry, just exhausted.

The next day, June woke up feeling more like herself. Her body had begun to function normally again, and she enjoyed a decent breakfast. By early afternoon, Hadrian arrived to take her home. Once there, she rested, following the doctor's orders not to lift anything over 10 pounds for six weeks. She had two weeks off from work and planned to focus on recovery during that time. Thankfully, she was cleared to drive.

Tuesday night, June texted Donna to let her know she wouldn’t be able to meet for dinner on Wednesday, not only due to her surgery but because of a virtual awards ceremony for Elizabeth’s Forensics team that evening. Donna replied that she understood and agreed it wouldn’t be a good night to go out, advising June to focus on recovery. June was relieved that Donna understood.

The next night, Elizabeth was awarded a special honor during the forensics ceremony. Each child had a short performance to share with the parents attending virtually, but Elizabeth hadn’t told June or Hadrian which piece she had chosen. It came as a pleasant, albeit prophetic, surprise when Elizabeth recited an adaptation of The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman.

The famous short story, told through journal entries, follows a woman driven to madness after her physician husband confines her to a locked nursery for a “rest cure” to treat her depression and hysteria—a common practice for women in those days.

A shiver ran down June’s spine as she recalled how confined she’d felt during her own time in the psychiatric hospital. She had paced like a caged animal, despite the fact that she’d allowed Hadrian to admit her. She told herself she was there of her own free will, and yet, she still felt trapped.

Elizabeth’s ability to channel that madness was eerie. In that moment, she seemed so much older than her 11 years, and June was left spellbound by her performance, deeply impressed with how much her daughter must understand about the world to embody such a role.

The next day, June met with Solin. They talked about her surgery and what Dr. Saeed had discussed with her the previous Saturday—the recommendation to try Vraylar, or at the very least, increase the frequency of talk therapy. Dr. Saeed had suddenly become a strong advocate for the idea that talk therapy could change brain structures.

Solin was happy to accommodate the request for weekly sessions and pointed out that they had already been meeting weekly since February 22. June hadn’t realized it until then, but it was true. The last three sessions had been weekly. Three data points tell a story, but they don’t necessarily indicate a trend, June mused to herself. It was an interesting realization.

She then vented her frustrations about not feeling heard regarding the medications. She didn’t want to go back on them; she wanted to learn how to balance without relying on a pill. June had already started researching the relationship between anxiety and psychosis, keeping a Google doc with articles she hoped would support her conversation with Dr. Saeed. But, clearly, Dr. Saeed hadn’t been open to hearing June’s hypothesis that she didn’t have bipolar disorder—just severe anxiety—and could find balance without medication.

June already felt much better and wasn’t planning on taking any more meds, even those prescribed for post-surgery pain, unless absolutely necessary. Solin supported her decision. At some point in the conversation, Solin recommended a book called Fierce Self-Compassion by Kristin Neff. June had forgotten Solin’s previous reminder about how hard it was to set boundaries and be kind to herself.

June had already started reading What Happened to You by Bruce Perry and Oprah Winfrey. Hadrian had quoted something from an NPR interview with the author, and it resonated strongly with her. The book had shifted her thinking from what’s wrong with me to what happened to me, and she was beginning to see how past traumas could underlie many mental health challenges. She added Solin’s recommendation to her reading list.

Later that afternoon, while the kids were at theater practice, June stopped by Dr. Saeed’s office to pick up the Vraylar and the coupons. It was just across the street from Twilight Theater, and although June had been feeling much better that week, she thought it wouldn’t hurt to have the medication—just in case.

With less than an hour before the kids needed to be picked up, June decided to stay in the car rather than drive home and back. She unfolded the drug information leaflet from the Vraylar package. The tiny print filled the broad sheet of paper in front of her, and she was surprised by how much there was to read.

It took nearly half the hour she had to herself to get through it all, and by the time she finished, a familiar stirring rose in her gut. What she had read wasn’t good. The side effects were nearly identical to those of Abilify—plus a few more.

Why had Dr. Saeed lied? June wondered. Had she lied knowingly, or was she just ignorant enough not to do the basic research June had just done? Either way, it was unsettling. June realized she had never fact-checked Dr. Saeed before, always trusting the doctors. But now, that trust was wavering.

Her thoughts spiraled quickly, and within seconds, she was on the phone with her insurance company. Sure enough, they didn’t cover the new drug yet, and it was going to cost her hundreds of dollars out of pocket. That part, at least, Dr. Saeed had been clear about. At least she got that right, June thought bitterly.

The coupons would help for a while, allowing her to afford about six months’ worth of medication before it became too expensive. But what then? She’d be hooked on the drug, spending her savings just to function? That wasn’t good enough for June. Not even close. Her resolve hardened—she wouldn’t let herself become reliant on these pills. She was more determined than ever to prove the doctors wrong.

That Friday, although June was feeling almost back to normal aside from being unable to lift heavy objects, she decided to order in for her girls’ night with the kids. She opted for Indian food again from Tandoori Terrace, a favorite for both her and the kids. She loved supporting local businesses, especially since the owners were friendly with Hadrian and his best friend. The food was not only delicious but healthy, too. As she made plans for the evening, June also began mentally preparing herself to start walking again. She felt ready to begin on Monday and thought maybe she’d ask Evelyn to join her—they both needed the exercise more than the rest of the family.

Donna texted to check in, asking how June was feeling and what her weekend plans were. Earlier that day, June had heard from her foster mother, Pearl, who was in town from Florida for her oldest daughter’s. Pearl had invited her to stop by on Sunday, so June relayed that to Donna, along with how busy her Saturday would be with driving the kids around. She reassured Donna that she was healing well and feeling great after the surgery.

June had never lost touch with her foster family, the Schneiders—especially Pearl. They shared a special lifelong bond. Pearl had taken June in just before her 18th birthday, though not through the legal foster system. Still, June always referred to Pearl as her foster mother and Pearl’s ex-husband, Jack, as her foster father. Jack still lived near Makaska, as did June’s foster sisters, Sophia and Deborah—although Deborah now went by DJ and used they/them pronouns. June was still getting used to that and wasn’t sure if DJ identified as gender-neutral, non-binary, or agender. She wasn’t entirely versed in the distinctions.

June was delighted to hear from Pearl, realizing it had been a long time since they’d gotten together. Pearl had invited her to visit Florida for years, but the timing had never seemed right. June struggled to prioritize the trip with all the other vacations and obligations for herself and her family. She stayed in touch with Jack and the kids mostly through an annual summer party Jack hosted at his house in the countryside, just 30 minutes outside of Makaska.

June assured Pearl that she would attend Sophia’s baby shower. Hadrian’s family was coming into town that day, too, but he could entertain them while June made a quick visit to the shower. She made a mental note to stop by Target to check out Sophia and Rio’s gift registry in between her Saturday errands. The thought of seeing her foster family all in one place for the first time in over ten years filled her with excitement.

June had been by Pearl’s side during her divorce from Jack. Pearl had needed her more than Jack did—he had family and roots in the area, while Pearl didn’t. June recalled being pregnant with Elizabeth at the time, and soon after the divorce, Pearl had decided to move to Florida.

Pearl and Jack had made the divorce relatively easy on June. They never trashed each other or tried to make her choose sides, though their children had a different experience. Jack had insisted that Pearl had bipolar disorder and wanted her to get treatment. Pearl, who had been through years of therapy, resisted at first, hurt by Jack’s unofficial diagnosis and his attempts to convince others of it.

In private, Pearl had acknowledged her mental health struggles to June, owning her part in the toll it had taken on their marriage. Jack, on the other hand, never owned any part of his own mental health challenges, despite being the adult child of two alcoholic parents.

Years earlier, Jack had confided in June about his concerns regarding what he saw as strange behavior from Pearl, and his suspicions of bipolar disorder. At one point, June had asked Jack to stop discussing it with her. She had told him, if he was so unhappy, why didn’t he leave? With tears in his eyes, Jack had said he loved Pearl too much to walk away. After that, June didn’t hear much more about it until the divorce happened.

Their divorce was amicable enough, and June never felt obligated to take sides. She knew it just wasn’t going to work out between them. Now, as she prepared for the baby shower, she looked forward to reconnecting with everyone. For some reason, it felt like the perfect time to reunite. Another feeling of prophecy washed over her—it felt meant to be.

The next day, June stopped by Target and picked up adorable baby gifts. Twins! She could hardly fathom the idea of coming home with two tiny babies instead of one. She was glad Sophia had a strong family and financial support system—she was going to need it. One of the babies had been diagnosed with a congenital issue in the womb and would require surgery immediately after birth. Thankfully, the surgery was considered routine and not particularly risky.

As Sunday rolled around, June felt remarkably pain-free and mentally balanced for the first time in weeks. She and Hadrian discussed their plans for the day. His sister, Hayden, was bringing her family up for a visit. She and her husband had a wedding to attend, and their kids would stay with the Harts to give them a full night out as a couple. June planned to return from the baby shower before they all arrived.

Setting the GPS to guide her to a small bar and grill near Jack’s countryside home, the one where she had lived as a foster kid while transitioning from adolescence to adulthood, June felt a wave of peace wash over her. This again? she thought. It felt good but strange—a deep, warm sense of openness that reminded her of times when she felt free and fully herself. While she welcomed the feeling, she wasn’t sure how it would work at a baby shower, attending solo, surrounded by people she hadn’t seen in years. Still, she decided to enjoy the sensation as much as she could.

She drove for about 30 minutes, lost in thoughts about the sensations and emotions she had been experiencing over the past month. June looked forward to seeing DJ, her foster sibling, who had recently graduated with a master’s in social work. DJ was now a licensed clinical social worker in Florida, serving underrepresented communities. June hoped for a quiet moment during the shower when she could pick DJ’s brain about her own mental health struggles.

When June arrived at the bar, she was ushered into a private room where Pearl greeted her with a giant hug and a peck on the cheek. Pearl had always been larger than life, much like her namesake Janis Joplin’s wild and free-spirited alter ego, Pearl—a force of nature who exuded energy and warmth in every room she entered. When June first met her, she had been a teenager, and Pearl had been in her thirties—just a bit younger than June was now. Sophia and DJ had been toddlers at the time, DJ still in diapers.

Back then, the Schneiders' life had seemed idyllic. Pearl had a magnetic personality, while Jack, with his sharp intelligence and slightly awkward demeanor, still managed to be incredibly likable, his resemblance to a real-life George Michael only adding to his unique appeal. Their two little girls had reminded June of cherubic angels, with blonde hair and bright eyes. June felt like she had stepped into a fairy tale when she first came to live with them.

Of course, like any family, they had their skeletons in the closet, which June discovered later when Pearl and Jack divorced. But those skeletons had been laid to rest. Pearl and Jack had made peace, as had their kids, and Jack had even remarried his high school sweetheart, reconnecting through social media after the divorce.

After greeting everyone—Pearl, Jack, Jack’s brother Ralph and his wife Vera, Jack’s sister Kris, and the kids, Sophia and DJ—June suddenly felt overwhelmed. The energy in the room was intense, and she felt oddly alone. The noise, the bright lights, the laughter—it all seemed to pull her in, as if she were expanding into the chaos, unable to distinguish where she ended and the world around her began. For a moment, she felt dizzy, like everything was spinning out of control. She hadn’t expected this reaction. It was a somewhat familiar feeling, though, one she recognized from long ago, when she had first come into Pearl’s care.

But this time, it wasn’t Pearl who saved her—it was DJ. They noticed June’s discomfort and quickly introduced her to their friend Denise, who had accompanied them from Florida for the baby shower.

“This is my foster sister, June. She’s one of the most amazing people you’ll ever meet,” DJ said to Denise, glowing with pride. “She’s done so much. Graduated a year early from high school while going through tough times, put herself through college, has an amazing career, a wonderful husband, three kids, and a beautiful home. She’s been an inspiration to me.”

June smiled, feeling both flattered and slightly embarrassed by DJ’s enthusiastic introduction. DJ had painted her life as a picture-perfect success, but June knew the reality was more complicated. While she was proud of her accomplishments, she didn’t see herself as a hero. Still, she appreciated DJ’s admiration and let the praise stand.

After Denise was whisked away by Pearl to meet other family members, DJ and June stayed at the bar to catch up. June ordered a non-alcoholic drink, knowing better than to indulge when she was feeling unsettled. DJ’s energy, though warm and positive, was almost overwhelming. As they spoke about their work as a social worker, June found herself trying to keep her own balance amidst the intensity of DJ’s passion.

Amid all the energy in the room, it was DJ’s that nearly overwhelmed June. It seemed to radiate from them in powerful, invisible waves as DJ excitedly spoke about their work as an LCSW. June felt herself swaying, struggling to stay grounded as the force of it washed over her. DJ spoke animatedly about the challenges of their job—helping vulnerable women and navigating the complexities of trauma. Their dedication to their clients shone through in every word, and June was in awe of DJ’s determination and resilience.

DJ credited much of their success to their experiences growing up with Pearl, who by that time had been diagnosed with PTSD, not bipolar disorder. Pearl had faced a deeply challenging childhood that June felt was far more difficult than her own. When Pearl was just 13, she had been abducted from her southwestern home and sexually abused by a band of teenage boys, a traumatic event that marked the continuation of an already difficult journey.

In addition to that trauma, Pearl grew up in poverty and violence. She was the only girl in a family of four, raised by a single mother who often worked two or three jobs. Her mother’s absence left Pearl and her brothers fending for themselves, sometimes under the care of unreliable and abusive boyfriends. After her abduction, Pearl ended up in foster care, eventually running away to follow her mother and one brother up north to Makaska. It was there that she started building a better life for herself, fueled by her vibrant energy and determination.

By the time Pearl met Jack, she had already built a successful career as a hairstylist. Together, they started a business that took off when Pearl became a full-time homemaker and mother. That was when June entered their lives, and she bonded with Pearl instantly. Pearl’s empathy and understanding resonated deeply with June, as they both shared their own stories of hardship and survival.

Back then, DJ, known as Deborah Jean or Debbie, would often curl up on June’s lap while they watched TV, soothing themselves by sucking their thumb and gently rubbing the lobes of June’s ears. It was a comforting ritual for both of them, and June would sit with DJ until they fell asleep, their small hand resting on her shoulder.

Now, DJ was grown, and June found herself needing DJ’s advice. June first brought up Elizabeth’s struggles. DJ, who had been diagnosed with autism—something June had found hard to understand at first—listened closely. DJ didn’t seem autistic to June, but there was always something different about them, a uniqueness that June recognized more than ever in her current, open state.

As DJ spoke passionately, June could feel herself being pushed back by the sheer intensity of DJ’s energy. It was almost palpable, like a force pressing against her skull, giving her the sensation of a headache forming. She even wondered if there was a way to measure the energy radiating from people—what would DJ’s levels show? DJ strongly suspected, based on what June described, that Elizabeth might also be on the autism spectrum.

This was something that June hadn’t really considered before, even after Elizabeth wondered this herself years ago. June had brushed off the possibility back then, thinking Elizabeth was too young to understand such things. But now the idea suddenly seemed plausible, it resonated with June, and she resolved to explore the possibility further.

Their discussion shifted to trauma and PTSD, and DJ brought up a therapeutic technique called Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR), which had been shown to help with trauma recovery. June mentioned that her therapist had recommended hypnotherapy instead, but DJ advised caution, suggesting that hypnotherapy could sometimes lead to unintended complications. DJ encouraged her to research EMDR further, feeling strongly that it could help with June’s healing journey.

June nodded, absorbing DJ’s advice. She had been questioning her bipolar diagnosis for some time now, wondering if what she had been experiencing was more related to anxiety and trauma than a mood disorder. DJ considered this thoughtfully and asked if June had ever experienced symptoms of psychosis before her diagnosis in 2018. June couldn’t immediately recall any specific incidents but agreed to think more about it. She knew that her past held many difficult memories, and perhaps some of them might shed light on her current struggles.

As the baby shower’s main events began, DJ invited June to sit with them and Denise. June felt a wave of relief at being "adopted" once again by one of the Schneider clan. Several other family members were projected on a big screen, joining the event via video call. One positive thing about the COVID era, June thought, was how naturally it had made digital presences a part of gatherings.

June chatted with DJ and Denise about their careers, occasionally stumbling over DJ's pronouns. At one point, she accidentally asked, "Would you two ladies like another drink?" before quickly apologizing and correcting herself. DJ laughed good-naturedly and reassured her, "I’m getting more comfortable with my feminine side these days, so that’s totally fine." DJ, too, had been through their fair share of trauma, which had shaped their perspective.

As they ate, DJ and June discussed her other daughters, Evelyn and Emily. Both had their own mental health struggles—Evelyn with her bouts of depression and emotional eating, and Emily, who was always on the go and often forgot to eat. DJ, knowledgeable about neurodivergence, introduced June to the concept. It was a new term for June but made sense—people’s natural wiring caused them to experience the world differently. Conditions like autism and ADHD fell under the broad umbrella of neurodivergence.

June told DJ that even Hadrian had expressed curiosity about symptoms of ADD, and had self-identified with some of those traits. June herself wondered if she might share some of Elizabeth’s autistic tendencies, given how similar they were. DJ nodded knowingly, explaining that neurodivergent traits often passed from parents to children.

After the gift opening and a few lighthearted games, June made the rounds to say goodbye to everyone. She gave Sophia an extra hug, telling her she was going to make an amazing mother. Sophia, the quieter of the two sisters, smiled shyly and thanked her. June added that, with her kids getting older, she might need babysitters someday and would keep Sophia in mind!

As June left, she felt both overwhelmed by all the energy and enlightened by DJ’s knowledge. DJ had offered her so much insight into the connections between trauma and mental health. June left the shower even more determined to get to the bottom of her bipolar diagnosis, to figure out what was truly going on. This new feeling of openness, vulnerability, and peace was strange but welcome.

Later, June enjoyed a brief visit with the Spencers, Hadrian’s sister Hayden and her family. By the time she returned, Hayden and her husband Colin were preparing to head back to Chicago. They exchanged pleasantries, sharing a few stories about the wedding they had attended.

Hayden and Colin remarked how much they had changed since moving away from Makaska. They talked about their old friends in condescending, pitying tones, as if those friends were stuck in the past while they had moved forward. They spoke as if they had escaped their old lives of hardship and finally "made it." June wondered if their pity masked a kind of survivor’s guilt.

That night, June tried to talk to Hadrian about everything she had been learning. He listened patiently as she became teary-eyed, especially when she began talking about her breakup with Donna. In a sudden moment of clarity, June realized that what she had truly wanted all along wasn’t an affair or a girlfriend—it was Hadrian. She had wanted him to be more present, more available to her.

Through her tears, June apologized to Hadrian for the affair with Donna, admitting that, even though she had his permission, it had never felt right. She owned her mistake, telling him she wished she had turned to him for the attention she had sought outside their marriage. She confessed that it had hurt her deeply that he hadn’t seemed to care about the affair and asked him why.

Tears welled in Hadrian’s eyes as he admitted he didn’t know why he had told her it was okay. He acknowledged that it wasn’t, just as his own brief affair with another woman hadn’t been right either, even though June had allowed it. They lay there together, yet apart—June’s tears flowing freely, while Hadrian’s remained unshed. Neither of them reached out to the other, neither moved to close the distance between them. They simply lay in silence until eventually, they turned over and fell asleep.

John doesn't know how much I really suffer. He knows there is no reason to suffer, and that satisfies him. It is getting to be a great effort for me to think straight. Just this nervous weakness I suppose.

― Charlotte Perkins Gilman, The Yellow Wall-Paper

“So I’m not crazy?” 

“No. Your brain is doing exactly what you would expect it to do considering what you lived through.”

The pillars of traditional healing were 1) connection to clan and the natural world; 2) regulating rhythm through dance, drumming, and song; 3) a set of beliefs, values, and stories that brought meaning to even senseless, random trauma; and 4) on occasion, natural hallucinogens or other plant-derived substances used to facilitate healing with the guidance of a healer or elder. It is not surprising that today’s best practices in trauma treatment are basically versions of these four things.

Most people who are in the process of excavating the reasons they do what they do are met at some point with resistance. “You’re blaming the past.” “Your past is not an excuse.” This is true. Your past is not an excuse. But it is an explanation—offering insight into the questions so many of us ask ourselves: Why do I behave the way I behave? Why do I feel the way I do? 

For me, there is no doubt that our strengths, vulnerabilities, and unique responses are an expression of what happened to us. Very often, “what happened” takes years to reveal itself. It takes courage to confront our actions, peel back the layers of trauma in our lives, and expose the raw truth of our past. But this is where healing begins.

― Oprah Winfrey and Bruce D. Perry, What Happened to You?: Conversations on Trauma, Resilience, and Healing