Destination- a little therapy room, often smelling thickly of the prior client’s cannabis, fifty minutes away, to be arrived at by speeding along highways and byways. -a little therapy room that would hold the wonders of the world, and magic, and solace, and finally….someone who would completely stand by my side to validate and strengthen me.

How did God get me to that little room, you wonder? Gather around and lend me your ears, or rather, eyes , to read this account, all true.

We begin this journey many years ago, when I was still very naive, and homeschooling a large number of young children who all belonged to me. It was a very snowy February day and I had just gone out on the porch to take clothes off the line when a van came around the icy corner, slid quietly off the road and turned upside down into the steam at the end of our property. The children and I rushed to rescue, and I met a beautiful young mom and her three children- two preschoolers and a baby wet from the waters of the ice cold stream. The young mom and I formed a lifelong connection that day.

Years pass.

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I had been scammed on the interNET. (Funny, I would later describe the feeling —-like I was caught in a NET underwater drowning but never actually drowning, to my therapist, regarding this time). I had met in the net, a kind and most attentive member of my family tree. He had seen me appear in his family matches on ancestry DNA. Little by little, I become friends with him, he was a cousin, and an older person to look up to and chat with. Unfortunately he was person who eventually tore my entire NAIVE heart to pieces as I slowly came to realize he was in fact a wolf in sheep’s clothing. I’m not making this up and neither is Grimm’s fairy tales. The wolf exists!!In fact, it’s worse worse worse than I can even explain! This experience is why I am now forever kindred spirits with Jemima Puddle Duck. I guess she is (WAS) my “spirit animal.” Also, in her case it was a Fox. Sometimes they are also spiders or snakes. On the outside though they look like regular old nice people/sheep.

Anyway, I had to block this person from all my online accounts.

Months pass.

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For a time, I was understandably hyper vigilant about social media and I came to notice a new name pop up on my instagram—- an account which kept visiting my stories. I could see that they were looking at everything I posted. I got upset and confronted this person, certain it was the abuser from my past using an alias.

Days pass.

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I finally got the truth out of that person and was totally shocked to discover it was someone the young mom from the stream knew. So I reached out to her for clarification. In this way, she found out about my very personal and private battle with a toxic family member. In turn, I also discovered that she was recovering from abuse, too. Sadly, most of us are. Anyway, we decided to get together for a visit. During that visit, she gave me the name of her therapist and told me to call her. I was very hesitant about therapy because I had tried it before and it was not helpful and in fact made me feel worse. But I took another leap of faith. (It was my one millionth leap of faith). I reluctantly and unenergetically leaped myself into contact with the therapist. It was scary. I had no hope. Not even a shred. I was just doing what my friend gently suggested.

I’ll never forget where I was when I had my first phone consultation with her (my friend’s therapist). It was springtime and I was standing in the green grass down by the chicken coop wandering around sobbing through her questions and trying to articulate the best I could through the hot heart aching pain of uttering words and communicating and indescribable almost impossible to bear/bare story. My naked soul. As vulnerable as nakedness typically is for us non-nudists.

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(((As an aside, I am a highly sensitive person.)) what’s that, you ask?

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Phone consultation, con’t……

The interview of sorts came to a conclusion. I waited for what she would tell me to do next. And then…..I was crushed and stunned when I heard the words, “I can’t help you.”

Now, mind you, she didn’t mean those words THAT WAY. She DID briskly continue on to clarify, “……you have serious emotional trauma and I am not qualified enough for what you need but I will send you names of people trained to handle trauma.”

(This was the first time someone told me I had trauma and it was VERY validating, up to this point I blamed myself for everything and all the emotions, I was deeply planted in my belief that something was wrong with me.)

I got off the phone in shock, no longer crying but shocked into that almost blissful state of numbness. I did promptly receive the Email of Names but a numb person with the words “she can’t help me” on repeat is working at a disadvantage. It took more time to pass to get to the point where I could make my ……

……..One Millionth and One-more- leap- of faith.

One more email, one more phone call, a scheduled first appointment, a 50 minute trip down the highway, and a journey that I came to enjoy on a weekly basis. Eventually the drive would come to include a ritual stop along the way for the hands-down best cup of matcha I have been able to find in these parts.

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There so much more I could say, but that, my darling, is how I was led by God to the healing place, to Emilie and her little magic room. I looked and she was holding the keys to my heart.

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Remember,

“You can be sure that God will take care of everything you need, His generosity exceeding even yours in the glory that pours from Jesus.”

“The simple truth is that if you had a mere kernel of faith, a poppy seed, say, you could tell this mountain, ‘Move!’ and it would move. There is nothing you wouldn’t be able to tackle.”

“God knows how to rescue the godly from evil trials.”

“With God, one day is as good as a thousand years, a thousand years as a day.”

*****

Comments are welcomed & moderated and you can also

email me at goodtobehome76@gmail.com

Love, Shanda