Thank You, Survival Brain; But it’s Time I Thrive

When I receive feedback from someone, telling me they found comfort in my words or the message I was trying to convey resonated with them, I am filled with immeasurable joy. Because forming those connections, helping others feel less alone in their struggles and in some small way helping them on their own journey is why I write. 

A friend, who is grappling with a significant life hurdle, yet every day choosing to see the good in her situation, sent me a message after reading my last post. She let me know that she was following my blog and that it was refreshing to see someone growing, “introspectively looking at things but like really being thankful for it and appreciating it,” she wrote. 

Her words touched my heart, but as I read them, a thought popped into my head: I still have so much to learn. I will never stop growing.

Each and every day, a new lesson is waiting for me. Sometimes, that lesson is clear, the message is received, and I spend my day floating in a blissful state of awareness. Other times, I get sucked into the contrast of life, and I’m once again left disconnected from my heart and thrust into my mind, my consciousness fighting to break through the spaces of my rumination. 

But after catching myself sliding down the rabbit hole of swirling thoughts, I come back to my breath, and I find myself in the role of the observer. And as long as I keep my attention on that perch, the fog lifts, my worries fade away, and I’m able to move forward with my day. 

Every. Single. Time. No matter how often the mind wanders, peace is waiting for you. You just have to identify with the space between your thoughts and not the thoughts themselves.

So why does something so simple, seem to be so difficult?

Because we’re human.

We each have our own history, our own traumas. We have different backgrounds, different ways of looking at the world, all shaped by a combination of the environment we were raised in and the DNA running through our veins. 

We’re conditioned to problem solve, to control, to ensure our survival. And if you’ve spent your life living in survival mode, constantly looking over your shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop, seeing confirmation after confirmation of just how cruel this world can be, breaking yourself out of that mindset is frankly, fucking hard.

Hard, but not impossible.

I’m not going to sit here and pretend that I’ve had a hard life. I haven’t. I grew up in a middle-class family, with two parents who adored me. I never went hungry, always had a place to sleep, I had new clothes, toys, electronics. I got good grades, participated in any activity I wanted to, had a good group of friends; it was a childhood that, on its surface, was wholesome and normal. 

And for the most part, it was. But life is more complex than that.

At eight years old, I was sexually abused by my neighbor, who was hired to help tutor me in math. It was the one subject I struggled with, and since she was a former teacher, a stay-at-home Mom, and lived directly across the culdesac from us, it was logical that she help me with the subject.

I remember so vividly leaving her house, with my eyes focused on the front door to my family’s home, knowing that when I closed my hand around the doorknob, I would arrive in a space filled with everything and everyone that made me feel safe.

And when I shut that door behind me, I would forget it all happened, shifting my reality to one that didn’t involve the confusion, shame and pain I was feeling inside. But while I could repress what was happening to me, the emotions still remained, and over the next 15 years, that repression manifested in other ways; self-harm, eating disorders, a suicide attempt, destructive behaviors, toxic relationships, alcohol dependency, fatigue, chronic pain, living in a consistent state of survival brain.

I was 23 when the memories of what had transpired over the course of those few months in third grade came flooding back to me. And I was 24 when I watched her get sentenced to 15 years in prison. 

It’s been four years since that night my carefully constructed reality was shattered. And in those few years, my bubble of reality has been popped a few more times. I got divorced, left a cult, recognized ancestral trauma and am still addressing a general lack of boundaries. Yet, all of those moments forced me to shift my outlook and identify what I truly want my life to look like. 

I share all of that to say, I know what it’s like to live in survival mode. I understand the familiar push and pull between hurt from the past and the fear of what is waiting in the future. 

But I promise you, the remedy to that tug-of-war lives in the present. That key to your best life, that sweet, sweet feeling of relief and peace, is already inside of you, and it’s always waiting for you right here, right where you are, wherever you are, right now. 

The past does not define us, but it does help shape us into the person we are at this moment in time. It’s my goal to always search for the good in every situation, and in my life, I believe that everything has happened for a reason. While I wish I hadn’t been abused, that my innocence wasn’t taken away at such a young age, I’m thankful for that strong and resilient little eight-year-old who did what she needed to do to survive. 

In her dissociation, she focused on the love and happiness waiting for her at home. In her repression, she chose the present moment.

I wasn’t expecting to share this part of my story today. It’s not often that I think or talk about this part of my life anymore as I’ve done a lot of work to move past it. But, there are moments when that old conditioning is activated, and I get triggered. In fact, by typing this out and putting myself in that headspace, I could feel the familiar pulls of trauma, and I had to remind myself to use the tools I so often talk about.

As I meditated on what it means to heal and grow in the present moment, the words poured out of me. Working to break free of living in my survival brain has been a process, and it’s one I'm committed to continuing. 

So, I hope this message reaches someone who needs it, and I hope you know there’s a beautiful road ahead of you.

It’s on that road that I’m continuing to travel, learning new lessons, holding hope for the future while living in the present. 

And at the end of the day, that’s what we’re all called to do.