The Tree: A Subjective Normal

*Everything I write is from my own personal experience. I am not a medical professional or therapist. What you read is my journey*

Mental health is a subjective reality that we treat as objective. We try to get someone as close to the average line as possible through therapy and drugs that we miss out on the great opportunity to take a person for who they are and help them exist within that reality. The line should be harm to self others, and once we can help a person stay within that baseline then we should allow them to explore who they are and learn to exist in their reality not force a societal idea of normal on them. Imagine need to go to the grocery store for some ice cream -who does not like ice cream? You locked your front door and head to your car. Out of the corner of your eye you notice your neighbor standing below a tree in his yard, mostly naked, and not moving. You curiously stare and call out; he does not reply. You notice something in the yard in front of him. Concerned for your neighbor you approach and see a sign reading, “I am a tree.” What would you do? I argue that the better question is, “How does it matter?”

In that instant the only information you have is that your neighbor thinks they are a tree and that no one is being harmed. Any other inference from this is an extrapolation in predictive analysis. Your only choice here is to leave your neighbor to their own devices or impose your own perspective of normal on him by seeking professionals who will force him to be “normal”. Most, in this scenario, would justify their decision by saying they “got him help”. However, if he was harming no one and was no harm to himself, shouldn’t he be allowed to stand as a tree?

Society makes these types of judgements objective -there is a right and wrong answer- rather than subjective -what is the immediate situation. No matter how good one is at their craft predicting behavior is just that, a prediction -read that as gamble. The entirety of your life experience has told you that to think you are a tree is abnormal and should be treated because one day that “disease” might cause others harm, thus your entire response to this type of scenario is going to be subjective to your view of normal.  Your reactions are going to, in most cases, infringe on someone else’s subjective view of reality. Of course, I am talking deconstructionism, existentialism, and nihilism here -what is real? However, to have a concrete understanding of our environment we must, to a degree, deconstruct our idea of what is real or deconstruct someone else’s. Wars are fought because there is this belief that there cannot be two congruent philosophies at one time.

We have taken the subjective and made it objective. Specifically, when it comes to people -or even animals. Normal is subjective, except in extreme circumstances when it becomes objective. We must also resist the urge to impose our view of reality on another out of concern for them -which most often is really our inability to rationalize that someone else views the world different than us. To do all this requires emotional intelligence and empathy. The common thread in all my poetry is just that, empathy. It is an attempt to draw in multiple perspectives to show my own perspective. It is not right, nor normal, that I was sexually abused as a child. But that is now my reality, that is now the perspective that I see the world from. I must learn to marry that reality with a blue sky, green grass, and the touch of a gentle breeze on my face. The trick is to avoid the distraction of making sense -that is a dead-end quest. Much in life is a waste of energy to make sense of. Rather the task is for me to understand my reality.   Just as I would expect you, not to make a judgement of your treeish neighbor, but to make an earnest attempt to understand your neighbors’ behavior. Once you have done the required work to understand then you can make an objective call on the behavior. Unless, I understand why the sky is blue it is useless for me to make any judgement about the sky other than a poetic judgement about how it makes me feel -though, I would argue to make that poetic judgement of feeling I have to understand myself.

Mental health is not complicated. We complicate it. Just like an arm, or leg, or any other appendage the brain can be broken. When broken it is necessary to heal. But when it is healed it is useless to wonder why it broke and useful to learn how to operate your appendage with the new quirks. Or more simply put, after your brain heals the scars left behind are normal and are part of you. That do not make you lesser or greater than your fellow man, they make you.

Normal is subjective.

*There is a necessity to, at times, understand how something happened so that you can apply the necessary lessons to avoid future events such as the ones that harmed you. But this is entirely different than trying to learn why, as it is understanding how. Which is a healthy action to take. Only the inner workings of a person can explain why they did anything, and of course that requires a certain level of self-awareness. It is a fools errand to think “why” will heal. Healing is internal and entirely about you.

Break Equal Over

*Everything I write is from my own personal experience. I am not a medical professional or therapist. What you read is my journey*

It is July 15, and I have not updated this site in some time. Well, I have been busy with life things. Primarily getting settled into a new living situation which should afford me more creative opportunities. The place I did most of my work from over the last 365 days was about 5x5 feet and was energy sapping. It is difficult to be creative in that climate. This post is small, as it is just an update. That Tears of a Poet is back and running. By the end of the month I should have more of a schedule for posting and idea of what direction I want to take this. With everything that has happened in the last 7-months there is plenty of topics to cover and I think conversations with survivors of sexual abuse can help society navigate the many obstacles of 2020.  

Cheers,

Eric

An Hour at the Fair: Overstimulation on Steroids

*Everything I write is from my own personal experience. I am not a medical professional or therapist. What you read is my journey*

There is a wide range of research that shows victims of sexual abuse learn to see their entire environment as a threat. I recall one day at the Minnesota State Fair -I attended college not more than a 10-minute drive from the fairgrounds, or rather it is blazed in my memory. Nothing nefarious happened. In fact, it was an average fair visit for your average fair goer. However, in my mind a battle raged whereby every noise, movement, person, smell, and step was a threat. This memory plays out like a traumatic memory of my abuse: blue pants, red shirts, blurry faces, rides, noise is silenced, smells are overwhelming, and I hover above my 20-year old body watching myself twist and turn through the crowds. With $40 in my pocket I make the tough food choices and experience the fair through taste and absent any feeling. I could not even tell you what the food tasted like, or if it was good. My body was on autopilot. The entire experience a nightmare for my brain wiring that saw the entire world as a threat.

A large part of the recovery process is rewiring your brain -neuroplasticity- from viewing the world as threat. The process of which is exhausting, nearly as exhausting as existing in Defcon-4 24/7. The hard work is worth it. When you reach that moment where you look back on all the sessions all the steps forward and fully recognize growth you notice that you are no longer defined by what was done to you, but that you define who you are.

This story is brief. I don’t believe survivors need to write long exposes on their experiences for the majority to understand. In fact, if you are honest about what you experience and share moments that everyone has in their memory banks and in those memories share the different lenses through which your brain sees the world it will have the effect of encouraging empathy. And empathy is what we need. If those who have not experienced sexual abuse understand the devastating affects of trauma on victims they will work that much harder to protect all of society and seek justice for those

Safety: The World is a Dangerous Place For the Victim of Sexual Abuse

*Everything I write is from my own personal experience. I am not a medical professional or therapist. What you read is my journey*

“What are some happy memories of childhood?” There were a few seconds of silence from me when this question was asked in a therapy session. Looking to my left I poured through my memories to see if there was a happy memory. Nothing. I replayed the memories a second time, nothing. I chuckled out loud and smiled -a defense mechanism. “I don’t have any.”

A few more sessions would help unveil a few of those happy memories. Though, at the time of writing this I cannot easily recall these memories -it takes incredible effort and guidance to recall most happy memories. Perhaps these inconsistencies are why I have a fascination with neuroscience: “How can I so vividly remember the terrifying moments of sexual abuse and not the moments of happiness?” On a physiological level the answer is beginning to come clearer for neuroscience: decreased white matter. Or more appropriately, lack of connection inside the brain. Yet, my experience tells me that this does not explain it all.

When I was first abused at the age of 5, the best I could do to protect myself was to view everything and everyone as danger. At the age of 5 the entire world became dangerous. The shape of my whole being was to protect myself from these dangers. How do you truly have time for happy moments?  Abuse, whether it be physical, emotional, or sexual, destroys a person’s safety -especially when the victim is a child. Think back to when you were a child and you hurt yourself, one of your parents comforted you and helped you feel safe again. After the abuse, I lay in the fetal position holding my baby blanket and sucking my thumb: no one came to comfort or provide safety for me. Obviously, those do not compare, but nothing can compare my childhood with most peoples. To understand what a victim of childhood sexual abuse is recovering from you must learn to recognize the key events in your own childhood that encoded safety into your view of the world. And you must understand that basic needs that were met for you were not met for that child -even with the world’s best parents, after abuse, the world is a dangerous place.

My recovery then has been learning to appropriately recognize danger and safety. A lot of that is about building up the stamina to exist in moments that are not inherently dangerous, but feel dangerous, and allowing myself to explore them and learn that they are safe. In my sessions I have often returned to the concept that I didn’t get to learn to view the world in a healthy way like children are supposed to and now I must return to that as an adult and do this work.

Most men who seek to recover from sexual abuse wait much longer than I did -my first therapy session was when I was 19. A lot of this is because society has not made it a safe place for men to talk about abuse -especially if the perpetuator was female. Society needs to learn about abuse and the effects it has on the victim. There are troves of information and stories out there for anyone to learn from. Often, it is the victims that use these materials. I encourage you, dear reader, to learn about sexual abuse. You do not know who you may be interacting with that doesn’t feel safe and will need an understanding friend when they begin to rewire their worldview.

My Vision

*Everything I write is from my own personal experience. I am not a medical professional or therapist. What you read is my journey*

Imagine you attended a wedding. You are one of the 200 guests the bride and groom invited. As you sit in the church pew you look out at the wedding party. Six groomsmen and six bridesmaids stand in beautifully formal dress. It is unlikely that you would have the thought, “1 of those bridesmaids and 1 of those groomsmen have been sexually abused.” Though, that is the fact.

I chose that image, because it is relatable and contrasts the beauty of a wedding with the ugliness of sexual trauma. I chose that image because sexual abuse is a problem that rages on with little attention, and to combat that we need to draw our attention to it. Those who have experience sexual trauma can not be the only ones who know the facts.

My vision for the platform I am building is twofold: 1. Inspire men to face their sexual trauma and 2. To give people an honest and raw view into what life is like for someone healing from sexual trauma. To be sure, these are not conversations anyone wants to have. However, these are conversations that need to be had. We must as society shine light on the darkness that hides sexual abuse. Where there is light there cannot be darkness. We cannot eradicate sexual abuse, but by educating ourselves we can reduce the number of those abused and make society safer for those who were.

I thank you for your support.

I commend you for being part of the solution.

One Voice in a Sea of Voices

“This," cried the Mayor, "is your town's darkest hour!
The time for all Whos who have blood that is red
To come to the aid of their country!" he said.
"We've GOT to make noises in greater amounts!
So, open your mouth, lad! For every voice counts!”
― Horton Hears a Who!

This blog, and podcast, is just one voice in a sea of voices.

1 in 6 men are victims of sexual abuse. The toughest part about the 1 in 6 statistic is the many men who are victims of sexual abuse that have died without confronting their abuse and healing from their trauma. They will die without telling their story. Certainly, we have lost great men, souls, and future progress because of this.

No one should go through the recovery of traumatic events alone. Yet, in our society to be a man is to ignore the inner screams of torment and forge forward. Though their vessel may be cracking under the pressure and their plight uncertain we require men to show no weakness. If they do show weakness they are instantly thought of as less-than-manly. This archaic belief has cost society dearly. This blog seeks to be one of the voices that helps spring us to a more evolved view of manliness.

I was raised ion the Fox River in a 3-bedroom 2.5 bath house (the extra toilet was in the laundry room). With 7-siblings we were an above average family. As you can see from the photos on this site as a young child I could be found with a smile on my face, a smile that hid a deep wound. A wound that I would not revisit until 2010. But I don’t want to spoil Tears of a Poet: A Selection of Poems. The last three years have been the most intense of my recovery. Through therapy and reading I have come to understand much about myself and how the trauma of my childhood sexual abuse influenced my life. I like to use a broken arm analogy to describe what this trauma does to a person:

Imagine you are driving a bike and you hit a stone, the bike flips, and your arm breaks. Immediately your parents take you to the hospital and the doctor resets you arm. Eventually you heal, but every now and then you notice a difference with your arm. Traumatic events are similar, but your brain is broken and often it remains broken for decades before healing begins. And when you are recovered, there are differences that will always remain.

With all that said, welcome to Tears of a Poet. I hope you find it a helpful resource.