Stumbling Upon An Old Art Piece: The Ebb and Flow of Healing From Past Trauma

While packing up all of my things to move to a new apartment, I had an opportunity to sort through things that, over time, I’d forgotten about. I was flipping through an old sketchbook and I found a painting paired with a poem from a couple of years back.

And I remember

the first time my necklines,

Became blurred lines,

and then borderlines

became crossed lines,

and now every time I sigh

I

Hear the cries

over guidelines

that should have been redefined.

And now every time I breathe

I

Wonder if my necklines

can be rectified.

As I read this poem, I was flooded with emotions. Today, years ago, I was sexually assaulted, and this poem was something I wrote in an attempt to make sense of the guilt, pain, and confusion that I’ve battled ever since my assault.

Over the years, through the help of a strong support system, I rediscovered what love, intimacy, and joy could look like in my life. I learned that I could in fact rectify my body, my boundaries, my purity, my strength, and my sexuality. However, as I read my old fears out loud to myself I couldn’t help but feel this nervous tingle in my stomach. “What if I never truly healed from this?”

You see, I’ve always strived to remain open about the things that I’ve struggled hoping that my story could in some way help someone else. But as this day approached, I felt a long-forgotten heaviness in my chest causing me to clam up any time I tried to talk about the guilt I was feeling with friends. I was so confused.

So, looking down at my sketchbook, I started to meditate on how the road to redemption, while full of moments on the mountaintop, has moments spent in the valley.

Today, even though I didn’t quite feel ready, I reread the poem again. I was surrounded with peace and grace; I softly whispered to myself,

“You have been redeemed, you have freedom from this”.

I used to feel like I could never experience rectification for the things I had gone through. I believed that every single day, I would spend meditating on what had happened to me. That any time I was lying next to a partner, I would look into their eyes and see his face looking back at me. And while some days, this still feels like the case, most days I feel more strength, healing, peace, self-love, and forgiveness than I ever imagined possible.

Healing can be painful. Healing is a process. Healing can sometimes feel endless. Healing can be difficult. Not every day is easy, and in fact, most days aren’t.

But healing is beautiful, healing is possible, and healing will come.

If you feel like you’re in the valley, just remember that not all of your journey will be spent there. That every hard season eventually passes. That our doubts and worries and hesitations, while very real, aren’t always rooted in truth. And while you may not always feel like you’re making process, you are.

You are moving forward. You are climbing the mountain. You will reach the top. This is just the beginning, you are so worth loving, and redemption is at your fingertips.

Excerpt from the debut chapbook “Who I Am Today” by Julianna A. Leverette.

“Who I Am Today” holds a decade of work, honoring the journey of life; from leaving adolescence and childhood homes behind to searching for a place in the world, from navigating shadow work to healing ones deepest hurts, from releasing external expectations to deciding for yourself who exactly it is that you want to be. This poetry collection navigates past loves and lives, the hurdles of mental illness and existential dread, and creating peace with yourself, your experiences, and your choices, and believing that truly, it is well, through the ebb and flow.