Sometimes, Trauma…

In the darkness of January in the UK, the return of light and warmth can feel a long way ahead: that time where we can revisit the places our bodies love most, or wherever we feel most alive or safe.

My body certainly loves a cosy fireside or the safety of bed with a good book, but for me, being in nature and away from the populous tends to be the best bridge to my most alive self. That isn’t so easy to achieve mid-week on a January evening. However, even in my memories of these places, by consciously harnessing positive “re-experiencing”, I can find a tool for nervous system regulation and rejuvenation.

Tonight, feeling the darkness of another January night, I decided to make contact with my most “myself” Hannah. My tool in this exercise is looking at holiday pictures. Here I find myself in a “Gansie” (hand-knitted Shetland jumper) with my hiking boots on. I am happy on an island, which is itself off a small island, which is off a slightly bigger island, in the extreme North of Scotland (practically Norway!). Welcome to Fetlar. I sit, light a candle and take in as an offering this positive memory. In finding the selfie, I try to take in as much sensory recall that I can. If I focus, I can feel the compacted sand under my feet, the hat on my head, the feeling of freedom and the smell of turf and sea weed. I can also go to the bowl of stones and relics I collected, and see them again in front of my winter fire. I can picture the geography of the whole island gathered around my photographed self, in the cliffs nearby and the far off village. My eyes can do a 360 sweep behind the photograph. As I hold the stones in my hands, I feast again on the sensory details of my original gathering, activating my parasympathetic nervous system and feeling connected to the most regulated version of myself. My “mementos” have a transportation effect. Now, I am experiencing a positive feast of memory, rather than a dark gathering or negative intrusion. I feel more awake, more connected. It’s a good practice for daily life and for Trauma recovery.

Musing on this, I hear the words of a wonderful poem by Derek Walcott resonate, which I often use in my practice. Can you find the love letters and photographs to feast on your life?

Love After Love

Derek Walcott