Last year, 2012, happened to be a very good year.
In the first half of the year, I became involved in the Vagina Monologues, which was a sort of voice-challenge I gave myself. I had seen the show several times, and it had always resonated with me. But last year, I joined the cast, and it felt freeing to be part of such a wonderful group of women.
In the latter half of the year, I joined the Survivor's Theater Workshop, which also challenged me to use more of my body. It involved using different facets of expression - physical, vocal, and artistic. I got to meet other survivors, and kind of get down and dirty with all the emotions we hold on to. It was certainly a pleasure to be part of this group.
In the process, I learned to listen to my body more. Sometimes, I neglect it and I ended up getting quite sick several times during the year. But, I also have the tendency to "act" strong for the sake of others. Because I work so hard on keeping strong, I end up crumbling down at some unforeseen time because I'm not taking care of my own needs first.
This happened shortly after my first session with the Survivor's Theater Workshop. To make it on time for the 4 sessions, I had to leave work early. I managed to request Sick Time for these sessions since they were virtually theraputic sessions.
But, I didn't articulate what this was clearly enough, and my supervisor and the head of the HR department didn't realize what it was really for. The following day after the first session, I was pulled into the HR office and was basically questioned on why I was taking Sick Time for these sessions. I explained that it was a workshop for survivors of sexual violence, and that I was participating in it. For some reason, they thought that I was facilitating the workshops and abusing the Sick Time policy. But I knew that I could use it for appointment and meetings like this.
Still, that explanation didn't seem to go through. I explained again that I was attending these workshops AS a survivor of sexual violence. The HR person looked at me quizzically. I don't remember if she asked me point blank if I was a survivor, but I felt the need to explain further. So, I explained that I was molested as a child and that I was attending these workshops as a form of therapy. She suddenly seemed uncomfortable with my disclosure. But I felt that she had basically asked me to do so. I told her that it was fine because I speak about my experience a lot. She then asked me to speak with my supervisor about it so that they could both be on the same page. She asked me if it was okay for me to tell him, and I said that it was.
As I walked away from her office, I suddenly felt the tears trying to break through. I felt trapped. Where was I going to go so that I could release them? I couldn't go into our work room because all my coworkers, some of whom I trust deeply, were there and I knew I would just break down and never stop. I ran to the nearest restroom just to find them occupied. I needed to hurry. The tears were threatening a tsunami. So I ran to the next private restroom, which required me to go through the school's main office.
Once the door was locked, the sobbing arrived. I couldn't stop it. But I let myself cry for a little, but I knew that it would soon be time to greet the children at my program. The sobbing was uncontrollable. I somehow managed to get myself together to then face my supervisor.
As I walked into his office and sat down, saying that HR wanted me to talk with him about the workshops, he asked if I was facilitating the workshops or participating in them. I managed to choke out the word "participating" before once again bursting into a sobbing fit. He quickly got up to give me space, while our secretary gave me a box of tissues. I couldn't control it. Whatever it was that was pent up inside me, coupled with the fact that my participation in such a workshop was questioned, had finally knocked down the door and demanded attention.
Eventually, my co-group leader helped me collect my bearings in time to see the kids. But later that night, on the way home with my boyfriend, the tears slowly seeped out as he comforted me.
Later on, when I was telling my therapist about the experience, she helped me see that it was perhaps because their questioning caught me off guard. I don't think I've ever had anyone question me about my experience before in such a manner in such a place
The experience was jarring. Yet, it made me much more conscious of things that might trigger me. It also made me much more conscious of the fact that I need to ask for help, and that it's okay to do so. It's okay to ask for extra support, especially from people who love and care about me. I can only be strong for myself for so long sometimes, but I can't do it alone.
Honestly, I'm thankful for that.
In the first half of the year, I became involved in the Vagina Monologues, which was a sort of voice-challenge I gave myself. I had seen the show several times, and it had always resonated with me. But last year, I joined the cast, and it felt freeing to be part of such a wonderful group of women.
In the latter half of the year, I joined the Survivor's Theater Workshop, which also challenged me to use more of my body. It involved using different facets of expression - physical, vocal, and artistic. I got to meet other survivors, and kind of get down and dirty with all the emotions we hold on to. It was certainly a pleasure to be part of this group.
In the process, I learned to listen to my body more. Sometimes, I neglect it and I ended up getting quite sick several times during the year. But, I also have the tendency to "act" strong for the sake of others. Because I work so hard on keeping strong, I end up crumbling down at some unforeseen time because I'm not taking care of my own needs first.
This happened shortly after my first session with the Survivor's Theater Workshop. To make it on time for the 4 sessions, I had to leave work early. I managed to request Sick Time for these sessions since they were virtually theraputic sessions.
But, I didn't articulate what this was clearly enough, and my supervisor and the head of the HR department didn't realize what it was really for. The following day after the first session, I was pulled into the HR office and was basically questioned on why I was taking Sick Time for these sessions. I explained that it was a workshop for survivors of sexual violence, and that I was participating in it. For some reason, they thought that I was facilitating the workshops and abusing the Sick Time policy. But I knew that I could use it for appointment and meetings like this.
Still, that explanation didn't seem to go through. I explained again that I was attending these workshops AS a survivor of sexual violence. The HR person looked at me quizzically. I don't remember if she asked me point blank if I was a survivor, but I felt the need to explain further. So, I explained that I was molested as a child and that I was attending these workshops as a form of therapy. She suddenly seemed uncomfortable with my disclosure. But I felt that she had basically asked me to do so. I told her that it was fine because I speak about my experience a lot. She then asked me to speak with my supervisor about it so that they could both be on the same page. She asked me if it was okay for me to tell him, and I said that it was.
As I walked away from her office, I suddenly felt the tears trying to break through. I felt trapped. Where was I going to go so that I could release them? I couldn't go into our work room because all my coworkers, some of whom I trust deeply, were there and I knew I would just break down and never stop. I ran to the nearest restroom just to find them occupied. I needed to hurry. The tears were threatening a tsunami. So I ran to the next private restroom, which required me to go through the school's main office.
Once the door was locked, the sobbing arrived. I couldn't stop it. But I let myself cry for a little, but I knew that it would soon be time to greet the children at my program. The sobbing was uncontrollable. I somehow managed to get myself together to then face my supervisor.
As I walked into his office and sat down, saying that HR wanted me to talk with him about the workshops, he asked if I was facilitating the workshops or participating in them. I managed to choke out the word "participating" before once again bursting into a sobbing fit. He quickly got up to give me space, while our secretary gave me a box of tissues. I couldn't control it. Whatever it was that was pent up inside me, coupled with the fact that my participation in such a workshop was questioned, had finally knocked down the door and demanded attention.
Eventually, my co-group leader helped me collect my bearings in time to see the kids. But later that night, on the way home with my boyfriend, the tears slowly seeped out as he comforted me.
Later on, when I was telling my therapist about the experience, she helped me see that it was perhaps because their questioning caught me off guard. I don't think I've ever had anyone question me about my experience before in such a manner in such a place
The experience was jarring. Yet, it made me much more conscious of things that might trigger me. It also made me much more conscious of the fact that I need to ask for help, and that it's okay to do so. It's okay to ask for extra support, especially from people who love and care about me. I can only be strong for myself for so long sometimes, but I can't do it alone.
Honestly, I'm thankful for that.
