The Secret to Aging Great-fully

Once upon a time I was a typical 12-year-old. And then I wasn’t.

For anyone who has suffered a devastating ordeal, there is a clear before and after. Trauma does terrible things to the body, mind and spirit. It marks you for life.

Although I wrote about this in “Finding More on the Mat,” I don’t go on and on about it for one main reason: what happened doesn’t define me. It is not who I am, nor is it what I am. It is just something that happened. For me, it means I am trying to age not just gracefully, but gratefully.

So now, on to the thing that happened. I was in a school hallway looking for a snack. Then a group of boys showed up. The leader bent my arm behind my back, tore my rotator cuff and broke my shoulder blade. He dragged me to a bathroom where he threw me down, grabbed a broom and use your nastiest imagination, because this was much worse. When he was done, he told the other boys, “Your turn.” 

Forgiveness Takes Back your Power

Children are quicker to forgive than adults; it’s a fact. On the playground, if one child takes another’s toy, they are often forgiven and everyone moves on. A significant factor for aging well may have to do with how we let things go, or let things be. Time may not help.

It’s natural that over time we experience our share of hurt, betrayal, lies, misadventures, injustice, injury and human suffering that was not always our fault. But if we’re going to thrive, we have to make peace with this stuff. We absolutely must.

The truth about that very bad day in my life – and this is the same for many victims of horrendous crimes – is that at the moment it happened, I wasn’t truly there. I left my body.  When it was over, I decided almost immediately I would move on. There is no explaining it. The girl on the floor was the before, and now I am living in the after. I was determined that my revenge would be to live well and thrive.

Looking back, my ability to put this aside may well have been because I was a child. Of course there are lingering vestiges, and I am left with pain in my shoulder and upper back. But I did the work in physical and psychological therapy, and moved on.

Owning it

I don’t want to suggest that I am an expert at letting things go. While I could deal with this incident, there are many other slights I struggle to forgive. Betrayal by fellow yogis, family and girlfriends is hard to own and forgive.

So how to begin?

Forgiveness May Not Look Like Hearts and Flowers

Let me be clear: I do not know if any of this will work for you. I only know what worked for me. I do the best I can, and then when I’m able, I do better.

At first, when I am ready to deal with pain and injustice, I try to make sense of what happened in a deep, internal way. I use “talk therapy,” which means I talk ad nauseam to my friends until they tell me to shut up.

I do not ever use social media. When we replay our trauma on Instagram it’s like a sugar high. We get sympathy and “likes,” but then that leaves you hungry for more so you keep repeating and reliving the trauma to feed the addiction.

The hard work of adulting almost never gets a “like.”

Owning it means you take responsibility for your recovery. You are no longer a victim of what happened. You are now in the driver’s seat to fix it. That’s what healed me.

Consider this: What if you took full responsibility for what happened in your life, including the stuff that was not your fault? What if you owned all of it, 100%, and therefore it was yours alone to fix? Would that change how you approach the task?

Let it Go, or Let it Be

I wouldn’t say that the way I feel toward my rapist is forgiving. I did not “let it go,” because there is no condoning what was done. We don’t have to be Mother Teresa and forgive abusers. That doesn’t set good boundaries.

However, I had to get to a place where I no longer felt any triggers about the terrible things that happened to me. Until then, the terrible things own us. If we do the work, we own ourselves.

Lastly, before I could pack this away, the one person I had to work hardest to forgive was myself. The truth is nobody can blame a victim, like a victim. I shouldn’t have been there. Maybe I was asking for it? That is what I’ve forgiven. I was 12; end of story.

How Do We Forgive Those Who Trespass Against Us?

It’s easy to say by rote, but to forgive those who trespass against us takes superhuman power. Especially for family. Good grief that’s a hard betrayal to overcome.

I struggle, and like the rest of us who are not saints, I soldier on. It helps to believe I am worthy of living free of the burden of anger. Forgiveness, acceptance and compassion are muscles, just like hamstrings and biceps. You have to use them to keep them strong.

I made a promise to my 12-year-old self that I would live well, so I owe myself this work. To stew about the past would only limit my present happiness.

This is what helped me.

1. I believe with all my heart that people did they best they could, at that time, with what they had. They might be mentally ill, or just unkind. It is, what it is.

2. When I forgive someone, it is for myself. Carrying around anger and resentment derails me from my mission to thrive.

3. When I feel like a victim, I climb onto a pedestal, and don’t let anyone take me down.

4. I let go of wanting apologies. Apologies make me feel justified in my pain, but that goes back to why am I harboring pain? Let go of the hurt, and you will not need an apology. I also apologize easily if I feel I might be in any way responsible for a hurt. Guess what? It’s easy, it’s painless, and it changes your karma. Done!

5. Be open. I never spoke about what happened for 40 years, then I wrote my book. People asked how could I be so candid? My response is, what took me so long? The truth really does set you free. Keeping it a secret fed it a steady diet of shame that was unhealthy.

6. I try to see things with a witness consciousness. It was just something that happened.

I continue to do this work because I promised my 12-year-old self that I would live happy and free. If we are going to thrive in our later years, we owe ourselves this chance.

Michelle Marchildon is the Yogi Muse. She is an award-winning writer and yogi. She lives a less than perfect life (despite what it sounds like here) in Denver, Colorado.

© Copyright by Michelle Berman Marchildon 2020. All rights reserved.