Time needed: 13 minutes
Watch Now!Hear how a wild dream I had featuring Madonna totally brought about an ah ha moment! Here's to imagination! https://youtu.be/c9slBXHTstQ |
May 8, 2020
Let's talk about changing states..
May 1, 2020
Healing isn't possible...
"But Rachel, I've tried everything - how can I believe that this is going to be any different? I just don't know if healing is possible."
This is one of the most common questions/sentiments I get from folks when we first meet to explore working together - and Siobhan (who you'll meet in a moment) was no exception to that rule.
And I get it!
One of the main reasons why the Beyond Surviving program even exists is because I found myself scrambling, trying everything to heal, and repeatedly hitting dead ends. The people trying to help me meant well, but they just really didn't have the answers I was looking for, and I was left feeling truly afraid that healing wasn't possible and that I was just going to be stuck the way I was.
So I set out to answer the question, "How do I actually heal from sexual abuse?"
And ya know what - I did heal!
When I began to take everything I had learned and done that had made a difference in my own life and form it into the Beyond Surviving program, I was 100% clear that whatever I did - it had to make a very real difference and lead to change that lasts.
To make sure that happens, I follow up with all of my graduates regularly and continue to tweak and adjust the program based on their feedback.
To my great joy, I recently reconnected with Siobhan who graduated in 2017. It's amazing to see how much her life has changed in these past 3 years and how the work we did together has continued to play a part in that.
It's her story and the many others like hers that keep me coming back day after day to go on this journey with men and women who are tired of wasting their time, money, and energy on things that don't actually make a difference.
I can say with confidence that the Beyond Surviving program is not a flash in the pan, but leads to real transformation - and I'm super proud of that!
If you're feeling frustrated and beginning to despair that nothing is ever going to help, I want you to listen to my chat with Siobhan and to be encouraged. While it takes commitment, consistency, and mentorship...
Real change isn't a pipe dream. I promise.
To change that lasts,
Beyond Surviving Graduate, Siobhan, and I talk about how life has been since she graduated in 2017!
Watch this video to learn how to get out of your own way and stop sabotaging your healing.
Read how you can hit the reset button for your brain to activate lasting healing and transformation!
How would your life be different if you took a leap of faith today?
BOOK OF THE MONTH
The latest research from neuroscience and psychotherapy has shown we can rewire the brain to facilitate trauma recovery.
Trauma Treatment Toolbox teaches clinicians how to take that brain-based approach to trauma therapy, showing how to effectively heal clients' brain with straightforward, easy-to-implement treatment techniques. Each tool includes a short list of post trauma symptoms, relevant research, application, and clinician tips on how to complete the exercise.
- Trauma treatment roadmap, based on neuroscience
- Poses and movement-based techniques
- Breathing and body-based scripts
- Cognitive tools
- Inspiring new strategies
- Psychoeducational handouts for clients
Even if you aren't a clinician, I highly recommend this book for expanding your own toolkit!
With Joy as Your Copilot, you can finally make building your successful business the life-affirming adventure of your dreams!
During this time of uncertainty and stress, it has never been more important to cultivate joy. As Gabby Bernstein says “Great change in the world cannot come from our hopelessness, it must come from our inspiration and joy.”
Learn More & Register Here
This is one of the most common questions/sentiments I get from folks when we first meet to explore working together - and Siobhan (who you'll meet in a moment) was no exception to that rule.
And I get it!
One of the main reasons why the Beyond Surviving program even exists is because I found myself scrambling, trying everything to heal, and repeatedly hitting dead ends. The people trying to help me meant well, but they just really didn't have the answers I was looking for, and I was left feeling truly afraid that healing wasn't possible and that I was just going to be stuck the way I was.
So I set out to answer the question, "How do I actually heal from sexual abuse?"
And ya know what - I did heal!
When I began to take everything I had learned and done that had made a difference in my own life and form it into the Beyond Surviving program, I was 100% clear that whatever I did - it had to make a very real difference and lead to change that lasts.
To make sure that happens, I follow up with all of my graduates regularly and continue to tweak and adjust the program based on their feedback.
To my great joy, I recently reconnected with Siobhan who graduated in 2017. It's amazing to see how much her life has changed in these past 3 years and how the work we did together has continued to play a part in that.
It's her story and the many others like hers that keep me coming back day after day to go on this journey with men and women who are tired of wasting their time, money, and energy on things that don't actually make a difference.
I can say with confidence that the Beyond Surviving program is not a flash in the pan, but leads to real transformation - and I'm super proud of that!
If you're feeling frustrated and beginning to despair that nothing is ever going to help, I want you to listen to my chat with Siobhan and to be encouraged. While it takes commitment, consistency, and mentorship...
Real change isn't a pipe dream. I promise.
To change that lasts,
Beyond Surviving Graduate, Siobhan, and I talk about how life has been since she graduated in 2017!
P.S. I'm not really that pale #lightinggoals
If you're ready to make a change that lasts, go here to
Watch this video to learn how to get out of your own way and stop sabotaging your healing.Read how you can hit the reset button for your brain to activate lasting healing and transformation!
How would your life be different if you took a leap of faith today?BOOK OF THE MONTH
Trauma Treatment Toolbox teaches clinicians how to take that brain-based approach to trauma therapy, showing how to effectively heal clients' brain with straightforward, easy-to-implement treatment techniques. Each tool includes a short list of post trauma symptoms, relevant research, application, and clinician tips on how to complete the exercise.
- Trauma treatment roadmap, based on neuroscience
- Poses and movement-based techniques
- Breathing and body-based scripts
- Cognitive tools
- Inspiring new strategies
- Psychoeducational handouts for clients
Even if you aren't a clinician, I highly recommend this book for expanding your own toolkit!
UPCOMING EVENTS
Calling all Perfectionists!!!
Calling all Perfectionists!!!
“Joy Is My Copilot: The Burned Out Perfectionist’s Guide to Joy, Success, and Freedom in your Heart-Centered Business” is a FREE video course that will help you create a successful business that is filled with joy, abundance, and love being offered by my dear friend and colleague Ivy LaClair - you do not want to miss out on this opportunity to learn from this amazing woman.
Her course will help you (even if you aren't a business owner):
Her course will help you (even if you aren't a business owner):
- Learn the New Rules of success, achievement, & productivity, and let go of old beliefs and strategies that no longer serve you.
- Have more energy and time to focus on intentional and meaningful business goals.
- Increase your impact and financial prosperity while having fun along the way.
- Feel more confident in your decisions and ability to celebrate the wins.
With Joy as Your Copilot, you can finally make building your successful business the life-affirming adventure of your dreams!
During this time of uncertainty and stress, it has never been more important to cultivate joy. As Gabby Bernstein says “Great change in the world cannot come from our hopelessness, it must come from our inspiration and joy.”
May: Trust & Intimacy
In this month's group meeting, we will talk about trust and mistrust, how our intimacy in friendships and other relationships is impacted by abuse, and what we can do to trust more - in ourselves, others, and the world.
Learn More & Register HereApril 15, 2020
Girl Disrupted
This month's submission is from Lauren Poper, a survivor and writer, who felt called to share her story.... Check out her story below.
---
Girl Disrupted
It is August, 2018, the year I finally acknowledge the enormity of my mother's betrayal. It is August, 2018. I allow myself to sob sometimes, to grieve. There is so much.
I was 16 when the revelation came, straight from the perpetrator. In a hand-wringing confession that was actually a spectacular bid for face-saving, my stepfather told my mother of his regular nighttime excursions to her daughter's bed. He tearfully admitted to sexually “molesting” me. Did he tell her the details? I don't know. Did he tell her that I never said a word or made a sound or even looked at him? Did he tell her how brave I was in my silent refusal to ever participate, of my closed lips, fingers tight fisted, fiercely, silently denying him. Instead I lay still and mute, existing in a black void until he was gone. Molest - a curiously benign sounding word for depravity. Naturally, in my vulnerability, in my terror, I argued against seeking help, legal or psychological. I didn't want to think about it, let alone talk to a stranger about the assaults. What I really wanted was for the ground to open and swallow me whole. My mother readily acquiesced, still to this day pointing to my reluctance, my outright refusal, as a legitimate reason for not getting me any help. This despite some extremely relevant facts. The assault wasn't a one-off. It was more than one night, effectively every week, every month, every year for nearly a decade. My perpetrator was allowed, after a brief 6-month separation, to return to the bosom of the family, to his positions of husband and father. The sexual assaults had consumed nearly half of my entire life. My mother remained married to my perpetrator for another 15 years, until he chose to take his leave, giving him ready access to my broken soul and battered mind. No one, save a literal handful of people, knew the truth. Everyone assumed the 6-month separation my parents endured was the result of infidelity on his part. And how my mother bravely bore her humiliation. All the while letting me know she was bearing this shame to protect me, for me – read, because of me. By all outward appearances, my amazing parents had been able to save their marriage, save The Family. In the meantime, I seemed to be a troubled teen, one without any apparent reason, one who was slowly, brutally breaking her parents' hearts. By my junior year I was a raging bulimic, stealing diet pills and laxatives. I was tanking classes, even my favorite and most important classes, writing to a friend that I wanted to die. I experimented quite dramatically and publicly with alcohol. I didn't appreciate the loss of control. But I did like the numb I felt, it made me feel light.
For my subsequently developed eating disorder, help, again, was not sought. I was lectured, punished, blamed and shamed. When I once lost 13 pounds in 14 days after reaching my goal of a size 7 no one seemed to notice, not even my mother. I was also lectured, punished, blamed and shamed for any other “inappropriate”, reactionary, acting-out behaviors I might display. Behaviors like going to parties where there was alcohol and marijuana. The, predictably, exact type of risk-taking behavior that led to a gang rape when I was 19. A rape where pictures were taken and shared in very public places. This was pre-internet and cell phones, but strangers saw these pictures anyway. And three towns away, a young girl who knew my face but not me, called a grown-up, who called someone else, who called my parents out of concern for my very compromised welfare. It turns out, they were more embarrassed than anything, more hush than concern. Filled with terror and self-loathing, I stayed away from home for 3 nights. I was afraid of what would come next. On the 3rd day I called. My mother answered. I told her I had been raped. At a party. Did I tell her there were 4 boys? I don't remember. I had been drinking. She said she knew. And at that moment I knew how this would go. That I was right to be sobbing my sorries into the phone. That everyone's main concern was where I had been and what I had been doing. I knew I bore the weight of my own responsibility, my own culpability in the situation. I wonder now, why was no one concerned about me? About what had been done to me? Taken from me. Why didn't my mother call the police when I went missing? I had come home late, occasionally arriving in the early morning hours. I never did not come home. Why, when she heard of my rape, didn't my mother move heaven and earth to find me?
And so, with the rape, I was “fine”. I was angry. I was defiant. I was mostly terrified, consumed by fear. I was not going to talk to the police. And I wasn't encouraged to do anything other, even though I knew the names of my rapists and had a credible witness. I was 19 years old. My mother contended and excused herself by pointing out I was an adult making her own decisions. Except I wasn't. I was dying. I was de-compensating. I was losing jobs. I was being erratic. I was screwing up all over the place. So much of my childhood and young-adult life is a blur. I spent as much time as I could curled up tightly in a ball deep inside myself. Only reacting all the time. Only connecting superficially with people because that's all I could handle. Although, you wouldn't think that from their descriptions of, and feelings for me. I was that convincing.
My mother told me that family members were enjoying my downfall as responsible, obedient daughter. They felt we were getting our due comeuppance for me having been such an in-your-face model child. They knew it was too good to be true. And oh how she selflessly bore the shame, or so everyone thought, all the while making sure that I was sure, that yes, I was The Problem and she the long-suffering Mother.
Help came at last in the form of a mental health hospitalization. Where I learned self-harm and how very, very easy killing myself would be. Upon release, and after a very nearly successful attempt, I was returned to the hospital, where I was further schooled in not trusting. Whole chapters can be written about those 60 some-odd days. Where the focus was not on safety and stabilization but on my bad behavior, my bad decision making and my disruption of the family.
Let's talk about disruption. My entire childhood was disrupted. My physical development was disrupted. My mental development was disrupted. My emotional development was disrupted. My social development was disrupted. I was a Girl Disrupted.
I remember back to times my mother preached about the negative psychological impacts of divorce on children. She was always willing to recognize that harm, even as it specifically related to me and her. There has never been that acknowledgment of the massive, long-lasting harm and crimes that were committed against me. There was, "Get your act together!" There was, "What is wrong with you?" There was, "You're so angry! You need to get help!"
There is, "That was 30 years ago!" There is still white washing, excusing and gas lighting. There is continued scape-goating. There is no acknowledgment of this huge, metastasizing tumor I have been carrying on my own.
It is August, 2018. The year I first flirted with the idea that my mother must have been, on some level, aware of what was going on.
It is August, 2018. The year I heard the words, "She knew. She definitely knew", from my sister's lips.
It is August, 2018. It is over 40 years since my nightmare began.
It is August, 2018. The year I finally acknowledge the enormity of my mother's betrayal.
It is Today. I allow myself to sob sometimes, to grieve. There is SO MUCH.
---
---
Girl Disrupted
It is August, 2018, the year I finally acknowledge the enormity of my mother's betrayal. It is August, 2018. I allow myself to sob sometimes, to grieve. There is so much.
For my subsequently developed eating disorder, help, again, was not sought. I was lectured, punished, blamed and shamed. When I once lost 13 pounds in 14 days after reaching my goal of a size 7 no one seemed to notice, not even my mother. I was also lectured, punished, blamed and shamed for any other “inappropriate”, reactionary, acting-out behaviors I might display. Behaviors like going to parties where there was alcohol and marijuana. The, predictably, exact type of risk-taking behavior that led to a gang rape when I was 19. A rape where pictures were taken and shared in very public places. This was pre-internet and cell phones, but strangers saw these pictures anyway. And three towns away, a young girl who knew my face but not me, called a grown-up, who called someone else, who called my parents out of concern for my very compromised welfare. It turns out, they were more embarrassed than anything, more hush than concern. Filled with terror and self-loathing, I stayed away from home for 3 nights. I was afraid of what would come next. On the 3rd day I called. My mother answered. I told her I had been raped. At a party. Did I tell her there were 4 boys? I don't remember. I had been drinking. She said she knew. And at that moment I knew how this would go. That I was right to be sobbing my sorries into the phone. That everyone's main concern was where I had been and what I had been doing. I knew I bore the weight of my own responsibility, my own culpability in the situation. I wonder now, why was no one concerned about me? About what had been done to me? Taken from me. Why didn't my mother call the police when I went missing? I had come home late, occasionally arriving in the early morning hours. I never did not come home. Why, when she heard of my rape, didn't my mother move heaven and earth to find me?
And so, with the rape, I was “fine”. I was angry. I was defiant. I was mostly terrified, consumed by fear. I was not going to talk to the police. And I wasn't encouraged to do anything other, even though I knew the names of my rapists and had a credible witness. I was 19 years old. My mother contended and excused herself by pointing out I was an adult making her own decisions. Except I wasn't. I was dying. I was de-compensating. I was losing jobs. I was being erratic. I was screwing up all over the place. So much of my childhood and young-adult life is a blur. I spent as much time as I could curled up tightly in a ball deep inside myself. Only reacting all the time. Only connecting superficially with people because that's all I could handle. Although, you wouldn't think that from their descriptions of, and feelings for me. I was that convincing.
My mother told me that family members were enjoying my downfall as responsible, obedient daughter. They felt we were getting our due comeuppance for me having been such an in-your-face model child. They knew it was too good to be true. And oh how she selflessly bore the shame, or so everyone thought, all the while making sure that I was sure, that yes, I was The Problem and she the long-suffering Mother.
Help came at last in the form of a mental health hospitalization. Where I learned self-harm and how very, very easy killing myself would be. Upon release, and after a very nearly successful attempt, I was returned to the hospital, where I was further schooled in not trusting. Whole chapters can be written about those 60 some-odd days. Where the focus was not on safety and stabilization but on my bad behavior, my bad decision making and my disruption of the family.
Let's talk about disruption. My entire childhood was disrupted. My physical development was disrupted. My mental development was disrupted. My emotional development was disrupted. My social development was disrupted. I was a Girl Disrupted.
I remember back to times my mother preached about the negative psychological impacts of divorce on children. She was always willing to recognize that harm, even as it specifically related to me and her. There has never been that acknowledgment of the massive, long-lasting harm and crimes that were committed against me. There was, "Get your act together!" There was, "What is wrong with you?" There was, "You're so angry! You need to get help!"
There is, "That was 30 years ago!" There is still white washing, excusing and gas lighting. There is continued scape-goating. There is no acknowledgment of this huge, metastasizing tumor I have been carrying on my own.
It is August, 2018. The year I first flirted with the idea that my mother must have been, on some level, aware of what was going on.
It is August, 2018. The year I heard the words, "She knew. She definitely knew", from my sister's lips.
It is August, 2018. It is over 40 years since my nightmare began.
It is August, 2018. The year I finally acknowledge the enormity of my mother's betrayal.
It is Today. I allow myself to sob sometimes, to grieve. There is SO MUCH.
---
April 11, 2020
My Favorite How to Keep Your Shit Together During a Pandemic Resources
For me, during times like this, saying less and offering more feels like the right thing to do.
So, in that spirit, here are the resources I've found so far for keeping my shit together and I hope they will help you too!
DISCLAIMER: Losing your shit during this time is normal and to be expected and actually really important (I am in the same boat!) - so think of these resources as ways to regroup, not ways to keep yourself 100% contained 24/7!
I'll continue to update this post as I find other resources, so bookmark it and come back every now and then to see what's new!
The Second Level of Hope
Neuroscience Says Listening to This Song Reduces Anxiety by Up to 65%
3 Ways to Claim Stress & Anxiety in Uncertain Times
Why You Should Ignore All That Coronavirus-Inspired Productivity Pressure
Prepare for the Ultimate Gaslighting
Some Good News with John Krasinski
Good News Network
Dance Church
Healing from Sexual Abuse Facebook Group
And here's a quote that is bringing me some joy and solace these days:
"When we least expect it, life sets us a challenge to test our courage and willingness to change; at such a moment, there is no point in pretending that nothing has happened or in saying that we are not yet ready. The challenge will not wait. Life does not look back." -Paulo Coelho
Here's to holding firm to love, grace, compassion, strength, courage, and wisdom even as the current circumstances test us, stretch us, and perhaps in some unexpected ways, heal us.
So, in that spirit, here are the resources I've found so far for keeping my shit together and I hope they will help you too!DISCLAIMER: Losing your shit during this time is normal and to be expected and actually really important (I am in the same boat!) - so think of these resources as ways to regroup, not ways to keep yourself 100% contained 24/7!
I'll continue to update this post as I find other resources, so bookmark it and come back every now and then to see what's new!
The Second Level of Hope
Neuroscience Says Listening to This Song Reduces Anxiety by Up to 65%
3 Ways to Claim Stress & Anxiety in Uncertain Times
Why You Should Ignore All That Coronavirus-Inspired Productivity Pressure
Prepare for the Ultimate Gaslighting
Some Good News with John Krasinski
Good News Network
Dance Church
Healing from Sexual Abuse Facebook Group
And here's a quote that is bringing me some joy and solace these days:
"When we least expect it, life sets us a challenge to test our courage and willingness to change; at such a moment, there is no point in pretending that nothing has happened or in saying that we are not yet ready. The challenge will not wait. Life does not look back." -Paulo Coelho
Here's to holding firm to love, grace, compassion, strength, courage, and wisdom even as the current circumstances test us, stretch us, and perhaps in some unexpected ways, heal us.
April 10, 2020
Let's talk about finding balance in our lives..
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