Therapy, Pizza, and Ice Cream

I started therapy approximately four years ago. I was leaving an abusive marriage. I thought I needed help navigating my way out of the marriage. My lack of education and knowledge on trauma had me oblivious to the fact that my unhealthy marriage was a direct result of unhealed childhood trauma. I also needed help untangling the mess of my childhood that ultimately led me to this point in my life. I was so unaware of how my childhood, generations of abuse, and lack of education molded me into an unhealed adult stuck in this very toxic marriage. 

I like to think of myself as very “normal” when it comes to blending in on the outside. I work, volunteer my time, attend church, have kids in activities, etc. I dress appropriately for work, church, and activities. I normally have a smile on my face. I suppose I would easily blend into a crowd of people. I mean, I always have anyway. You wouldn’t look at me and think I was broken on the inside. In fact, many people have said they envied how I had my life all together. What we portray to others can be so deceptive.

No one knew that due to a childhood of abuse, I learned from an early age to pretend everything was fine. I learned to make myself look “normal” despite what was happening to me or in my home. Those unhealthy skills of hiding abuse and trauma would prove to be even more convenient when my marriage became abusive. I hid it well. I spent my entire life hiding horrible events happening in my home. I was experienced at hiding the truth. I did what I knew. I hid it. I was ashamed. I blamed myself. I put on a smile and pretended everything was fine when it was anything but fine. I made it all look “normal.” If there was an award for hiding reality, I would definitely be a top contender.

When I started therapy, I hid the abuse from the therapist. My first therapist was not trained in trauma or abuse, so it was easy to only tell what I wanted. I had also skillfully navigated sessions with a pastor knowing what to reveal and what to keep hidden. Thankfully, most pastors are uneducated in abuse and trauma so hiding the abuse was much easier than I anticipated. No one wants their church to know their family is a house of horrors.

My second actual therapist was far more trained and educated. She called me out from the beginning. I either wanted to heal or I didn’t. Hiding the truth was not going to get me to a place of healing. Therapy helped me realize I had taken my childhood trauma into adulthood with me. In fact, my childhood trauma controlled my life. I had to learn to be honest with myself and those around me. No more hiding. I also had to learn to feel alllllllll those feelings I spent my entire life running from. Healing was harder than I ever imagined. Healing was scarier than living with the trauma. I had been living with it my entire life. I didn’t know how to live withOUT it. 

I started my kids in therapy after realizing the trauma from the abuse in our home would follow them into adulthood just as my childhood trauma did me. I wanted better for them. I didn’t want my children spending their lives lost in a perpetual cycle from generations before them. I didn’t want my children to grow up thinking any of this was a normal part of life like I did. I didn’t want my children to live their lives unhappily pretending to be fine. I didn’t want my children living with shame, guilt, and anger pushed upon them by someone else. I wanted my children to have a chance at a better life than I was handed. I wanted to give them what I was not given, a chance to heal while they were children.

Therapy has been a lot of work. We had so many unhealthy patterns to break. We had to learn to communicate in a healthy way. We had to learn to break generational patterns by talking openly about issues that were previously never allowed to be discussed. We had a lot of hard sessions where we cried, yelled, and fought. We had a lot of beautiful sessions where we communicated, listened, and had breakthroughs. We had a lot of hurt, but we had a lot of healing in those sessions. We learned to break the old patterns. We learned to start new ones. There is always room to grow. We continue to work on our family.

My ten-year-old had a rough day last week while I was working. She wasn’t trying to hide the fact that her day was rough. She was disappointed about some things. She sent me a picture of herself with a pizza and an ice cream cone followed by a text letting me know she was getting all her comfort foods with her stepdad while they processed her feelings. Her stepdad saw her struggling. He took her out of the house away from her brothers so they could discuss her frustrations and feelings. I never got that opportunity as a child when I was struggling.

When my trauma occurred, it was never discussed again. I was never able to work through my feelings. In fact, I had to pretend nothing happened. My daughter, however, has been allowed to express and work through her feelings about what happened in our home. She has a safe space in me, her stepdad, and especially her therapist. When I got off work, she was already working through her frustrations. At ten years old, she is already aware of how to recognize her feelings, validate them, and process them. I am so proud of her. 

My therapist taught me about healing my own inner child. Healing my own inner child has been the most healing I have experienced to this day. Also, I no longer hide my struggles. When I am struggling, I tell my husband and kiddos that I am struggling. I tell them when I need to take care of the parts of me that are still healing from when I was little. We sometimes go for ice cream, walks, bike rides, or any of the things that help my inner child feel what she needs to. Maybe that is why I LOVE the fact that my daughter went to have pizza and ice cream with her stepdad to pour over her feelings. No worries, we don’t have any food addictions. She isn’t replacing food with her feelings. She is discussing her feelings. Sometimes, you just have to let the child have a pizza and ice cream, whether it’s the inner child or the actual child.

Today, I realize I broke generations of trauma and abuse. Today, I realize my children don’t have to carry the burdens that I refused to heal. I no longer carry the burdens of those before me who refused to heal. My children get to heal. I get to heal. We get to heal together and separately. Some days will be pizza and ice cream days while we pour out our feelings. Other days will be easy days. Some days, we may need to regroup and try again. I am not ashamed we are in therapy. I am so darn proud we are in therapy. I am sad that no one before me stepped up to do the work to heal, but I am honored to be the one who stops passing trauma to my children. Hurt people hurt people. Healed people bring healing. The choice is yours.

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