An Artist does EMDR
“It’s interesting because I would have given that experience a higher number, but I have a new 10,” I said from the counseling couch as we dove into EMDR Therapy.
If you’re unfamiliar with this type of therapy, it’s a method of helping people heal from trauma. At the beginning of every EMDR session, the professional asks the client to rate the worst part of a memory on a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the worst.
“Yeah,” my counselor replied, looking at me wide-eyed and locked in, as if a lightbulb went off. If I had to guess, the dots in her mind were connecting from her schooling to a lived and breathed example sitting before her. “A new 10… that can certainly happen.”
Each person’s “10” is relative based on what we know to be true. Two years ago, I had things in life I would have called a “10” before experiencing an event that felt like a 15.
Considering how weak I often feel during the healing journey, it’s beautiful to reframe the path of healing as one that is courageous and resilient. Stay with me here, because if you’re reading this, you’ve likely been through your own 7, 10, or 15–a 15 being off the charts. And you’re still here, alive and breathing.
Take a moment with me to notice the breath in your lungs, the ground beneath your feet, and the chair that holds you. As you do, please be kind to your body and notice what you feel as you read along for more on EMDR.
After naming the event and rating it with a number, my next step in the EMDR therapy session was to name any negative beliefs associated with the memory. “I’m alone” was the first thing that came to mind in that given moment.
As we entered the past and processed the pain and suffering, tears eventually poured out of my eyes, gently and lightly. Sadness, anger, and more grief surfaced, but in the safety of a compassionate witness (AKA my incredible counselor), I felt grounded and at peace in the midst of what was once tumultuous and untethered. Let this be living proof of the power of psychological safety. We can handle hard things, but we aren’t meant to do them alone.
Before I knew it, our time was up, and my words of pain were met not with someone trying to fix me or fix the issue, but with someone choosing to give the gift of presence and honor.
My counselor then asked what I needed to leave with and shared a menu of options before our time was up–a prayer, a containment exercise, or a peaceful place exercise. Prayer felt right this time, so I closed my eyes and opened my palms to receive. She prayed faithfully and kindly for me to see where Jesus was in the midst of pain, and this is my prayer for you, too, dear reader.
“It’s always good to be with you,” I said when she finished her prayer.
As I left the safety of her office and re-entered the green and sunshine-y world that morning, it felt like she was with me. Safe relationships are supposed to be this way–secure when we’re in and away from them.
I got in my car, and the song “I Am Not Alone” by Kari Jobe played without my choosing. Through wet eyes, I sang along, “I am not alone. You will go before me. You will never leave me.”
As I process the heartache that is tied to “I am alone” in the dark of night associated with trauma, the Lord is seemingly shouting to me, as to say, “I’m right here and I will catch you when you fall.”
When I left my personal time of reading and praying the morning before our EMDR session, I asked, “Lord, what do you want me to know today?”
“Never will I leave you, never will I forsake you,” came to mind… tender words from Hebrews 13:5.
We often dismiss our own pain and suffering, but God never does so with us. He is the Healer who wants to tend to every wound and be with us in it all.