Baby Elephant Walk

How to know when you are healed

Back in the early 1990s, we had a healing family meeting. I wrote about it in the book. We were all thrilled. It felt like the weight of the world was lifted off our backs. My brother Byron cried thanking me for "championing the family healing process." In a subsequent meeting with Karen Fisher, she suggested that I compile all my journals, writings, poems and put them together in a book for other survivors. She said it showed the healing process from A-Z. She said that there were parts that a reader might not understand, she wanted to write the therapeutic inserts to explain my journey. I agreed because it seemed victorious, healthy, and doable.

A couple of months later, I had another meeting with Karen. She had cancer and said she wouldn't be able to do her part for the survivors' book. I was upset about her cancer, but slightly relieved about the book. Then, she said, "But I'd like you to talk to your friend's mother, Carol Scott." Karen knew Carol from therapeutic circles. She knew that I had gone to Israel with Carol's daughter.

The rest of the story is in the book.

I met Karen later, and her cancer had progressed. She wanted me to transition to another therapist. I thought I was done. I asked Karen how I'll know when I'm done. Karen provided an eloquent explanation of the differences between a disorder and neurosis (I had PTSD). Basically, she said that there are no perfect people. Therefore, we are all raised by imperfect people resulting in some idiosyncrasies and hang-ups. She laughed and said, "I like to call them our favorite neurosis."

I laughed with her. I certainly had my favorite neuroses.

Karen said that when I'm okay with my own favorite neurosis, then I'll know. In the meantime, she had talked to a warm and loving Doctor of Psychology who would help me make the transition to "done" and healed.

At the time, I didn't understand Karen really wanted me in therapy for support during her death.

Now, years later, I know I'm healed. I'm okay. I still can't close my eyes in the shower, but who cares? No big deal. I don't even notice anymore.

Is it as if the abuse never happened? No. It will always be with me. However, I function and am consistently content with my life.

This past week, I've been reviewing possible music for the audio version of Paperdolls and Cowboy Boots. Most of the music is somber ballads, but I found one song that made my heart leap. It's called "Baby Elephant Walk" by Henry Mancini. It's from a movie called Hatari! (I read the synopsis, and as an adult now, I know I wouldn't like the movie. John Wayne hunting big game in Africa for Zoos and Circuses, yuck). But back when I was a toddler, I remember my mother playing the soundtrack. When "Baby Elephant Walk" came on -- I danced! I was a baby, and the baby elephants were cute just like me! Listening to the music instantly takes me back to the dancing toddler I once was.

This morning, I danced to the music again. I hope you do also, if not, I hope it brings you a smile.