How my therapist supported me in dealing with--and healing--from the traumatic sexual abuse of my childhood.

In Honor of Karen Fisher's Birthday

Today, I was writing my morning pages, and I noted the date: September 5, 2025. September 5 is Karen Fisher's birthday.

Karen Fisher

I finished my morning pages. Then, had a conversation with a friend dealing with PTSD. My friend asked how it's possible to go about one's life, when everything is triggering. She also asked how I stopped the spiraling once I was triggered.

I said that I can only tell my experience. I am not a therapist, but this is how Karen Fisher, my therapist, helped me:

In 1990, I was at the pinnacle of my career with my father and mother's bank. I was the Director of Marketing, and known as the "rainmaker." If we had a tough situation or a complex issue to unravel, I was the one brought in to help solve the crises. I rarely failed. I was paid well, was physically fit, and dressed to the nines.¹ (FOOT)

At first, choosing Karen Fisher for my therapist was geographical. Her office was less than a mile from my family run bank. After a couple of years, when I started unraveling the trauma of my childhood sexual abuse, being so close to the bank was problematic.

During my therapy sessions, I sobbed. When I retrieved the memories, I felt like the child I was when I stuffed 'em away. I felt like I was 4 years old and I cried like a baby.

Here I was a successful thirty year old woman, crying like a toddler, and feeling as helpless as a child.

About 15 minutes before our sessions would end, Karen would "frame it up so it fits." She would bring me back to me. Sometimes, she held a mirror up to my face, and I would see the adult woman I am. She would say, "You are not a child anymore. You are safe. You are a capable, strong, adult woman. No one can hurt you."

Frequently she asked me to stare into the mirror, at my adult face, place my hand at the center of my chest, and utter those affirmations to myself. In the first person. In the present tense.

• "I am a safe."

• "No one can hurt me anymore."

• "I am a powerful adult woman."

Then she would ask me to breath. To take in all the present, safe air, and release any lingering stress flaring up from our session—from my childhood.

Then, I would walk to my sleek 450SL Mercedes Benz, and drive the short distance to my office.

Where I would see my family. Those who ignored or betrayed me as a child.

One day, I distinctly recall what I was wearing: Dark green suede pants, a cream silk blouse, with an elegant pin at the collar. I had on slight heels that clicked with each step. I walked in the bank and the receptionist greeted me. My father's shadow loomed in his office.

My mind snapped. Suddenly I felt like my four year old self. Tears sprung to my eyes and I was certain my mascara was smearing.

I took two steps back and pushed through the door. I felt off balance as I navigated through the hallway to the women's room. I found the sink and threw water on my face. I looked up at my beautiful adult face and said, "There you are. You are safe."

Then, I washed my face. Something about the water cleansed my mind.

I cleared off the make-up smudges. I gazed at myself again and said, "I am a capable, strong, adult woman."

I went back into the office. I metaphorically placed my childhood trauma in a mental drawer, for safe keeping. I knew that I'd open that drawer again, with Karen's assistance, and unravel all the pain and betrayal. I knew that Karen would help me make sense of it all.

And she did. And I did. It took a long time. But, now, I don't need my compartments. The sexual abuse of my childhood is part of me, but it's not remotely close to a central part of my life and who I am. I am a whole, authentic, beautiful adult woman.

I make mistakes, learn, and grow. Laugh and love. And cherish this incredible, sacred life of mine.

One we can share, for like the single word, Paperdolls, we are connected.

And for that, on Karen Fisher's birthday, I thank her. I am so grateful she was born and guided me with such love and care--so I could learn to guide myself and build my own extraordinary beautiful, authentic, life.

Happy Birthday, Karen Fisher.²

1. "...consider the meaning to be simply a reference of scale. 'On a scale of one to ten; you are dressed to the nines,' Since perfection can never be attained, nine would be the absolute best.'"

2. In Paperdolls & Cowboy Boots, I write extensively about how hard it was for me to lose Karen Fisher