Exposure (Therapy)

Over the past couple of weeks I've gotten a new kind of exposure. It's the kind of exposure that makes my chest tighten and heart race. Yes, 4.4 million people watched my story unfold on the new ABC series, In An Instant, but the kind of exposure I'm talking about is the re-enactment of my lived experience which up until now has only been replayed in my mind. 

I've listened to most of the episode and watched parts. Just like all the other exposure therapy I've done over the years, I know that this too will be a gradual, but important process.

The process. That's the piece the show skipped over. One minute I'm physically and emotionally traumatized and the next I'm walking in to my nonprofit, laughing and on the path to healing others. I'm glad they told the story of the collapse, the reason I keep telling it is that there is still a crisis at hand. It's a story that needs to be told and re-told until something changes, but from my perspective, the most important part of my story isn't the collapse, but the path I took to heal.

There's nothing glamorous about the road back from trauma. It's painful and arduous, but it's the part of the story I want to tell so others know they are just as capable of bouncing back. I've been actively working on my healing for the past seven and a half years, and it's only because of that work that the show was able to tie my story up in a nice bow at the end. 

I had my first experience of true exposure therapy about a year after the collapse. I mentioned to my therapist that I had been catching myself holding my breath in the shower, then gasping for air as if it were in short supply. (Yep, it took me over a year to even realize this was a problem.) I got connected with a counseling student who worked with me for many months to move through the fear that was keeping my body in survival mode.

Current viewing strategy: face away from the TV and turn around occasionally to watch.

Water was this everyday thing that had become my enemy. Exposure started by looking at pictures of tranquil seas, then listening to babbling brooks and soft waterfalls. Eventually we took a trip to the site of the collapse so I could smell the river and then, eventually, I worked my way into a pool. See it, hear it, smell it, feel it. 

(Lucky for the water, I had already gotten used to tasting it so I didn't die of dehydration.)

All these interactions with pleasant water experiences helped me find a new relationship with water. I no longer gasp for air in the shower, but it's still been 7 years, 7 months and 21 days since my head and body have been fully submerged in water. I don't curse the river quite so often anymore, but I did have my first panic attack (5+ years later) when the boat sank during Life of Pi. The thing about healing is that it's a process - it doesn't end, it just changes.

Watching the Rush Hour Disaster episode is just another form of exposure therapy. First I listen and watch a little. Then, eventually, I'll watch the whole thing (with my eyes open, the whole time.) 

Follow Lindsay's board move THRU fear on Pinterest.

Moving through fear - that's the process of healing. It's why I have a Pinterest board by that name. Whenever I see a picture that makes my chest tighten and my heart race, I pin it there so that I can go back again and again until the image no longer stops me in my tracks. 

I can't live my precious life if I'm stopped in my tracks. Exposing myself to my fears and conquering them puts me back in control. Taking back my life from the demons of trauma is the only viable option if I'm going to make the most of the years of breath left in me.