Shadow Chasers

Here I am again, trying to chase the shadows from too many years ago hoping to catch them as they mockingly turn the corner before I can reach them. What would I do if I ever did catch them? It’s a moot point. I know I never will.

My childhood was, let’s just say, traumatic. Abuse of all sorts was a daily diet until it became my normal. I say this not for sympathy but as a point of reference. I say this because I know I am not alone. Truth be told most all of us are shadow chasers. If only the truth be told. If only it could be.

My life has been one of analyzing (even as a little girl) why people, specifically adults, do the things they do. As an adult I have been through counseling and taken several different types of counseling courses to help others. To help me. And because of my past I have learned to be much more compassionate, empathetic and able to stand with those who hurt. But even while I help others chase their shadows, I still chase mine.

Over the years I have sought answers, blamed myself, not blamed myself, been angry, forgiven, forgiven again, etc., etc., etc. I’ve looked for answers through God, mostly. And while so many of the effects of my abuse have been lessened, I still can’t exorcise some of the lingering shadows that mock my complete and total healing. They are always waiting just around the next corner.

I am not the only obvious shadow chaser in my immediate family. My youngest sister was diagnosed with a mental illness several years ago. And, as I have tried to understand her illness as much as I can, I’ve learned that the sheer trauma of our childhood could have been what sent her mental state off the cliff to a point of no return. Her only way to cope — to survive — was to break from reality. Generations of our family have been shattered by the dysfunction of generations of family members living years before our births.

All that being said, there is a line of thinking I have repeatedly heard people say out loud and read comments from others who state that adults are responsible for their actions or mental state. They say you can’t blame things on others — childhood experiences, trauma — for adult dysfunction, actions or reactions.

Yes, adults are absolutely responsible for their actions. Absolutely. But, as an adult who has turned their self inside out seeking total wholeness, I have to say I disagree with the rest of this premise.

While we are responsible for our actions, those very actions may have become permanent shadows of things that hurt us so deeply we will never be the same. We can’t be. Because of those traumatic experiences, we are not who we would have been. Deep inside we know this. And that’s the scariest part of all this shadow chasing. We believe it’s ultimately in vain. It is what causes many to lose hope.

Simply put, childhood (or adulthood) trauma scars us forever in ways we don’t even know about. It makes us partly who we are, the intertwining fabric of our emotions vs. our reactions. No matter how much we seek healing, there are permanent triggers, automatic responses or feelings we have because of past events simply because we still have memories or feelings from those events.

Yes, God has helped take the sting out of some of those memories, my memories, but the reality is others still remain— blasphemous words to some who are reading this I am sure. In other words, how I choose to react to situations is in my control but, my automatic visceral responses and emotions that still remain are not as easy to control. They have become as natural to me as breathing.

That does not mean there is no hope, that we can’t have good lives despite the shadowy figures that remind us of the traumatic events each time they slip mockingly just around the corner of our souls and minds. Because in between the shadow chasing there is light and happiness and love and just plain old everyday living.

There is hope, so much hope. I am living proof of that. At least I hope I am. I pray I am.

If we turn the light of truth fully on those shadows — name them — they dissipate, at least momentarily. And though they may never be fully or completely gone, at least it’s a place to start.

It is a place to start.

Jackie Deems

copyright 2019

The recent suicide of someone I know prompted me to write this blogpost. He had tried hard to live with the shadows of his abusive childhood but after years of trying, the shadows finally overcame him.

To look at him from the outside you’d think all was well. But most often that’s how people who are hiding from the shadows of their past look to us.

I wanted him to know he was not alone. I wanted him to know there was hope. I wanted to walk with him through the shadows. I just never got that chance.

He is finally at peace now and the shadows no longer taunt him. The shadows did not win. God did.