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Note: This post is part of a seven-part series on a multi-decade journey with sexual trauma and healing. It contains sensitive information including references to emotional process related to sexual trauma.
A decade after my South American adventure, I found myself in an immersive, five-week Tantra training for women. All the participants, teachers, healers, and helpers were women. There were no men in the space at all. I was part of a group of 30 women who were living, eating, and practicing together 6 days a week, starting from early in the morning until late in the evening, for more than a month straight.
Never before in my life had I experienced this felt sense of safety in sisterhood. I noticed during these five weeks, just how much mistrust of (and competition with) other women I had. So much of this was lingering in the shadows my psychology. But somehow, within the safety of this container, I gradually softened and allowed these real, raw, vulnerable connections with other women to touch me deeply.
I went through a lot of deep and difficult shit with this group of women. The inner and outer work was so challenging. Even getting comfortable with being fully naked with other women was really hard for me. And getting naked together — both emotionally and physically — was a big part of the practice. Most of the meditations, exercises, and embodiment practices that we were doing to get in touch with our femininity and sexuality were brand new to me: things like breast massage, tantric breath work, jade egg work, and yoni puja.
On the last night of the women’s Tantra training, part of our graduation ritual was to do an archetype dance. The flavor or frequency of the dance was chosen for each woman by the rest of the group, as something that might be edgy and expansive for her to try on. I was assigned to perform a sexy striptease in front of the group. As I awaited my turn to dance, my body went into a complete paralytic freeze. I was on my back on the floor shaking and crying, triggered by the mere thought of having to do this dance and be witnessed in it.
As I lay there frozen on the floor, several women gathered in a loving circle around me. The kneeled on both sides of me, at my head and at my feet. They offered their healing hands, to help me release some of this intense fear and contraction from my body. Fear of being sexy. Fear of being seen. Fear of shining, in the presence of other women. I had to learn that it was safe to do that. It was profound and deeply healing.
I didn’t understand this when I was going through this training, but I was learning to love myself, to love and appreciate my body, and to be in open moment to moment communication with all of the different parts of me. This experience was turning point in a lifelong de-conditioning and re-education process that is still ongoing.
This women’s Tantra training provided the opening for many keys to drop for me. Another pivotal moment took place during this timeframe, in a hypnotherapy and light body activation session with a powerful woman healer. Using her words and presence, she guided me into a deep trance state. And what happened in that space, is truly beyond language. But I will do my best to try to describe.
In that healing session, the memory of what happened in Ecuador came back to me. But it didn’t come back into my mind. It came back into my body. I had no idea what was happening at the time, but later I came to understand that I had a spontaneous somatic re-experiencing of the rape trauma. Only instead of freezing, this time I was fighting.
I wasn’t recalling a memory or retelling a story. I was on my back, kicking and punching the air, and screaming “no” at the top of my lungs. After a while, I sat up. And from a seated vertical position, I started dry heaving. I spent nearly 20 minutes energetically vomiting to the point that I could barely breathe. After that, I regained access to the memory.
For me, connecting with other women in a field of unconditional love and safety allowed me to open up enough to acknowledge what had happened to me. I believe that it was only because I found myself in the supportive circle of sisterhood, I was able to face the harsh reality of my own rape story. From there, I started the long, slow process of coming back to myself and healing.
Did you miss Part 1 of this essay series? It offers a detailed recounting my rape trauma memory, which can be especially potent for those courageous and curious men who would like a rare, intimate glimpse into what life is like, living in a woman’s body.
The next essay in this series, Part 3 of 7, is about a time when two opposite responses to aggression — freezing and screaming — occurred on the same day for me.