Jamie’s life reflects classic experiences of trauma, addiction and recovery. The interweaving of somatic bodywork and somatic practices to the healing process has transformed her life from victim to thriving survivor giving hope to millions of victims worldwide.
Jamie Spencer is the youngest of three children, whose parents (Sue and Budd) are hard working, good providers in the material sense, but not the emotional sense. Hers was a typical family living in the suburbs, two salaries, going to church on high holy days and holidays, an active social life, one family vacation a year – pretty standard.
Jamie spent the first couple of days in the NICU (neo-natal intensive care unit) because she had difficulty breathing. Once reunited, Sue and Jamie didn’t bond well, exacerbated by Sue having to bottle feed because of breast-milk production problems. Not a wonderful start, but certainly a redeemable situation. However, now home and not wanting to experience the post-partum depression she’d had to manage with her eldest, Sue decided to return to work as soon as possible, leaving the kids with a variety of child-care providers including other family members, neighbors, and friends. Sometimes they would be left overnight if the Spencers had a major social event to attend.
Jamie was a shy child, imaginative, creative, keeping to herself and generally able to entertain herself well. With two brothers and not much interest in cops and robbers, she was often alone and didn’t get involved with the rough and tumble of their activities. Jamie felt different, didn’t know how to fit in and secretly wondered if she’d been adopted from another family. She loved playing with dolls, had an imaginary friend and when it came time to go to kindergarten, had a really hard time connecting with the other kids, much preferring her own company and the attention of the grown-ups. She became very attached to one teacher in particular, Miss Louise, snuggling on her lap whenever she could. Miss Louise had one of those incredibly soft, fuzzy, angora sweaters that Jamie loved to stroke and rub her face against, finding the experience soothing and calming.
Miss Louise had been a sensitive child herself and really identified with and connected to Jamie, sensing in some deep way that all was not well at home, although there was certainly no obvious abuse or neglect. While Miss Louise may not have been aware of the profoundly positive effect of this relationship, in years to come Jamie would remember her fondly, knowing that somebody loved and believed in her when she felt no-one else even knew she existed. This type of mentoring, albeit unofficial, creates a resiliency in kids that may not otherwise be revealed, deeply influencing their ability to recover and heal from the knocks and scrapes life may serve up in the future.
The Secret
Jamie can’t remember how or when it started (was she six, maybe seven?), but when she stayed overnight at her grandparent’s house, Grandpa began to visit her bedroom after everyone else was asleep. Naïve, confused, bewildered, ashamed and feeling very alone, Jamie acquiesced to his wishes, not knowing there were any other choices. She began the process of being very still and dissociating from her body – out through the window to play with her dolls amidst the twinkling stars above – and allowing him to do what he did, without questioning, without struggling, without trying to escape, being told she must never tell anyone or he’d stop loving her - classic, incestuous sexual abuse.
Keeping her promise and saying nothing, the abuse continued for some years until Grandpa was incapacitated by an auto accident and could no longer walk unaided. At last! Finally, it stopped. What a relief……and yet, in a strange, hard to describe way, she missed the unique connection with him, the special attention. She both hated and loved him simultaneously. But after all, it had ended, and now the baffling and shameful experiences could be put away forever and forgotten about.
Drinking begins
An over achiever in school, tending to her work and still keeping to herself, Jamie navigated her adolescence with relative ease. She discovered the soothing quality of alcohol at the age of fourteen when she and a girlfriend began to experiment with their parents’ liquor cabinets. The effect of alcohol was quite wonderful. From the very start, Jamie anticipated with pleasure how she would feel after a few drinks. The pain and shame of the past drifted away. She even felt outgoing and exuberant at times. Then there was sex. Jamie had her own very personal view about sex. She thought she was supposed to have sex with anyone who wanted to have sex with her and yet, she really didn’t want to have sex at all. She just wanted to be held by someone and, having been trained as a child to get attention, special attention, by allowing her body to be used for sexual purposes, she knew just what to do. Have a few drinks, do what he wanted, float away into a painless oblivion - at least some of that time being held close with the elusion of being loved and nurtured.
Jamie lived in the fantasy that she would marry her high school sweetheart, have a couple of kids and live happily ever after. Some of her friends even got married before they graduated and she felt very envious of their lacy white wedding dresses and all they represented. There was a problem though - no high school sweetheart. Any number of guys would buy her alcohol, sleep with her and never call again. She was puzzled. Jamie was just doing what she thought she was supposed to do. There was no intentional promiscuity here, just a lonely, scared, naïve girl “looking for love in all the wrong places” – literally.
So even though she hadn’t originally planned to go to college, not thinking there’d be any need, the escape to a different environment was a welcome one. Perhaps college would be different? Jamie attended class and did homework, at least some of it, but her favorite activity was to hang out in the student bar, meet guys and get lots of sweet attention. She drove drunk a couple of times, but no harm done (at least, none she knew of). The college crowd was pretty wild and crazy. Alcohol was readily available, but not much marijuana and very rarely cocaine or speed. Anyway, Jamie had found her best friend, and that was the bottle. Her best friend caused her to have blackouts, those incredibly embarrassing experiences where she woke up and couldn’t remember what had happened the night before, how she’d got home even, and had to call someone to find out what had happened. Occasionally she woke up in a strange man’s bed, with faint recollections of the night before, feeling horrified and ashamed.
One evening Jamie and some friends went to see a movie and for some reason, she found herself crying throughout, noticing no-one – absolutely no-one else – moved to cry. She began to wonder if there was something wrong. Was she weird? Was she depressed? What was going on? She felt hollow and lonely a lot of the time, yearned for the soothing oblivion of alcohol more often…she began to worry something may be really wrong. She sought out the college psychotherapist as a resource. Dr. Ford, a quiet gentle soul in his sixties, welcomed Jamie into his office and simply listened to her talk about her day to day life. He didn’t ask many questions, mostly listened. Dr. Ford was actually a poor match for Jamie. He’d been trained in the Freudian psycho-analytic style, presenting what’s called a “blank slate” to the client, revealing nothing of himself and allowing his clients to “free associate” – talk in a stream of consciousness manner, not offering much in the way of feedback or nurturing. Many sessions found Jamie sitting and crying for fifty minutes. What she needed was someone to empathize, show concern and curiosity, gently ask about her history, gently confront her alcohol abuse – a nurturing, parental type figure who was genuinely interested, concerned and could begin to heal the wounds of the past.
Had Jamie made a link between her childhood sexual abuse, alcohol consumption and sexual activity? Not yet, it would be years – actually decades - before this became apparent.
A Moment of Clarity
Then an event changed her life forever. Now working and engaged in a new affair with a married man (not the first), Jamie was fortunate enough to have what some call a “moment of clarity”. They had plans to meet for happy hour, grab a bite to eat and then go to a concert. Having skipped lunch, the happy hour drinks had Jamie intoxicated more quickly than usual, and she began to slow down because the night was yet young and there was a concert ahead. She asked for vodka and tonic without the vodka, but he was much more interested in getting her drunk. The remainder of the evening was a blur, a blackout in progress. The next morning, waking up with a hangover and an obnoxious man in her bed, Jamie suddenly realized – really realized - that if she had not been drinking the night before, none of this would have happened. No such other realization had ever taken hold like this one. Finally, the reality of her pathetic life was revealed and she decided that would be her last drink. And, miraculously, it was.
Jamie was shattered. It felt as if her world were collapsing around her. The thought that she may be an alcoholic didn’t cross her mind, but the thought that she may have a little problem with alcohol did occur to her. And that would be a real problem, because through all the years of people betraying and abandoning her, alcohol had been her thoroughly reliable, never faltering best friend. The idea that alcohol had now let her down was absolutely intolerable.
Jamie had continued in therapy on and off since college, although she and her therapist had never really talked about alcohol. What was there to discuss? (Anyway, none of them had ever asked). They’d spent much more time on how difficult her childhood and friendships had been, how lonely she felt, how sad she was to be in her late twenties and still be single. Now there was no turning back. She knew she had to go to her therapist and tell the story of waking up with Mike, probably not tell that he was married, but at least acknowledge the part about being drunk. Oh, this was going to be hardest thing she’d ever done.
Becky, her therapist, was only somewhat surprised to hear the Mike story. She’d wondered if Jamie minimized descriptions of her alcohol use, given her loneliness, depression and the kind of family life she described. Becky had even wondered about childhood sexual abuse, but knew that Jamie would need to come to her own realization about that in her own time, and never pushed an agenda there. Now the way ahead was clear. It was time for Jamie to take a look at her relationship with alcohol and the best place to do that was in the supportive environment of Alcoholics Anonymous. Persuading Jamie to attend an AA meeting would be another issue, but that would certainly be the best plan.
Eventually, Jamie agreed to attend an AA meeting. She went to the first one feeling more terrified and embarrassed than she could ever remember. The people there welcomed her, took her in, understood her pain, bewilderment, shame and embarrassment. When she stammered for the first time “My name is Jamie and I am an alcoholic” she thought the world would end. Instead, one chapter ended and a new, brighter one began.
Clean and Sober
Jamie’s clean and sober life bore little relation to the life before, although the transition was gradual and challenging. She had to shift through these mindsets: “maybe I have a little problem with alcohol” to “I do have a problem with alcohol” to “this means I have to give up alcohol?’” to “I have to give up alcohol forever?” to “I am an alcoholic.” To describe this transformation as challenging is an understatement.
The first weeks without alcohol were tremendously difficult (although there were no d.t.’s to manage, otherwise medical monitoring would have been necessary). Seeing her therapist every week helped; going to at least one AA meeting every day helped as well. She got a temporary sponsor quickly, read the material and followed her sponsor’s directions. It was hard not to hang out with her old friends, but it was also hard to be with them because they were still drinking and, around them, she wanted to drink too. Going to work and going to meetings now consumed her time; she looked at her life and barely recognized herself. Jamie gradually drifted away from her old drinking buddies, explored different AA meetings and began to make new clean and sober friends. Dating was a terrifying experience, as yet unexplored. The haze of alcohol had blunted the scary nature of dating and sexual experiences thus far; the prospect of trying to interact with the opposite sex without that protection was utterly daunting.
Dating could wait. Sobriety came first. Her sponsor assured her that dating in the first year of sobriety wasn’t a good idea in any event, and lonely though she felt, Jamie thought this was a pretty smart idea.
Time passed. Jamie proudly celebrated her sobriety with a six month sobriety medallion, then a one year medallion. She still didn’t tell her family, figuring they would not believe her, be ashamed or, most intolerably, laugh. None of these options would feel supportive or helpful. As the first year anniversary of being clean and sober arrived, the notion of “it’s OK to date now” became apparent. Jamie felt increasing anxiety as she contemplated not just “it’s OK to date” but translated this in her mind to “I should be dating now.” Even though both her sponsor and therapist reassured her this was not the case, Jamie convinced herself she should be dating, just like she’d convinced herself in high school she should be married with a couple of kids by the time she was twenty-five.
As she put herself increasingly under pressure, anxiety began to build in her life as never before. With anxiety came backaches, tension headaches, sometimes migraines. With anxiety also came depression. Depression to the extent that her therapist recommended she consult a psychiatrist for evaluation for anti-depressant medication. Jamie was horrified, yet at the same time, knew something was going on beyond her control. No amount of exercise, making healthy eating choices, drinking water, taking vitamins and so on was shifting this anxiety or depression. Grudgingly, she agreed to take the anti-depressant medication recommended. The depression lifted and the edge was taken off the anxiety, but the tension deep in her body remained – backaches, headaches and migraines were now regular companions.
Although she didn’t know it yet, Jamie was entering a new phase in her recovery. The aches and pains of her body were calling – soon to be yelling - for attention. The chronic pattern of holding and constriction, laid down all those years ago as a child when unspeakable things happened at night, was taking its toll.
“It is now thought that people who have been traumatized hold an implicit memory of traumatic events in their brains and bodies. That memory is often expressed in the symptomology of posttraumatic stress disorder – nightmares, flashbacks, startle responses, and dissociative behaviors. In essence, the body of the traumatized individual refuses to be ignored.”
Babette Rothschild, Ph.D.
Still immobilized
Asleep on a Sunday morning, Jamie was suddenly awakened, senses heightened, immediately gripped by fear. The tell-tale signs of an earthquake were all around – the sickening feeling of the ground swelling in waves as if it were the ocean; the sound of plates and glasses smashing on the kitchen floor; the sound of books and ornaments sliding and crashing onto the living room floor; several alarms beginning to wail in the neighborhood. She was alone in the house amidst a 6.4 earthquake.
Did she run outside, get under a table or in a doorway? Did she move to protect herself as taught since she was a child? No, she could not. Jamie was immobilized. She was absolutely frozen, unable to move, barely able to breathe. Not from the weight of crumbling rafters, but from the abusive history that lived in her body. As a child, Jamie had been molested and her automatic response to the danger had been to become still – immobilized, subservient, submissive. She didn’t “fight” and she didn’t “flee” but became almost stone-like in response to danger.
Two other events in her life illustrate this same coping mechanism. While walking one morning, Jamie noticed a couple of dogs playing ahead, noting their presence but not bothered by it. One of the two began to run toward her, and thinking this was a friendly dog wanting to play, Jamie simply watched with interest. In the blink of an eye, the dog had maneuvered beside her and she felt a sharp stab of pain where the dog had firmly planted its teeth into her thigh. Absolutely stunned, just like during the earthquake, Jamie was rooted to the spot and did not, could not, would not have been able to if she’d wanted to, move. The dog ran off, could not be caught by the owner, and came at her again. She felt a searing pain and this time the dog sunk its teeth into her other thigh. Not lash out with a kick? Not run away in the face of a second attack? How strange. Not for a trauma survivor whose conditioned response is one of “freeze.” Movement was simply impossible. Impossible because in the face of danger, Jamie’s response – how her mind and body is undeniably conditioned - is to be completely and utterly still.
Several years later Jamie was startled out of her sleep at 2:00 am by the loud noise of crashing bottles, cans, plastic containers, and boxes somewhere across the house. (In fact, the over-filled recycling bins in the garage had fallen over and emptied themselves onto the concrete floor). Jamie was immobilized - again. With other people asleep in the house, she was not alone this time, but was still unable to even call for help. Forget moving out of bed to get help or exploring what had happened. Hyper-vigilant – even in sleep – Jamie was awoken by the noise that everyone else slept right through. Visions of knife wielding attackers, balaclava clad, armed burglars swirled through her mind. Even though – at some level – she thought it was probably the recycling, terrifying images of other possibilities kept playing other horrifying scenarios.
Victim becomes Survivor
These three events piqued Jamie’s curiosity about her freeze response, especially to the last when her room-mate said “why didn’t you wake me?” and it seemed silly to say “I couldn’t move or speak.”
Having been in traditional talk therapy much of her adult life, making slow, painstaking progress, Jamie felt frustrated and wanted to explore something else. She had read about a new method called eye movement desensitization reprocessing (EMDR) and, having talked it over with her therapist, arranged several sessions with an EMDR clinician. Although this did not produce the relief she had hoped for, the door opened to many more questions. Gradually, as she and her therapist discussed the information they could put together, a picture began to emerge – Jamie’s hyper-vigilance (constantly assessing and scanning the environment for danger), difficulty trusting others, anxiety and depression, lack of satisfying relationships or sexual experience, self-medication with alcohol all made sense. Perhaps she’d been molested as a child?
Based on all the evidence, Jamie’s therapist wouldn’t have been at all surprised if this were the case. (Given the incredibly delicate arena of childhood sexual abuse, her therapist, like all ethical therapists, treads cautiously here – avoiding any notion of leading or suggestion). Her therapist believes that “the body doesn’t lie” and that the time had come for Jamie to do some body oriented work. Not trained in this domain herself, she recommended a somatic practitioner who did bodywork on a table, actually touched the client (so different than mainstream talk therapy) and specialized in trauma. Skeptical, but highly motivated, Jamie managed to put her concerns aside. At some level deep inside, Jamie knew something really bad had happened and that unless this mysterious piece was resolved, she wouldn’t be capable of sustaining a rewarding relationship. After all she was in her late thirties now, still lonely and single. There had been boyfriends but none stuck around and she knew it was because she couldn’t trust any of them enough – it wasn’t about them, it was all about her. She felt so scared, and tense, and anxious…all the time. How could she trust them? She still had a lot of work to do.
Jamie went to see Amanda for her first appointment. They talked. She left feeling faintly disappointed because “nothing happened.” It was just like “talk therapy.” The next time they talked again and Amanda explained they were “building trust.” Amanda promised they would do bodywork the next time. Anxious yet curious, frightened yet determined, at the next session Jamie lay fully clothed on the massage table and began to dialogue with Amanda. She gave permission to be touched and the work began. As she was rocked on the table and pressure applied to various points on the body, Jamie began to shake and sob. Waves of emotion, and then waves of gagging and retching wracked her body. Both terrified and relieved, Jamie could hardly believe what was happening – where was all this coming from? What did it mean? What had happened? What was going on?
Amanda held the space for the work carefully and respectfully, spending some time de-briefing the session before Jamie left. She had to walk around for a while before getting in the car to drive away, feeling weird and spaced out. Once home she did some journaling about the session, took a bubble bath, and once asleep had the usual recurrent dream – walking naked in a public place, exposed, ashamed, with no escape and utter humiliation. While much has been written about dreams and their analysis, even to the untrained eye, the content here is clearly rooted in her abuse history.
Continuing the work with Amanda, Jamie experienced other dramatic and upsetting bodywork sessions, and also much quieter, gentler sessions. Amanda recommended she begin a meditation practice where she centered herself and paid attention to her breathing for 15-20 minutes a day, and yoga classes, both to bring Jamie’s awareness to her body and its sensations. Sobriety had brought some awareness to the body, but not enough for her to really shift from victim to survivor.
As sessions proceeded, one stood out as significant. Having gagged and retched and actually vomited during a session, Jamie began to experience and then describe feeling her grandfather’s hands on her body, invading, probing, investigating, caressing, soothing, reassuring – a confusing mix of signals. She felt herself dissociate from the scene, floating out of the window to the stars in the night sky, watching what he was doing from a distance. In her view, there was no doubt whatsoever what was happening. She was being sexually abused.
Amanda’s commentary:
“When Jamie walked into my office I assessed her energetic structure: sunken chest, rounded shoulders, tilted pelvis (assumed to protect the genitals), a lot of energy high up (shoulders and head) and mostly absent throughout the rest of her body. I do a careful and thorough assessment, observing the client both standing and lying on the table, and I suspected childhood sexual abuse. Such an assessment remains private until the client demonstrates an awareness or memories emerge, at which time I validate their experience and what probably happened. (We’ll never know for sure, there are no photos or movies, the perpetrator is long dead, but I trust what clients bring forth – the body does not lie).
Once the abuse emerged, we continued the work to validate Jamie’s experience. We focused on developing healthy self-soothing activities (especially since alcohol used to be a resource and we didn’t want it to become a resource again) such as walking in and appreciating nature, being in touch with a spiritual sense, feeling gratitude, journaling, creating collage, bubble-baths and hot tubs, massage, lighting candles, being with friends and so on.
We also utilized somatic practices such as Jamie pushing against me, successfully saying NO and pushing me away; punching and kicking specially designed pads to feel the force and energy of her body; staying grounded while walking; lengthening the spine and pulling up the chest to feel more assertive and powerful.
Jamie has made great progress in the time we’ve worked together, and after a couple of years of regular sessions, we’re now focusing on finer concerns such as calibrating the appropriate expression of anger; catching herself dissociating and becoming present again; extending her energy out into the world rather then isolating.”
The Good Life
Over the course of twenty years of recovery, Jamie has traversed from frightened and lonely child to embarrassed alcoholic, to grounded, satisfied and successful adult. Jamie’s career in the corporate world has steadily expanded to the enviable position of being able to set her own hours, as long as she gets the job done, and includes as much travel as she desires. She enjoys going to 12-step meetings around the nation, occasionally abroad as well. She remembers the days when she couldn’t be sure of the rent and those days are long gone.
Her family doesn’t really understand or hold with all the “therapy nonsense” she’s been involved with over the years, nor do they believe she’s an alcoholic – how could she bring such shame to the family name? So they’ve settled into a stiff, respectful, distant relationship, talking occasionally on the phone and getting together every year or so. They’re not close, never likely to be. Jamie doesn’t see the point in telling her story - they wouldn’t believe her and anyway, what would it achieve? There’s a strong likelihood that her Grandfather molested her Mother as well – at least, that’s what her therapist says the research statistics show. Both her parents’ health is deteriorating and stirring up this hornet’s nest seems selfish at this point.
What brings Jamie the most joy these days is her own new family. Along the way she found a good man who was able to take on and be incredibly patient with her healing process, especially the sexual healing part. Having missed the boat on having babies - although Jamie feels fine about this - they both love dogs and acknowledge with a wry smile that their three Labradors are just like kids, getting as much lavish attention as the children next door. They enjoy hiking together, taking off at the weekends for adventures on the beach and in the mountains. Is life perfect? No. Is it vastly improved? Yes. Jamie continues to be grateful for her sobriety, helpful therapists and somatic practitioners, allowing her story to be told for the sake of others also healing. “This journey is not for the timid” she says, “it is for the bold of heart and spirit, and it’s worth every ounce of energy it’s taken.”
