unexpected peace
by penny bond

When I signed up for the State of Grace Document workshop, conducted by Maureen McCarthy and Zelle Nelson on October 22-23, 2005, I had no idea what was awaiting me. I knew about the process from a friend, and thought it would be a positive addition to the way we do business that would be congruent with our values. I had no idea of the personal transformation that was to come. But, then I seldom do. Mostly I find that life has to push me through open doors of personal growth opportunity backwards because of my resistance or ignorance.

On Sunday we were introduced to the work of Byron Katie, where the idea of questioning our stories was explored. I was surprised by the notion that everything is story; that we make up stories around our experiences, or are handed down stories from parents or society that we internalize without much thought. The idea of questioning the stories of my life had never occurred to me. Based upon my memories of what had happened to me as a child, I lived my life with mostly unconscious assumptions about what to expect from myself, others, and the world.

I had polio when I was 2 years old and spent six weeks in a polio isolation ward. I can remember my parents walking out of the door at the other end of the ward, like it happened yesterday. I can still hear my own desperate screams, and how I fought the nurses with all of my tiny strength, who then tied me down and left me captured in my crib. I have memories of medical abuse where I was subjected to various experimental treatments involving electroshock to my paralyzed leg, bracing, restraints, and nurses threatening to not let my parents return if I wasn’t a “good girl”. My first experience with the whirlpool bath was traumatic. It was located in a cold, tile room, and the whirlpool itself, to the eyes of a 2 year old, was enormous. It appeared to be boiling (the water jets), and in the cool room, the warm water put off a visible vapor.

Designed for adults, the nurse lifted me up to lower me down into the water where she had to hold me, as the water was so deep I would have drowned. I was convinced, from my sister reading Hansel and Gretel to me, that I was about to be boiled and eaten! The nurse later told my mother that I had “passed out”.

And then, there came the years of rejection I experienced in school by my peers who were terrified they would catch the disease from me, wouldn’t let me sit down on the bus, and who stared mercilessly at my brace. High school was horrible. The story of my young life was not a pretty one. How could one question that?

As the final part of the workshop, we were asked to create our part of a state of grace document which involved looking at our interaction styles and warning signs of potential emotional melt down that would inform our co-signers of who we are and how we experience the world of relationship. I went out to the Labyrinth on the property, and as I walked in to the center, I held the thought of being totally honest with myself. When I sat down in the center and began to write, the idea of questioning stories came up again. As I tentatively began to explore my assumption of abandonment, I began to see the many experiences I had in the hospital that were comforting, helpful, and not abandoning. I thought about how my mother, after bringing me home, had diligently conducted my daily physical therapy exercises (often without much cooperation from me), and had cherished me, so grateful that polio had not taken my life. And suddenly, I realized that overall, I had not been abandoned like I thought I had. And, Maureen’s words rang in my ears: “To see what I thought happened, didn’t; that is the source of real forgiveness.” And I wept from relief, and from a profound sense of revolution in how I saw my self.

Still sitting in the center of the Labyrinth, I began to see how my assumption of abandonment had impacted my relationships, and how I could relate from a different place now that I had changed my story. However, just as that began to settle into me, I started to feel a deep and terrible self hatred. “What’s this?” I asked myself, wondering how I could come to some peace and have it immediately jerked from my grasp. Memories began to flood in of all of the children, their taunting, their avoidance, their wholesale rejection, that by the third grade had left me wishing that polio had killed me instead of leaving me to live this life. I wept again, for that pain was just too much. But, in the midst of it, the thought came to me, that I am no longer rejected. I am a competent adult who endeavors with all sincerity to be a blessing to my world. Those feelings were of the past, and that story needed to be changed. I had not realized how I carried around inside of me the self hatred I had internalized as a child from the rejection I experienced. By changing the story, I have begun to know self forgiveness, and a new appreciation for who I am. I have realized that I can question stories and assumptions that have hobbled my life, and by choosing to see another perspective, can find gratitude for what I previously judged negatively. With that has come a profound sense of peace.

With a major shift in perception, living it out is also a revelation, as the subtle, internal changes reveal themselves in unexpected ways. Prior to the workshop, I would have never considered writing an article about my experience with polio. I have spent my adult life trying to hide the disability so as to be “normal”, so writing about it would have made me feel too vulnerable to rejection. I would have felt “outed” in that sense. But now that I have “changed my story” about rejection, having suffered with polio and disability is no longer a source of shame for me, but a symbol of my solidarity with humanity. Suffering and imperfection is something we all struggle with. It is not something to feel ashamed of. Once I let go of my own internalized rejection, I realized that. A deep comfort in knowing that I am OK has settled in to my life. The day after the workshop, knowing that something significant had happened, I wrote in my journal, “Today is the first day of the rest of my life.” That statement is far truer now than I imagined when I wrote it.

One never knows when opening to new opportunities what kinds of healing are available. I am indebted to Maureen McCarthy, Zelle Nelson, and WNC Woman magazine for providing me the chance to heal issues that have plagued my life. What greater blessing is there?