You stand there, looking at every dream and goal and expectation -- incinerated by a disclosure of infidelity, a discovery of explicit material, or the overall realization of abuse. 

Your ears are still pumping with the roaring of fire.
The flames have singed your hair and your skin.

You're stunned, staring at the rubble of everything you thought was real and safe.

"What just happened?"
"How did we get here?"
"How do we move on from this?"
"What do I do NOW?"

The House Fire Analogy 

This is a useful word picture for the grueling process of post-trauma growth after betrayal, trauma, coercive control, domestic violence, religious trauma -- when the people who should have helped to keep you safe have failed you.

Imagine with me...

You're sitting in the rubble of a house fire.
Your house fire.

You are faced with multiple options when a house burns down.

Some choose to simply walk away, they're done.
She's not going to sift through the rubble.
She's not going to get her wounds tended.
She doesn't care if a burn gets infected or not. 
She's not going to rebuild. 
She turns her back. 
She walks away. 
She's done. 
>>You could do that, it's an option. 

Some come back to the scene of the fire every day indefinitely.
She just sits in the rubble, storm or shine.
The rain mixes with her tears.
She mourns and wails and grieves, long past the season of grieving.
She smears the ashes and soot on herself.
She won't shower or see a doctor.
She sets up housekeeping in the rubble.
She limps along without running water or a toilet.
She stares at the stars every night because there's no roof sheltering the rubble.
She invested her heart and soul in the homesite before it was destroyed.
The sunk cost factor will bear her into the grave.
She's never going to leave.
She's never done.
>>You could do that, it's an option.

Some choose to clear the rubble.
She decides the labor might be worth the effort. 
She camps beside the burn site, because she's got heavy lifting to do.
She gears up with protective boots, gloves, the works.
She invites seasoned rubble-clearers to join her when possible.
She allows safe community to participate if they can. 
She spends her days hauling charred lumber and lifting melted beams. 
She sorts through the remnants, setting aside any valuable bits that remain. 
Her back screams and her legs are like jelly each night. 
Her shins have bloody bruises from getting snagged on rebar. 
Her hands grow blisters that burst and ache.
She visits the doctor for burn cream and debridement when needed.
>>You could do that, it's an option.

This may sound like the most exhausting option, but it's not necessarily harder. Imagine it as a cash payment upfront, which hits you hard but you skip the accruing interest. 

Sitting in the rubble, or walking away from the experience without healing from it, often feels easier upfront.

But there's a hefty compounding interest rate when you don't do the work to heal and sift and reconstruct. Walking away, or sitting in the rubble is a lot like putting life on a credit card. You may feel less pressure in the moment, but you're not taking action for the long term.

And the interest rate will strangle you over time.

Just like the woman who sits among the shards and smears herself with ashes, the one who labors to remove the rubble is also drenched in sweat, rain, and soot for a while. She's smeared beyond recognition with the smoky char of her vaporized dreams. 

She wants to quit, some days. 
She doesn't know if she has it in her, to keep going until the foundation is cleared.
She rests some days. 
She drags away the trash and sweeps up the ashes.
She spies glistening gems that survived and pockets them for evaluation.
She pulls them out later, polishes and assesses them. 
Some items are scraped, smoke-stained... but still priceless. 

She holds these bits in her hands, permanent reminders of the life that was. 
She knows this is why she keeps clearing the rubble. 
She treasures these nuggets of debris that survived.
She will build again, with these, when the foundation is free.

She carts everything else to the landfill. 
When she is done, she stands back and takes it in...
   the foundation is cleared. 

Some stop by to mock her debridement process. 
Some deride her for the very idea that any woman could clear a burn site.
Some ridicule her for getting regular checkups on her burns.

She ignores them and focuses on her work. 
She assesses the slab for cracks.
She meticulously makes repairs.

She makes new friends, with the ones who lend expertise.
Sometimes they sit by the fire as the stars fall, and swap stories about their own house fires and the ensuing process of debridement and assessment and rebuilding.

She finds the stories healing to hear. 

She's still tired at the end of each day, but she's happier than before.
Her blisters have healed into calluses.
Her legs are strong and wiry now.
Her stamina has improved.
She can breathe and bend and squat and lift.

She looks at her scars sometimes.
Each one traces a storyline deep in her soul.

She calls an architect.
She brings a pocketful of smoke-stained gems to their meeting.

"I want these to inspire the new build.
These are the pieces worth saving from my past.
These are the elements that survived.
They need to be showcased in the design."

She invites friends over, when the house is done.
Friends whose houses have burned down.
Friends who need to wash off the soot and ashes of their own.
Friends who feel completely inadequate to clear their own rubble.

She sets aside a few days a month to visit other burn sites.
She keeps a bag stocked with extra gloves, boots, and burn cream.
She knows they won't have any on hand, not while they're staring at the ashes in shock.

She washes their burns, and asks if they've been to the doctor yet.
She listens by their fire, and shares her own stories when they're ready to hear.
She tells them they can clear and rebuild if they choose. 
She pulls gems from her pocket, and says they should keep an eye out for their own.

She knows.
She's lived it.

That's why they listen.

Which FREE Resource Do You Need Right Now?

• 7 Questions to Ask a New Counselor

• Is My Husband a Sex Addict? - take the quiz

• Are My Resources Safe? - take the quiz

• TraumaMAMAs mobile app - download here

• Support groups - choose one here

Seasons of Healing After Abuse | Workshop with Sarah McDugal

In this workshop, Coach Sarah McDugal teaches you how to map your post-trauma journey, and launches you on the path to:

• reclaim your voice from the silence.

• embrace your identity as a survivor, not a victim.

• recognize patterns of harm.

• pierce the fog of cognitive dissonance.

• live in radical commitment to truth.

• take back control of your choices.

• find purpose in the pain.

• build new patterns.

If you are wondering how to know what season of healing you're in right now, and which resources are best for this season, this workshop offers clarity and next steps.

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