My own journey to heal my childhood trauma has convinced me that everything happens for a reason. Especially when it’s random. So when I ended up with this shit ton of stones in my own backyard, and had no good explanation as to how it all happened, I knew that something was up.
It all started one chaotic morning as my son prepared to leave home after having spent some time quarantining during the pandemic. He had invited a few friends over for a final goodbye breakfast. So my anxiety level was quite high, not only because of the sadness around his departure, but also because I had company over. As a child, I was always petrified to invite anyone over for fear that my drunk father would show up.
Then my neighbour texted asking to borrow a wheelbarrow. In my need to escape the discomfort I was feeling that morning, I brought over my gardening cart. It was nowhere near what they required for the task at hand because they needed something to unearth and then move the tons of stone from their backyard to a large dumpster that was now sitting in their driveway. They were looking for a change.
And that’s when it all went so horribly wrong!
And they jokingly offered me some stones. After a bit of hesitation, I agreed to take a few flagstones. And when I learned that the rest of the stones were being moved to the dumpster, I thought that maybe I could ask to take a bit more of a different stone. And that’s when it all went so horribly wrong! If I wanted more stones, I was told that I had to take all of the stones. It became an all or nothing situation. And I had to decide at that moment. I had no time to think, no time to react.
So I ran back to my house where my son was sitting with his friends. And in a desperate voice, I almost pleaded with him to make a decision for me about these stones because I was in no position to make it on my own. My son looked up at me in bewilderment. He was just trying to enjoy his last morning with his friends before saying goodbye. He had no idea that his mother was trying to find her voice. He had no idea that his mother was fighting for her life. And in that moment, all he could say was, “Do what you want Mom.”
So I did what I learned to do at a very young age to escape any dangerous situation when I saw no way out. I dissociated. I left my body.
And now, I was right back there again. I had been triggered. And my only response was to freeze. This situation was taking me back to a time in my childhood when I was forced to do something that I didn’t want to do because I had no voice, and no choice, but to give in. I knew that I didn’t want all these stones. I only wanted some. But I felt like these stones were being forced upon me somehow. And I couldn’t find the words to stop it from happening. So I did what I learned to do at a very young age to escape any dangerous situation when I saw no way out. I dissociated. I left my body. And I agreed to take all of the stones. Because I saw no way out. Because I had no words to stop it. Because I had no one to help me.
And the phone call was made. The dumpster would be returned, and now I was in the process of helping my neighbour move, what turned out to be, a store load of stones. They first had to be unburied, then relocated to my own backyard. I had no idea what I had just got myself into. And when I tried to back out, and stop what I had just agreed to, it was too late. I had made my decision, and the dumpster had left.
So for the next few hours, I helped my neighbour move every single patio stone, edging stone and flagstone they owned. It was now all mine. I was in complete shock. Why was this happening? Why did I let them talk me into it? Why couldn’t I stop them? How could I have agreed to this on the day that my son was leaving? Why wouldn’t my son help me? And how could I be so stupid?
I have been in recovery long enough to know that this all meant something. I had this sick feeling deep in the pit of my stomach, but something told me not to go there. It was too deep, and too painful. I also knew that I’ve been here before. Something had been forced upon me like these stones just were. And it was heavy. Very heavy.
And as she left with the final two stones in her hands, she turned to me in exhaustion and said, “I didn’t know there was this much!”
It’s no surprise that the stones sat untouched for a year, but I always knew they were there because they continued to bother me. And finally, a few weeks ago, I began to feel the urge to move the stones out. It was time. They had sat long enough. I first tried to sell them, but had no luck. Then I became desperate. I have never wanted to get rid of something so heavy, so fast, so I offered all of it for free online. And I had one stipulation for the taker. It had to be all or nothing.
I found a lady who agreed to take the stones, and it took her family several trips over a few days to remove all of them. And as she left with the final two stones in her hands, she turned to me in exhaustion and said, “I didn’t know there was this much!”
And neither did I. The day she left with the last few stones was the day that I recovered a deep, dark and painful memory that added another piece to the puzzle of my own sex trafficking story that I had kept buried for a long time. It was a secret from my childhood that I had never, ever wanted to know.
And when the burden of those heavy stones had finally lifted, it also uncovered the emotions of shame, fear, loneliness and grief that I had buried with this horrific childhood memory. And in order for me to fully heal from this memory, I needed to feel all of these emotions, and that meant processing each and every one of them. And it was heavy. Very heavy. Now I know why there was this much.