Recently, I went through another form of healing called Accelerated Resolution Therapy. I was told to choose a traumatic moment from my past to revisit. The process illustrated how powerful our brains are, because as you go back to the traumatic moment in your mind, your brain knows exactly what to do.

So, I went back and I saw her sitting on the floor next to the tall dresser, knees up by her face, arms hugging her legs, face resting on her knees, crying. I felt a lump in my throat as I watched the scene play out. He was yelling at her, pointing his finger at her, telling her what a disappointment she was. His face was red and the room smelled like Miller Lite even though he was across the room in the doorway. She wanted to scream back at him and tell him to SHUT UP! She wanted to get up, push him out of the way, run down the hallway, and leave the house.

The lump in my throat wouldn’t leave.

My brain was trying to tell my body, my memories, and my fears to let go. There was an intense battle playing out as the wand in front of my face moved back and forth prompting me to revisit the scene again.

The scene quickly changed and I saw her standing in front of the wood stove. This time, a woman was yelling at her, telling her to get away from the hot stove, shaking her head back and forth in disgust. Just as my younger self was about to lean on the stove I felt a hard smack across my face. The woman yelled, “I told you to STAY AWAY FROM THE STOVE!”

My face felt hot and my throat was still unwilling to release it’s hold on the words that I wanted to scream.

The directions now were to visit a scene in my past where I was happy. Immediately, I thought of the dock next to the willow tree where my five year old self used to fish, alone, early in the morning.

“Now, picture him there with you and allow him to join you in that happy scene.”

I fought this too. I wanted to keep him away from all of my happy scenes. He didn’t deserve to be there. The intense battle in my mind returned and my brain was telling me to let him in.

“If you create a scene where there is trust, and maybe forgiveness, you might be able to move toward trust in the present.”

My brain won as I pictured him standing next to me. I heard him tell me he loved me. I responded in my mind with, “right now you do, but I won’t let you love me forever.” I was prompted to picture other people he hurt, and then to picture him loving them too. I laughed at that but my brain allowed it anyway. He cupped her face in his hands and told her he loved her.

“Now we will choose a scene to replace the first scene we visited.”

My brain took me to the Redwood Forest. My arms were stretched out as far as they could go, across the span of the tree, and they didn’t even cover half of its width. I was smiling and I felt free.

“Place that memory where the first scene took place.”

The massive redwood tree transported us to the place where I sat on the floor next to the tall dresser. I watched her stand up, push him out of the way, run down the hallway, and leave the house. She went back to the dock to pick up the little girl who was fishing. Her mom’s hand and her sister’s hand joined my hands as they ran away from the dock together. They stopped at the house with the wood stove to invite the girl who was about to get smacked.

“Ok, now we are going to erase the first scene.”

My brain did it as it was told and saw the tip of the wand as an eraser. The eraser moved back and forth, back and forth, as it removed the scene from my brain. The room, the dresser, the pointed finger, the smell of Miller Lite, the tears… gone. They have been erased.

We painted it my favorite color, and then we inserted the Redwood Forest scene in its place.

Rebelliously, I woke up this morning and tried to un-do it all. I tried to go back to see if the dresser scene was still gone. It has definitely been erased, for good.

I thanked God for designing our brains with the ability to erase traumatic scenes in order to heal. I smiled at the little girl fishing on the dock. I also smiled at the little girl who was whisked away from the hot wood stove. I allowed my brain to travel with them, hand in hand, through the Redwood Forest happy, free, and able to trust again.