My knees seem like a weird place to begin....
but they have such a powerful story that they revealed to me four years ago which offered such a beautiful reminder that trauma has no timeline.
My knees first began to whisper me awake in couple’s counseling. When our therapist would prompt my husband to make contact with my body, he would ask where to place his hands. And it was my knees that were always screaming for his attention. I remember thinking how weird this was, how weird I was. His touch reminded me of sitting in the front seat as a child when my mom would reach over and squeeze my left knee as a sign of love
Instead of dismissing these whispers, I let them draw me in deeper.
Using expressive art specifically paints and chalk pastels, my knees began to appear in imagery beckoning me deeper into self-exploration. It was in my therapist’s office where my knees would open a portal to healing trauma that had been trapped for two decades.
If my knees had a voice they would tell you how much energy lay trapped inside of them all those years.
They would tell you how desperately they wanted to kick but instead were frozen in fear.
It was my knees that helped me piece together a sexual assault at aged 17 that I had always dismissed as a shameful personal mistake. For years I could recount the details in an almost neutral way but it was as though my mind and body were disconnected.
Through my own healing and remothering I would build the bridge back home to my body and create the inner safety and resources to finally hold the 17 year old within and give her all the validation, comfort and love that she needed then.
My knees are kind of the bees knees. They set me free from something that lay trapped, inaccessible to me, for TWO decades.
Now I honor my knees my creating space for them to kick wildly when I dance, a joyfilled release of the fiery rage that lives within me for every human who lay frozen in terror unable to kick there way to freedom.