body memory

I read a book about a woman recovering from a rape (Telling a Memoir or Rape and Recovery - Patricia Francisco Weaver). It was set it my neighborhood. I would never choose such a book. It is strange how just reading about rape makes it seem more likely, makes me put the chain lock on our door at night. A woman in my discussion group said that if nothing else our group was worth it just for having made her read the book. For her though the story was a reflection of her own past. For me the echoes came from the trauma of childbirth. I have suffered very little bodily harm in my thirty years. I can remember cutting my hand on a tin can and bleeding, I was home alone and called a medical student friend. I knew I was interrupting a romantic evening. I knew rationally that you dont die of tin can cuts. I almost fainted sitting there alone with a was of toilet paper on my hand, my eyes teared up. Just to know the threat of bodily harm shakes the soul. After Byrd was born I had violent childbirth dreams. I cried. I thought about the labor and felt angry. With some time and reflection I realize that any birth (sort of like any childhood and any parents) would have probably left me angry. There are few right answers, many choices, countless risks. Eight months later I am angry that I had to be induced and could not just wait for my body to go into labor. And I am angry that the midwife would not let me change pushing positions. I kept saying that I wanted to get on all fours. She had me on my back, knees held to my ears. It is a position of powerlessness and straight uncomfortable. But I also know there could be many worse midwives and that many doctors would have induced me in a more violent (i.e., fast) way and maybe moved towards C-sec or a vacuum. There are a few gifted baby deliverers out there, and like most things there are many mediocre people out there.

What really got me about the book about recovery from rape was that we have thought memory, things we can articulate, narratives. And we have body memory. When Weaver had her child the labor brought on unexpected flashbacks to her rape. Not memories or reminders, but her flesh and blood relived moments of the attack. Her recovery seemed to be a journey of stumbling that really found some release ten years later with massage that lead to bodywork.

Body memories I am aware of for myself include how I feel when I am in my hometown and my recent fainting spells. When I return to my childhood town I am taller, I am more confident, I have a sure sense of myself in the world. These trips are often stressful and force revisiting of emotionally difficult family and all the mess of childhood and my parents' divorces. Even still, I walk taller, my feet know the ground, I breath lighter.

I have always had some fainting spells, postpartum they became daily or weekly. The waves of fainting come when I am tired, standing, nervous, talking to people, around work people, in places I feel trapped, hungry. Each time they occur it multiplies the experience of fearing them, thinking about them. My body remembers feeling faint standing talking to a professor at a party and so the next time....and the next time...I feel trapped in this cycle and I have not found resolution. When I read this book I wanted to run out for bodywork, but I dont know what kind or where to go.