Enough For Now

As I moved through my journey and sought clarity on what happened to me, how it impacted my life, and how I could respond, I often found myself thinking, “enough, that’s enough for now.” I didn’t realise then that this thought was more universal than just my experience. In healing, sometimes one step is all that’s needed for now; then it’s the next step, and then the one after that. Not all at once—sometimes, they’re jumbled together, creating a chaotic mess that obscures the bigger picture. These moments can bring tears, prompting retreat into the safety of silence. I’d need space and time to nurture and love myself, acknowledging and grieving for that child within me, who didn’t feel she had the power or choice to say, “That’s enough! Forever, let alone for now”.

From the moment that child was abused, with no one to tell about it, is the moment she understood there was no one to protect her. – Dr Steven Levenkron

The cleansing and clarifying journey of recovery requires us to honour that brave child and all the other versions we became: the adolescent, young adult, and roles beyond those decades of life that a survivor has navigated the best they could. Eventually, exploring and expressing our truths becomes easier without feeling the urge to retreat, yet still, the words “Enough For Now” rise and are worthy of attention.

One morning in November 2020, the words “Enough For Now” emerged for me as I was journalling, and the pen just kept going, capturing this essence.

Enough For Now

Barefoot on soft, dewy grass,
Toes and soles feeling held, then released.
The morning sun not yet revealing itself.
The lake shrouded in mist, soundlessly rising—
Rising to greet the day, then dissipate and be gone.

The lake’s surface a dark mirror,
So dark it will not divulge what lies beneath.

She sits at the lake’s edge and stirs the water gently; a ripple begins.
Its boundaries are perfect, expanding a little way before disappearing.
A morning bird’s sweet song drifts across the lake, echoing,
Then fades into silence.

She peers at the surface and smiles, witnessing
Shimmering reflections of all the versions of herself.

Little her, age seven, playing with dolls,
Her cat purrs, snuggling into her dressing gown.
Innocent and pure, she feels the love of those
Who cherish her.

A dark shadow passes over, and the image recedes.
The shadow remains, no matter where she looks,
Confusing and bruising, shortening her breath;
She wants to run and hide, to let flow a waterfall of tears.

The image shifts like a kaleidoscope of dark, gaudy colours,
Feelings she barely understands.

Then, a pause, a glimpse of a wise elderly woman,
Did she recognise her from a deep dream?
The woman gazes gently into her eyes, reassuring,
Shaking her head, whispering, “No, it’s safe now. You are safe now. No more.”
Then she’s gone.

Flicks of 1970s bangs frame the face of a 13-year-old girl,
Newly a teen, yet sexualised at eight.
A suburban girl, trying to appear confident,
Yet feeling the weight of fear tight in her belly.
Always covering it with false bravado,
Numbing unwelcome touches, sensations, and feelings.

Morning glows with orange, lemon, and pink,
Sunlight tipping over treetops.
The girl in the water looks joyful,
Love radiating from her reflection—
A beautiful man beside her,
Together creating three sweet girls,
Safe and whole in their new family.
Yet flickers of dark images keep her alert,
The shadow of shame still lurking, staining the edges of her life.

Something happens!
She leaps to her feet,
Her image at 29 roaring like a lioness.
No one has ever heard such a roar.
Though it cannot be heard across the lake,
It resonates with those who need to feel its intensity.
Some who looked up did so blindly,
Did not act to help.

She awakens to the work of a change-maker,
Standing tall, refusing to be pulled into the muck of her past.
She is free, she is strong,
Ready to see the good in life,
If only the bad can be let go.
She leaves the rat race of suburban life,
Opening herself to new experiences.

She listens to words and gossip shared,
Trying not to feel the daggers,
But it’s a tall order.
Determined, she commits to making change,
Finding her way through wins and losses,
Always growing.

Much later, she realises she has become a high achiever,
Determined to prove she is deserving of good.
No longer one of them.
Successful, she learns, challenges, grows,
Yet feels unfulfilled.

Tired, she lowers herself down,
Now almost fifty, still holding her past tightly inside.
Her children safe and grown,
Living a rich life full of travel.
She learns about ego, its drive to work harder,
Feeling the burn-out and cold fear of failure,
The stress that looms.

Once again, she summons her courage and resilience,
Drawing on her close confidant—a coach—
Living in a new, more authentic, fulfilling way.

Ahhh, a gentle breeze catches her hair,
And the mist rises from the lake,
Burning off in the bright morning sun.
She smiles at her reflection,
At all those versions of herself,
Each shaping who she is today.

At some point, the decision had to come:
It was time.
The work she has done, and continues to do,
Is her full discovery of self,
Of her true self,
Her loving inner child,
Her brave teen,
All she has stood for against the dark,
Refusing to compromise her soul.

This isn’t about finding a new false self,
Or wearing a shiny white smile for the world.
It’s about accepting, through knowledge and exploration,
The parts damaged by her abuser,
And all that the abuse caused over the years.

It will involve shedding deeply held tears,
Raging against the unfairness of what was taken,
Thrown away greedily by her abuser,
Who never grasped the damage done,
Nor the impact on so many lives.

She knows she cannot change another person.
She can only be a role model of what is good,
Joyful and creative, intelligent and giving.
She focuses on that,
Taking her message to the world,
Sharing her story,
Speaking about this unspoken taboo,
So that one survivor at a time
Knows they are not alone,
That they are not to blame,
And that there is hope and safe paths to explore,
Helping them become whole
And contribute positively to the world.

She is aware that children are watching, listening,
Those who will one day become parents.
By setting this example,
She hopes to ensure that their children
Are safe at home and away,
Loved unconditionally.

Turning her back to the lake,
She is confident in her desire
And vision for a life reflecting the light
That shines within her.

Feeling another shift in the breeze,
She knows today a strong wind will pass over the lake,
Concealing its depths for another time.

That’s okay.
She knows the day is hers,
To step into with a smile, love, and laughter.

She has freed herself from the guilt,
The self-blame and the shame
That were never hers to bear,
Yet she carried alone for so many years.

She understands that she has kept that young child’s
Hypervigilance and need for safety,
The survivor’s desire for validation,
Long after those feelings were truly necessary.

She feels the remnants of those old feelings,
Like a shrouded chain-mail cloak.
A cloak that weighed her down,
Yet shielded her from more harm.

Over the years, she has loosened parts of that cloak,
Grown stronger,
So that now, it barely clings to her shoulders.

With clarity, peace, and calm,
She undoes the tie around her neck,
And with a swift shrug,
The cloak falls into the lake,
Creating the biggest ripples she has ever seen.

In awe, she watches them spread
As far as the distant shore.
The surface closes,
Now dark and unfathomable,
Her cloak of guilt, self-blame, and shame
Forever lost in its depths.

It has become a beautiful day,
Full of potential.

Starting small, creatively and joyfully,
She can be the catalyst
For making big, good things happen.

And that’s where she begins her day anew,
Revitalised,
Knowing it’s about taking baby steps,
One after another,
Loving herself and those who love her as she is.

That’s more than enough for now.

[From Alice’s Journal, 16 November 2020]