TILT Stinks

Tilt took his first trip out into the community.  When someone thought a kid made it, I felt so honored.  In my pursuit to become more loving of God and people, I hope I never lose my childlike faith and creativity.  I was also told by a young girl that my trauma informed life stories were too long.  This wasn’t the first time I’ve been told that I talk too much.  We can learn so much from people who are younger and older than us.  How do you open yourself up to receiving feedback?

                Although I was rather compliant as a boy, I didn’t always listen to my parents when they talked.  I vaguely remember all the danger warnings from my overprotective parents, but heeding their warnings didn’t always happen.  One day I was out playing by a country road, and I fell in the sewer.  Covered with crap and smelling worse than a pig, I dragged my 3-year-old, full-of-it body back to where I knew I was in trouble.  My smells, the scolding I got from my parents, and my relatives laughing their heads off at me made me feel so ashamed and so humiliated.  I began to feel bad and like there was something wrong with me.  I also became extremely sensitive to smells that set off all sorts of triggers.  I think that’s when I started becoming overly sensitive and always wanted to be clean and look good when I was around people to avoid feeling rejected.  It may sound crazy, but when my breath stinks, I feel so disgusted that I run in and brush my teeth. 

                Now I was on a roll.  Every time we would go see my relatives, they would laugh their heads off at me retelling the stories of when I knocked my teeth out and when I fell in the sewer.  This little three-year-old boy was on the fast track to being trauma informed.  Self-contempt was starting to grow.  Feeling “unsafe” wasn’t a far cry from the truth.  My distaste for course jesting, making fun of people, and sitcoms can be traced way back to my early childhood shaming experiences.  Whenever I hear people at work, church, home, community, using sarcasm and laughing at people, my anger gets triggered, and I want to yell or hide.  That’s when it’s really hard for me to love people deeply from my heart.

                The Good news is that God still loves me, and He’s not finished with me.  He’s redeemed my past, and now I can freely share my life stories whenever God gives me the nudge.  Becoming more trauma informed can help us see, feel, and understand more than others.  I think if we become more open to sharing our life stories and creating safe places where we can be known and loved, our parts of the world will become a safer place to experiment, create, and learn from our failures. 

What are some of the lessons your learned from your early childhood?

Have you invited God into those places?

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