Laura Davis' compelling story will inspire you to think back to a time you, too, found the courage to act. Recalling your own past courage will give you the strength necessary to face a dangerous, uncertain world today.
I remember when I first bought your book, many years ago. Thank you for your hard work.
I’m a fellow incest survivor and have been trying to write my way through it for almost 30 years now.
Recently, I got a middle-aged plot twist.
I was contacted by an investigator on behalf of a childhood classmate who filed suit against our elementary school teacher under the NY State Child Victims Act.
This has triggered what I call “Round 2” for me. My whole autobiography has been upended AGAIN.
I feel as if my entire story has taken on another dimension. Like I’m trying to solve a multidimensional puzzle.
It’s complicated. I wrote two posts about it on one of my stacks here.
At first, I was totally dissociated. I was even joking that I finally figured out why I’m tone deaf (it was the music teacher).
I didn’t go into PTSD mode until they had me identify him in a faculty photograph.
One thing I became fixated on was who offended first? The teacher or my father? Perhaps some part of me wanted to think the teacher came first. That perhaps I had enacted the abuse with my father while he was high (not that this would exonerate my father, but the mind wanted to soften things).
I’m still in the thick of it. My testimony dragged the case over the finish line. But the law firm was horrible. And my former classmate is too traumatized to speak with me but hopes to do so in the future. I’m desperate for her to fill in missing pieces. I feel exploited.
Despite everything, I am still glad I participated in the investigation & would do so again. It was the right thing to do, but it is too late for me bc the law closed for filing in 2021.
I’m very frustrated because I had believed I had worked through everything over the last 3 decades. Plus, I no longer know how to structure my memoir. It feels like there’s too much trauma for one book. I’m angry that this has impacted so much of my life & my family’s.
What was different yet parallel this time: my mother rejected me in round 1. And the “mother” I want now is my retired therapist. She retired 5.5 years ago, but she had treated me for 20 years. She did see me for a session, and intellectually, I know she hasn’t abandoned me, but IT FEELS like an abandonment.
Anyway, back in therapy again with a new person. I’ve become curious about using psychedelics for memory retrieval, but both my former and current therapists advised against this for now.
Curious if you know anything about psychedelics. There’s a new memoir out called “The Tell” that explores one survivor’s use of ketamine.
I've heard of so many survivors being traumatized by lawsuits even when they won or were vindicated. The law certainly is not interested in anyone's psychological well being. I can understand why going through this led to a new round of healing-as we called it--another trip on the healing spiral. I know it can feel like you're back where you started, but I believe we keep making progress on an upward healing trajectory.
In terms of psychedelics, I've heard them used successfully for all kinds of PTSD, by not specifically for child sexual abuse.
I worked in the field of child sexual abuse for years; first in a refuge for female adolescent survivors, then with mothers who discovered that their child had been abused by a close family member, and then with incest offenders. Most recently, I published my first novel, which exposes how bishops in the Australian Catholic Church strategised and covered up clergy sexual abuse of minors. I am full of admiration for you, Laura, for the courage and grit you demonstrated in the face of the horror you experienced, not only from the abuse but from the denials and anger from others when the abuse was disclosed. For those abused by priests and brothers, there is the further dimension of a Church, a hierarchy, that betrayed them and often a loss of faith as a consequence. We must all be vigilant because sexual abuse is still happening, and the cover-ups are still happening. How wonderful that you can bring your knowledge and advocacy here to Substack. I'm so glad you responded to my Note and that I learned about your newsletter :-) I've taken up enough space, so I'll save my 'grit' story for another time!
Kisane, thank you so much for the critical and important work you are doing. And for taking the time to write to me today.
Survivors need advocates like you. And I hope your storytelling, through your novel, gives more courage and inspiration to even more survivors. Our stories can reach people and places in ways we may never know directly.
I’d love to hear your grit story either now, here, or at another time. Please keep coming back. You are definitely not taking up too much space!
Laura, this touched me; I’m not certain, but I believe that somehow you must know, that this was, in fact, your hero’s journey. Ellen may have been your oracle, your guide, your muse, but in the Homeric tradition, you lived the dark night, rose from the ash, and transformed agony into art. I know you know how much I can really. And, I no longer feel badly about taking so long to finish my book. I had even considered waiting until my mother had passed; I’m glad I did not.
Laura, this touched me; I’m not certain, but I believe that somehow you must know, that this was, in fact, your hero’s journey. Ellen may have been your oracle, your guide, your muse, but in the Homeric tradition, you lived the dark night, rose from the ash, and transformed agony into art. I know you know how much I can relate. And, I no longer feel badly about taking so long to finish my book. I had even considered waiting until my mother had passed; I’m glad I did not.
yes, I think I’d have to agree with you that that was my heroine‘s journey. Although there are smaller versions that have continued to play out in my life and will do so into the future, probably all the way up until my death. I think that’s part of the growth trajectory we’re on as human beings. But yes, those years in my late 20s and until my mid 30s were a dramatic reshaping of my inner wiring, a substantial and significant break from my family of origin, and the beginning of my adulthood.
I think it's important to outgrow our families of origin, especially when the dysfunction overwhelms us. I was able to recreate and perhaps rediscover whom I was meant to be only after hitting bottom and putting enough distance between my parents and me for the spirit to fill the void. And, I beg your pardon; I should have said "heroine."
I think that’s so individual. It really depends on the person in their family. In my family, there was a lot of good and a lot of dysfunction. I did have to make a complete break in order to establish myself as an autonomous person and to reject the denial and some of the lies in my family. But once I established that separate self, I was able to return for some of the positive aspects.In that I was lucky, and ended up with good relationships with many of the people I had been estranged from. I absolutely know that is not always possible, but I am glad it was in my case.
Laura, this touched me; I’m not certain, but I believe that somehow you must know, that this was, in fact, your hero’s journey. Ellen may have been your oracle, your guide, your muse, but in the Homeric tradition, you lived the dark night, rose from the ash, and transformed agony into art. I know you know how much I can really. And, I no longer feel badly about taking so long to finish my book. I had even considered waiting until my mother had passed; I’m glad I did not.
Laura, thank you for sharing your time of having grit. Thank you for what you have brought into the world with “The Courage to Heal” and for what you are bringing into the world at this time, with your work, with this space in Substack.
Here is my response to the prompt:
I was 22, and had just started my third year of medical school. One morning, I got a phone call, asking whether I’d be able to take on a night shift, to sit with a terminally ill patient at his home. The person calling me knew me, and she was aware that I had been with my mother when she was dying. She had no idea that I knew the patient well. Serendipity?
I had just been asked to sit with my mentor, my teacher - the person who referred to himself as my “doctor father”. An endearing term that spoke about his wish to teach me medicine in the ways that he practised - wholehearted, holding body, mind, soul and spirit.
His name was Gerd. He was in his late seventies, still practising. I had been his intern during the summer before.
That evening, I arrived at his house, was greeted by his family. They were exhausted from sitting with him through many nights.
During my first hours with him, it became obvious that he was in a lot of pain. He could not speak anymore, but his reactions were clear.
There was no pain medication available. Here I was, in the house of a medical doctor, and there was no way to relieve his pain in his last days of life. I knew that the doctor who was treating him thought that pain medication should not be used because it took away the potential of a conscious dying process.
Gerd was clearly suffering, he was in agony.
What did I do? I called his doctor, said that I definitely needed morphine so that he could be free from pain. Prescribing morphine required paperwork (highly restricted medication with a lot of legal hurdles). I knew that she would not be happy with my request… A young student, requesting medication that was outside of the “usual” - and that was “against” her own belief system.
I remember that phone call so clearly. I told her which papers to fill in. I must have been very firm that I would not take no for an answer.
Advocating for my friend felt like stomping my foot on the ground: this was a request that could not be denied.
I would not be left alone again. I had been left alone by another doctor, during the last night with my mother. I would not allow that to happen again.
A raging 22-year-old to be reckoned with.
He made it through that night. I went home in the morning to get a bit of sleep and went back in the late afternoon.
And: I found the morphine on the table - ready to be injected if needed. As if that was the most ordinary in the world…
I sat next to him. Talked to him. When I noticed that he was experiencing a surge of pain, I prepared everything to give him the first morphine injection. I knew that this was the right thing to do. I knew that he would not have wanted to suffer.
I sat with him, and felt how he was slowly leaving his body. I was so grateful to be with him during these hours. Quiet. Close. In peace.
Around 2 am, he took his last breath. I woke up his wife and his children. We sat on the floor, in a circle, next to the bed where his body was, and we shared stories. Stories about him, about his life, serious stories and funny stories.
Those hours belong to the most beautiful hours of my life.
This is such a beautiful story, Michaela. I so appreciate you sharing it with me. Yes, as a 22 year old, you definitely demonstrated grit when you stood up to an authority figure to advocate for your friend and mentor's desire for pain relief when he was dying. And you succeeded! That's just wonderful.
I love this line: "A raging 22-year-old to be reckoned with." I love to imagine you that way.
And the ending, too: "Those hours belong to the most beautiful hours of my life."
Bravo. This reveals so much about your compassion and the depth of who you are.
Laura, I appreciate your humility, however, I believe that your description of your influence is understated.
From my perception, your impact is similar to stellar women like Alice James, Maya Angelou and even Gloria Steinem.
Regarding your request for what helps me with my grit: Your writings and your workbook have helped me develop the clarity and resources to know that regardless of the unknown pain and betrayals to come, I will be able to handle it. Of course, not easily, but it won't destroy me or my essence.
April, I so appreciate your kind and generous words. Part of me acknowledges that the Courage to Heal had incredible significance in so many lives. But sometimes it’s hard to really take that in. I have always felt like Ellen and I were meant to write that book and that that was part of why I was put here on this earth. The thing about writing something that has that kind of reach when you’re as young as I was, is that then you have to figure out what to do with the rest of your life
I understand, esp about the divine feelings that you were meant to write the book. It seems you did quite well figuring out what to do with the rest of your life.
In my opinion, you could have done and still can do whatever you want. (Ex. You can continue to slay dragons and/or you can play with your grandchildren).
One of my favorite quotes is by Alice Walker, "I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it."
You notice. Yet another gift you have given all of us.
Laura, this story – and your mindset underpinning it – is amazing, and the prompt landed deeply for me. A few years ago, I began the long, humbling process of learning to drive as an adult—without financial support and with a mountain of trauma telling me I wasn’t smart or capable enough. What most people accomplish at sixteen took me three years, six instructors, and more courage than I knew I had. I was doubted, yelled at by driving instructors, and ridiculed by people who didn’t understand what it took. But I kept going.
Sometimes grit looks like choosing not to internalize callousness. Sometimes it’s sitting behind the wheel again after your nervous system has been through the wringer. When I wrote about the experience, sharing it felt like claiming a hard-won victory, not just for my license, but for my belief in myself. (https://fanenchiahemen.substack.com/p/when-everyone-says-you-cant-how-to)
Thank you for the invitation to reflect on these quiet, tenacious triumphs.
Fanen, what I so love about your story is that your incredible triumph was with something that is a matter is a fact life passage for most people.
I respect the persistence and courage it took for you to learn to drive, and the way you kept seeking our resources until you found the people who could help you achieve your goal. It’s a perfect example of grit!
What an amazing story and journey! I read Courage to Heal ages ago when I was coming to terms with my own experience. Y was such a brave book and helped so many. I’m not at all surprised that it was difficult to write, but hopefully also deeply healing. 💜
You truly do have a lot of grit, Laura. I too had suppressed memories of childhood sexual abuse by my stepfather and stepbrother. They came back to me in my early 40s. My mother and stepfather and step-siblings were also physically, verbally and emotionally abusive to me and each other throughout my childhood and young adulthood and I have been estranged from the whole family since 2017, by my own choice. And since I made that decision after the memories surfaced and I had help to deal with it all, I have become the healthiest physically and mentally I've ever been, and the happiest and most open-hearted, and completely changed how I am in the world, and how I write and teach.
Amanda, it seems like it may not have been a total surprise considering the overall context of life in your original family. I'm glad you were able to step out of that whole system and set the boundaries you needed to set, and that it freed you to become the person you were meant to be. That's not only good for you and your immediate circle of loved ones now, but for all you serve and teach. I do think we "wounded healers" have a lot of depth and compassion to offer, though I'm not really a big far on that term. I like to just be a human being, no such labels needed.
No not really surprising. I always felt like something wasn’t quite right and then once the memories had resurfaced properly, I realised that I had always known in some way. It was a strange feeling. I know what you mean about that term. I definitely have way more depth and compassion to offer now though. To myself too, whereas I used to give myself the hardest of times.
I can’t say I felt “I had always known” because in my family of origin there was a lot of good and huge family mythology about what a great family we were. I bought into that and in some ways, there was truth to it. Some aspects of what I learned and received in my family have served me in incredibly positive ways. It’s just that the underbelly was completely invisible to me, so I had to work through a lot of shock and denial, as well as the denial of most of my family.
I’ve never confronted them with it. My stepfather died earlier this year. They kept trying to contact me as his time approached but I ignored all attempts. None of us ever had any kind of relationship with each other worth saving so I decided to just leave them all to it and save myself.
Wow Laura. What you’ve been though. Oof. Thank you for sharing so honestly here a bit about your journey. Grit indeed! I think I want to join your Wednesday zoom class. 💕
Thanks, Karen. I so appreciate you taking the time to respond.
I'd love you to join the Wednesday class. It's got a rolling admission policy--it's an ongoing class that meets on Zoom Wednesday mornings 9:30-12:30 Pacific time. People sign up for eight weeks of class at a time and then can renew if it's a good fit. I've got people in there who've been attending for many years, and have had some new folks joining recently. I'd love to have you be part of our community. It's a very intimate and wonderful class, especially now when safe, sacred community is even more important.
Laura, most people respond to a life-shattering setback by binge-eating cereal in bed and ghosting their future. You responded by throwing a PowerPoint dinner party about what to do with your life, landing a book deal, and casually launching—a cultural movement. Who does that? Your ability to turn psychic and emotional collapse into purpose and a bestselling book is nothing short of extraordinary. It’s like your grit has grit. Thank you for reminding us that even in the wreckage, we can still create something that matters, whether small or profound. And for showing us the sheer, unstoppable power of grit.
Mahi, I love your comment and I laughed out loud at "binge-eating cereal in bed" and "your grit has grit." I'm still laughing and it's not even 6:30 in the morning!
Oh...and this was before power point was invented. I just checked with Doctor Google. Powerpoint was invented in 1987. And this meeting was probably in 1984. I used a flip chart and markers for my presentation.
Laura, I’m delighted (and impressed) that I made you laugh at 6:30 AM before coffee! And thank you for the correction, yes, flip charts and markers make the whole process even more iconic. There’s something almost poetic about mapping out “What am I going to do with my life?” in bold marker strokes, flip charts and a dinner audience. Flip charts and grit: a bold pairing for brave beginnings.
I remember when I first bought your book, many years ago. Thank you for your hard work.
I’m a fellow incest survivor and have been trying to write my way through it for almost 30 years now.
Recently, I got a middle-aged plot twist.
I was contacted by an investigator on behalf of a childhood classmate who filed suit against our elementary school teacher under the NY State Child Victims Act.
This has triggered what I call “Round 2” for me. My whole autobiography has been upended AGAIN.
I feel as if my entire story has taken on another dimension. Like I’m trying to solve a multidimensional puzzle.
A "middle-aged plot twist." That's an apt description of what happened to you. How have the new revelations influenced your view of your story?
It’s complicated. I wrote two posts about it on one of my stacks here.
At first, I was totally dissociated. I was even joking that I finally figured out why I’m tone deaf (it was the music teacher).
I didn’t go into PTSD mode until they had me identify him in a faculty photograph.
One thing I became fixated on was who offended first? The teacher or my father? Perhaps some part of me wanted to think the teacher came first. That perhaps I had enacted the abuse with my father while he was high (not that this would exonerate my father, but the mind wanted to soften things).
I’m still in the thick of it. My testimony dragged the case over the finish line. But the law firm was horrible. And my former classmate is too traumatized to speak with me but hopes to do so in the future. I’m desperate for her to fill in missing pieces. I feel exploited.
Despite everything, I am still glad I participated in the investigation & would do so again. It was the right thing to do, but it is too late for me bc the law closed for filing in 2021.
I’m very frustrated because I had believed I had worked through everything over the last 3 decades. Plus, I no longer know how to structure my memoir. It feels like there’s too much trauma for one book. I’m angry that this has impacted so much of my life & my family’s.
What was different yet parallel this time: my mother rejected me in round 1. And the “mother” I want now is my retired therapist. She retired 5.5 years ago, but she had treated me for 20 years. She did see me for a session, and intellectually, I know she hasn’t abandoned me, but IT FEELS like an abandonment.
Anyway, back in therapy again with a new person. I’ve become curious about using psychedelics for memory retrieval, but both my former and current therapists advised against this for now.
Curious if you know anything about psychedelics. There’s a new memoir out called “The Tell” that explores one survivor’s use of ketamine.
I've heard of so many survivors being traumatized by lawsuits even when they won or were vindicated. The law certainly is not interested in anyone's psychological well being. I can understand why going through this led to a new round of healing-as we called it--another trip on the healing spiral. I know it can feel like you're back where you started, but I believe we keep making progress on an upward healing trajectory.
In terms of psychedelics, I've heard them used successfully for all kinds of PTSD, by not specifically for child sexual abuse.
Wishing you courage in this new round of healing.
Thank you, Laura
I worked in the field of child sexual abuse for years; first in a refuge for female adolescent survivors, then with mothers who discovered that their child had been abused by a close family member, and then with incest offenders. Most recently, I published my first novel, which exposes how bishops in the Australian Catholic Church strategised and covered up clergy sexual abuse of minors. I am full of admiration for you, Laura, for the courage and grit you demonstrated in the face of the horror you experienced, not only from the abuse but from the denials and anger from others when the abuse was disclosed. For those abused by priests and brothers, there is the further dimension of a Church, a hierarchy, that betrayed them and often a loss of faith as a consequence. We must all be vigilant because sexual abuse is still happening, and the cover-ups are still happening. How wonderful that you can bring your knowledge and advocacy here to Substack. I'm so glad you responded to my Note and that I learned about your newsletter :-) I've taken up enough space, so I'll save my 'grit' story for another time!
Kisane, thank you so much for the critical and important work you are doing. And for taking the time to write to me today.
Survivors need advocates like you. And I hope your storytelling, through your novel, gives more courage and inspiration to even more survivors. Our stories can reach people and places in ways we may never know directly.
I’d love to hear your grit story either now, here, or at another time. Please keep coming back. You are definitely not taking up too much space!
Laura, this touched me; I’m not certain, but I believe that somehow you must know, that this was, in fact, your hero’s journey. Ellen may have been your oracle, your guide, your muse, but in the Homeric tradition, you lived the dark night, rose from the ash, and transformed agony into art. I know you know how much I can really. And, I no longer feel badly about taking so long to finish my book. I had even considered waiting until my mother had passed; I’m glad I did not.
Laura, this touched me; I’m not certain, but I believe that somehow you must know, that this was, in fact, your hero’s journey. Ellen may have been your oracle, your guide, your muse, but in the Homeric tradition, you lived the dark night, rose from the ash, and transformed agony into art. I know you know how much I can relate. And, I no longer feel badly about taking so long to finish my book. I had even considered waiting until my mother had passed; I’m glad I did not.
yes, I think I’d have to agree with you that that was my heroine‘s journey. Although there are smaller versions that have continued to play out in my life and will do so into the future, probably all the way up until my death. I think that’s part of the growth trajectory we’re on as human beings. But yes, those years in my late 20s and until my mid 30s were a dramatic reshaping of my inner wiring, a substantial and significant break from my family of origin, and the beginning of my adulthood.
I think it's important to outgrow our families of origin, especially when the dysfunction overwhelms us. I was able to recreate and perhaps rediscover whom I was meant to be only after hitting bottom and putting enough distance between my parents and me for the spirit to fill the void. And, I beg your pardon; I should have said "heroine."
I think that’s so individual. It really depends on the person in their family. In my family, there was a lot of good and a lot of dysfunction. I did have to make a complete break in order to establish myself as an autonomous person and to reject the denial and some of the lies in my family. But once I established that separate self, I was able to return for some of the positive aspects.In that I was lucky, and ended up with good relationships with many of the people I had been estranged from. I absolutely know that is not always possible, but I am glad it was in my case.
Laura, this touched me; I’m not certain, but I believe that somehow you must know, that this was, in fact, your hero’s journey. Ellen may have been your oracle, your guide, your muse, but in the Homeric tradition, you lived the dark night, rose from the ash, and transformed agony into art. I know you know how much I can really. And, I no longer feel badly about taking so long to finish my book. I had even considered waiting until my mother had passed; I’m glad I did not.
Laura, thank you for sharing your time of having grit. Thank you for what you have brought into the world with “The Courage to Heal” and for what you are bringing into the world at this time, with your work, with this space in Substack.
Here is my response to the prompt:
I was 22, and had just started my third year of medical school. One morning, I got a phone call, asking whether I’d be able to take on a night shift, to sit with a terminally ill patient at his home. The person calling me knew me, and she was aware that I had been with my mother when she was dying. She had no idea that I knew the patient well. Serendipity?
I had just been asked to sit with my mentor, my teacher - the person who referred to himself as my “doctor father”. An endearing term that spoke about his wish to teach me medicine in the ways that he practised - wholehearted, holding body, mind, soul and spirit.
His name was Gerd. He was in his late seventies, still practising. I had been his intern during the summer before.
That evening, I arrived at his house, was greeted by his family. They were exhausted from sitting with him through many nights.
During my first hours with him, it became obvious that he was in a lot of pain. He could not speak anymore, but his reactions were clear.
There was no pain medication available. Here I was, in the house of a medical doctor, and there was no way to relieve his pain in his last days of life. I knew that the doctor who was treating him thought that pain medication should not be used because it took away the potential of a conscious dying process.
Gerd was clearly suffering, he was in agony.
What did I do? I called his doctor, said that I definitely needed morphine so that he could be free from pain. Prescribing morphine required paperwork (highly restricted medication with a lot of legal hurdles). I knew that she would not be happy with my request… A young student, requesting medication that was outside of the “usual” - and that was “against” her own belief system.
I remember that phone call so clearly. I told her which papers to fill in. I must have been very firm that I would not take no for an answer.
Advocating for my friend felt like stomping my foot on the ground: this was a request that could not be denied.
I would not be left alone again. I had been left alone by another doctor, during the last night with my mother. I would not allow that to happen again.
A raging 22-year-old to be reckoned with.
He made it through that night. I went home in the morning to get a bit of sleep and went back in the late afternoon.
And: I found the morphine on the table - ready to be injected if needed. As if that was the most ordinary in the world…
I sat next to him. Talked to him. When I noticed that he was experiencing a surge of pain, I prepared everything to give him the first morphine injection. I knew that this was the right thing to do. I knew that he would not have wanted to suffer.
I sat with him, and felt how he was slowly leaving his body. I was so grateful to be with him during these hours. Quiet. Close. In peace.
Around 2 am, he took his last breath. I woke up his wife and his children. We sat on the floor, in a circle, next to the bed where his body was, and we shared stories. Stories about him, about his life, serious stories and funny stories.
Those hours belong to the most beautiful hours of my life.
This is such a beautiful story, Michaela. I so appreciate you sharing it with me. Yes, as a 22 year old, you definitely demonstrated grit when you stood up to an authority figure to advocate for your friend and mentor's desire for pain relief when he was dying. And you succeeded! That's just wonderful.
I love this line: "A raging 22-year-old to be reckoned with." I love to imagine you that way.
And the ending, too: "Those hours belong to the most beautiful hours of my life."
Bravo. This reveals so much about your compassion and the depth of who you are.
Laura, I appreciate your humility, however, I believe that your description of your influence is understated.
From my perception, your impact is similar to stellar women like Alice James, Maya Angelou and even Gloria Steinem.
Regarding your request for what helps me with my grit: Your writings and your workbook have helped me develop the clarity and resources to know that regardless of the unknown pain and betrayals to come, I will be able to handle it. Of course, not easily, but it won't destroy me or my essence.
From a very sacred part of my heart: Thank you.
April, I so appreciate your kind and generous words. Part of me acknowledges that the Courage to Heal had incredible significance in so many lives. But sometimes it’s hard to really take that in. I have always felt like Ellen and I were meant to write that book and that that was part of why I was put here on this earth. The thing about writing something that has that kind of reach when you’re as young as I was, is that then you have to figure out what to do with the rest of your life
I understand, esp about the divine feelings that you were meant to write the book. It seems you did quite well figuring out what to do with the rest of your life.
In my opinion, you could have done and still can do whatever you want. (Ex. You can continue to slay dragons and/or you can play with your grandchildren).
One of my favorite quotes is by Alice Walker, "I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it."
You notice. Yet another gift you have given all of us.
love the Alice Walker poem. I’m going to use it in one of my Notes. since I spent the day in a purple flower filled field!
Laura, this story – and your mindset underpinning it – is amazing, and the prompt landed deeply for me. A few years ago, I began the long, humbling process of learning to drive as an adult—without financial support and with a mountain of trauma telling me I wasn’t smart or capable enough. What most people accomplish at sixteen took me three years, six instructors, and more courage than I knew I had. I was doubted, yelled at by driving instructors, and ridiculed by people who didn’t understand what it took. But I kept going.
Sometimes grit looks like choosing not to internalize callousness. Sometimes it’s sitting behind the wheel again after your nervous system has been through the wringer. When I wrote about the experience, sharing it felt like claiming a hard-won victory, not just for my license, but for my belief in myself. (https://fanenchiahemen.substack.com/p/when-everyone-says-you-cant-how-to)
Thank you for the invitation to reflect on these quiet, tenacious triumphs.
Fanen, what I so love about your story is that your incredible triumph was with something that is a matter is a fact life passage for most people.
I respect the persistence and courage it took for you to learn to drive, and the way you kept seeking our resources until you found the people who could help you achieve your goal. It’s a perfect example of grit!
Congratulations on achieving that milestone.
Thank you, I appreciate you seeing that.
What an amazing story and journey! I read Courage to Heal ages ago when I was coming to terms with my own experience. Y was such a brave book and helped so many. I’m not at all surprised that it was difficult to write, but hopefully also deeply healing. 💜
You truly do have a lot of grit, Laura. I too had suppressed memories of childhood sexual abuse by my stepfather and stepbrother. They came back to me in my early 40s. My mother and stepfather and step-siblings were also physically, verbally and emotionally abusive to me and each other throughout my childhood and young adulthood and I have been estranged from the whole family since 2017, by my own choice. And since I made that decision after the memories surfaced and I had help to deal with it all, I have become the healthiest physically and mentally I've ever been, and the happiest and most open-hearted, and completely changed how I am in the world, and how I write and teach.
Amanda, it seems like it may not have been a total surprise considering the overall context of life in your original family. I'm glad you were able to step out of that whole system and set the boundaries you needed to set, and that it freed you to become the person you were meant to be. That's not only good for you and your immediate circle of loved ones now, but for all you serve and teach. I do think we "wounded healers" have a lot of depth and compassion to offer, though I'm not really a big far on that term. I like to just be a human being, no such labels needed.
No not really surprising. I always felt like something wasn’t quite right and then once the memories had resurfaced properly, I realised that I had always known in some way. It was a strange feeling. I know what you mean about that term. I definitely have way more depth and compassion to offer now though. To myself too, whereas I used to give myself the hardest of times.
I can’t say I felt “I had always known” because in my family of origin there was a lot of good and huge family mythology about what a great family we were. I bought into that and in some ways, there was truth to it. Some aspects of what I learned and received in my family have served me in incredibly positive ways. It’s just that the underbelly was completely invisible to me, so I had to work through a lot of shock and denial, as well as the denial of most of my family.
I’ve never confronted them with it. My stepfather died earlier this year. They kept trying to contact me as his time approached but I ignored all attempts. None of us ever had any kind of relationship with each other worth saving so I decided to just leave them all to it and save myself.
Wow Laura. What you’ve been though. Oof. Thank you for sharing so honestly here a bit about your journey. Grit indeed! I think I want to join your Wednesday zoom class. 💕
Thanks, Karen. I so appreciate you taking the time to respond.
I'd love you to join the Wednesday class. It's got a rolling admission policy--it's an ongoing class that meets on Zoom Wednesday mornings 9:30-12:30 Pacific time. People sign up for eight weeks of class at a time and then can renew if it's a good fit. I've got people in there who've been attending for many years, and have had some new folks joining recently. I'd love to have you be part of our community. It's a very intimate and wonderful class, especially now when safe, sacred community is even more important.
You can PM me and choose your own start date. Info and registration is here: https://lauradavis.net/writing-classes/#writing
After you read it, let me know if you have any other questions.
P.S. I just started a new policy--brand new students can try it out for half a session--four weeks, not as long of an initial commitment.
Laura, most people respond to a life-shattering setback by binge-eating cereal in bed and ghosting their future. You responded by throwing a PowerPoint dinner party about what to do with your life, landing a book deal, and casually launching—a cultural movement. Who does that? Your ability to turn psychic and emotional collapse into purpose and a bestselling book is nothing short of extraordinary. It’s like your grit has grit. Thank you for reminding us that even in the wreckage, we can still create something that matters, whether small or profound. And for showing us the sheer, unstoppable power of grit.
Love this, "binge-eating cereal in bed and ghosting their future" - brilliant! 😂
mahi definitely knows how to turn a phrase. She is a brilliant writer. I know because she’s in one of my weekly classes!
Mahi, I love your comment and I laughed out loud at "binge-eating cereal in bed" and "your grit has grit." I'm still laughing and it's not even 6:30 in the morning!
Oh...and this was before power point was invented. I just checked with Doctor Google. Powerpoint was invented in 1987. And this meeting was probably in 1984. I used a flip chart and markers for my presentation.
Laura, I’m delighted (and impressed) that I made you laugh at 6:30 AM before coffee! And thank you for the correction, yes, flip charts and markers make the whole process even more iconic. There’s something almost poetic about mapping out “What am I going to do with my life?” in bold marker strokes, flip charts and a dinner audience. Flip charts and grit: a bold pairing for brave beginnings.
Frankly, I can't believe I did that (the meeting), but then again, I guess I can believe it.