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Finding Joy After Trauma

Updated: Jan 6



Eggs.  Nothing else would do.  Surprising really, considering I’m not particularly keen on them!  None the less, my recent return to weight training meant that my body knew exactly what it wanted. And it wanted eggs.


So, completely disregarding the cupboard full of food and a fridge full of fresh fruit, I grab my keys and head out. The sun is shining for the first time in what must surely be weeks, and I can feel it’s warmth melting away the memory of yesterdays rain clouds.


Upon entering the shop I’m aptly greeted by a vast display of sunflowers, my favourite, and I feel a sense of pleasure washing over me as I toy with the idea of treating myself to some sunshine that no external weather forecast could take away.


Scanning the sea of yellow I begin to contemplate the dichotomy of nature, so simple yet intricate, all around and yet so often overlooked.  Speaking of looking, have you ever looked at a sunflower, I mean really looked? Not merely a casual “Oh they’re pretty” glance, but looking at them with such depth in which you could quite possibly loose yourself?  The symmetry is borderline hypnotic, like a kaleidoscope filled with glitter and mirrors, and petals bursting outwards, almost like painted brush strokes of the imagination. You have to resist the urge to reach out and touch them, just to be sure they’re really there.


Smiling, I select the bunch that call to me, finding myself in awe of their beauty, with the sinking sensation of joy taking an even deeper hold.


I locate the eggs, pay the cashier and head to the car with a spring in my step. Cradling the sunflowers in my arms whilst I search for my keys,  I look up to see an elderly woman sat in the passenger seat of a car, beaming at me. I smile back, and she cradles her own arms in an upward motion, indicating to the flowers I was holding.


“I treated myself!” I mouthed, and she nodded approvingly, still smiling.


I could tell she’d really looked at sunflowers before.


Once home, with the kettle on, eggs whisked and butter slowly melting in the pan, it struck me how much joy I was experiencing over eggs, sunflowers and a simple shared moment with another human.  I observed the quite frankly unremarkable events that lead to me making scrambled eggs with such happiness and couldn’t help but wonder if I tried to describe this to anyone else, would they understand? And so here I am, describing it to you.


Why?


Because once upon a time, not that long ago, and in a land not that far away (Devon to be precise) there was once a girl who felt so wildly abandoned, lost and broken that she lay sobbing on the floor, convinced her life was over at the tender age of 22.  Raised in the worlds largest doomsday cult, she was a single parent and carried years of unhealed trauma and abuse that wreaked havoc on her self worth, with pain permeating all aspects of her life.


That same is girl is 36 now, has multiple businesses, a beautiful family and finds herself on random sunday mornings making eggs with more exuberance than most people make love, all whilst marvelling at the sunflowers she just purchased.


Yup, you guessed it.  The girl from Devon is me.


You see, there was a succession of choices that took me off that floor, crying and broken, that lead me to the woman that I am today, most definitely not broken although still partial to a good cry when needed.


I wasn’t rescued. Nobody erased the years of pain or damage acquired. And I didn’t suddenly become some evolved version of myself with all the required skills to start a brand new life and live happily ever after, the end.


I simply decided to listen to the quietest voice that resided within me, the one who dared to spark hope and started sentences with “what if…..”


What if you deserve more….what if you can be more…what if you can give more?


And so I put one foot in front of the other, in the pursuit of something more. I took messy, uncertain action, with absolutely no clear direction or any idea of what a life of more could possibly look like for someone like me. I didn’t know where I was going or what I was doing, but I knew that I had nothing to loose and only maybe, just maybe, something to gain, something to give.


I look back on those years and can see now with the kind of clarity that only time can gift, exactly what it was that I was doing.


I was choosing me.


I was choosing myself over pain.  I was choosing myself over my experiences.  I was choosing myself over my circumstances.


I was choosing to believe in myself.


As I reflect upon that chapter in my life, whilst buttering toast and making tea, I realise that I have nothing but oceans of compassion and immense gratitude for that girl in Devon, the one what felt so broken and yet had the courage to listen to the voice that said “what if….”


I’m here because of her. I have an abundance of love, joy and magic in my life today because of her.


So please know this:


No matter who you are, where you have come from or what you have been through, you can choose you. You can choose to listen to the voice that says…


“What if you deserve more, what if you can be more…”


Because you too deserve to buy sunflowers and make scrambled eggs and feel stupidly happy about the whole the damn thing.



Hayley x



To work with me email hayleyscottsummers@gmail.com or book your 1:1 Power Session here



























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