Finding Calm
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It seemed to drizzle a cold clumpy rain the entire day during an open themed workshop with a group of women in the fall of 2014. Surprisingly the weather on this day acted as a trigger for one of the women, Jane*. It took her back to her childhood, of being cold and wet while her mother dragged her from door to door trying to convert people to their faith. In the beginning, she would voice her needs, but eventually after being ignored she fell silent. Her mother’s choice to convert would influence the rest of her life.
Photo Credit: Ruth Roberts
On this day, it came rushing back all at once while she connected with a young mare named Anunciada, Anna for short. Their process began before they got into the round pen together. Anna paced around the gate, throwing her head, stomping and showing frustration calling out to Jane. Every time Jane would approach she would leave. Jane would wander away and again Anna would stomp and clearly want Jane to come over.
Once it was time to start her session Anna was brought into the round pen. When Jane approached, Anna would barely let her enter. The dance started anew once Jane was in the center of the pen. Anna would approach, embrace Jane then look away, wander off and come back. So, I asked Jane how she was feeling and she said she felt frustrated (Anna mirrored this by shaking her head and showing signs of frustration.) Jane just wanted to know what Anna wanted from her. I asked what she wanted and she said she wanted connection, for people to be there when she needed them, to stop abandoning her. She said she felt angry. I asked her if she had ever voiced her anger before and she said no. She was fearful that Anna would get angry and run her over if she did. We talked a little about how horses value congruency, that it is when we are being incongruent that they feel fear. If we are honest with our anger it is actually a safe space for them as long as we are not physically venting our anger at them.
While we were conversing, Anna moved around the outside of the ring giving Jane space. Jane’s anger started quietly at first, but as she gained momentum her voice grew louder and louder until she was screaming her rage at the world. At his point, Anna stood watching and waiting, completely focused on Jane in the middle of the circle as she began to say the things she had never said before. Anna dropped her head and released a giant sigh as Jane finally found her voice.
Angry
She was angry that her father didn’t stand up for his daughter and protect her from his crazy wife. How everything, Christmas, the snow, the cold stopped at the age of five. It all became meaningless. How she just wanted to be a kid and watch her Saturday morning cartoons and not try to convert people because the world was coming to an end. She was angry that when she finally knew that there was no God and that she needed more than ever, her entire community treated her like she had died. How she had suffered abuse from an elder in that community. How she wants people to be with her through the darkness. She kept voicing her anger, until Anna came and nudged her. I asked her to get the body involved; what would the body do to voice the anger? She was stomping mad in the mud, and then she said, “I just want people to see me, to witness and be in the mud with me.” The gates came down and sorrow poured out as exhaustion took over.
At this point, Anna came to the gate and very clearly was trying to pull us into the pen. All of us, the two practitioners and the other women in the workshop followed Anna into the pen. Anna took each one of us, one at a time and placed us around Jane. She re-arranged us until she was happy with where we all were; walking a circle around us as we supported Jane and kept her upright. Anna came in and gently laid her head against Jane’s heart and allowed her to collapse over and hug her face. We all stayed that way until the grief was finished.
Jane had connected deeply to a need that had not been met; she realized that through her choices she was reliving the same story over and over. She knew she was ready to change the story and wanted to create relationships in her life that were healthy and didn’t mirror the old pain. Whenever there is complex trauma present in a person’s history it becomes extremely important to evaluate and work on their ability to maintain calm.
Complex trauma is a mix of Big ‘T’ trauma and little ‘t’ trauma. Big T traumas are large events that a person can’t tolerate, and little ‘t’ trauma happens when there has been a missattunement by people around us that hasn’t been fixed or addressed.
Calm builds our window of tolerance and allows us to maintain a state of non-dissociation. We all dissociate in our own way. We all have ways that we avoid our emotions, or situations that are happening; be it through fantasy, numbing out, or at worst addicting to name only a few.
The horses are amazing at allowing participants to temporarily borrow their nervous systems; they allow us to remain present with our experiences
rather than in trauma time where we relive our trauma’s.
The horses allow us to process through our memories in a productive way rather than looping so that we can move forward. They teach us calming resources and skills to “go back to grazing.” If you have witnessed natural horse behavior then you will have noticed this particular resource before. A horse that goes through a trauma will shake its entire body as if to dislodge the emotional, mental and physical residue of the experience at which point they will go back to grazing.
In every session; like in the one where Jane worked through some of her own complex trauma, the ability to remain and or return to calm becomes very important. In some of the most intense moments of Jane’s rage, Anna remained calm and attentive, by the end of the session Jane herself was able to reach an incredibly deep place of calm and self-compassion in which she was finally able to witness her past and gain perspective on her life.
I had a male client, Mike, who lived in a state of hyper-vigilance for most of his life; he would remain rigid and tense in his body, always hyper-aware of and mistrusting his surroundings. This greatly decreased his window of tolerance and gave him a false sense of security, readiness and connection. This client felt drawn to learn from Chance, a fiery Chestnut horse who is incredibly sensitive.
At first Mike did absolutely nothing and Chance stayed on the fringes sensing the tension within Mike. Mike was confused and felt rejected. I asked if he ever allowed himself to be vulnerable and approach first. With some thought the client shared that no, he would never do that and would often expect other people to do all the work, which they never did. He gave it a try and blustered up to Chance and rigidly and quickly reached out to touch him. Chance shied and jumped away and wouldn’t go near him. Mike became very triggered and felt completely abandoned and rejected. He didn’t understand.
Reverse it
I asked the client to reverse it; what would he like when people approach him, what would Mike need. He started to think about it and he realized he would want to feel safe, connected and like he could trust. We did some somatic exercises to explore body language and he became aware of his own tension.
Mike started to consciously relax his body. He slowed his breathing and all of a sudden Chance started to turn in more and look at him. Mike calmed further and slowly approached, now tuning into Chances needs rather than his own. He noticed when Chance would flinch, so Mike would stop moving. At the half way point Chance, feeling this new level of calm attunement came right up to Mike, covering the rest of the distance. The rest of this session was in complete silence as Mike and Chance calmly connected to one another. It was absolutely beautiful.
Mike related afterwards how, when he finally allowed himself to surrender, and trust being calm, Chance then participated in the relationship with him. He didn’t feel abandoned anymore.
No matter the lesson, the level of trauma or the case history of the client, calm is always the corner stone of healing. It is where we begin and it is what the horses help us to remember. Somewhere along the way most of us lose our connection to our deep, innate sense of calm or contentment. Over and over the horses remind me of its importance. Whenever I enter into a relationship with a horse in whatever capacity it happens to be, it becomes very obvious from which feeling state I am approaching them and myself.
There is always more flow, connection and ease when that state is birthed out of calm. I now try to integrate this into my own life and into my private practice. It is always amazing to see clients integrate into their own lives the various learnings, and the amazing ripples calm really has, as they connect deeply to themselves through the horse partner that called to them.
* All names changed to protect privacy
Photo credit: HorseTouch Equine Photos
“No matter the lesson, the level of trauma
or the case history of the client,
calm is always the corner stone of healing.”Charlotte Bammer
or the case history of the client,
calm is always the corner stone of healing.”Charlotte Bammer
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Charlotte Bammer Bio Charlotte Brammer is a Registered Psychotherapist, EMDR Therapy practitioner, Certified Hypnotherapist, Equine Assisted Therapist as well as Relational Somatic Psychotherapy Level 2 trained. She specializes in anxiety treatment, OCD, PTSD, and complex trauma. Charlotte has been in private practice since 2007 and is certified through the CRPO and the NGH. Charlotte has 20 years of equine experience including natural horsemanship, therapeutic techniques, as well as classical Dressage training. Her unique approach stems from her own journey of healing from anxiety and OCD as well as her multi-disciplinary studies. Charlotte can help you to feel better, overcome trauma, let go of anxiety and stress, move forward with grace and ease and live fully and authentically. www.livingclarity.ca. Photo Credit: Ruth Roberts www.ofhorseiam.com |