John Lennon was right when he said, “Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see.” Like ostriches, we plunk our heads down and pretend everything is okay—because if we lift our heads up and take a peek around, we might have to make difficult, painful choices that could hurt, disappoint, or anger someone else as well as ourselves. Or we might deny or ignore what we feel because we don’t have a solution to the dilemma we are facing. In order to remain silent in a situation we know is wrong, however, we have to silence the parts of us that know better.

I don’t know when I stopped paying attention. It could have been after the sexual abuse occurred at six years old. Or maybe even before that, when I cowered in my room trying to block out the screaming matches between my parents. My home life, along with events for which I had neither the knowledge nor the skills to handle well, created a self-hatred so unbearable, I shut down. We cannot possibly hear guidance of any kind when we are numb, so the first 28 years of my life were lived unconsciously, with devastating consequences. At that point, at 28 years old, I lost custody of my only child. Until then I’d been sleepwalking through my life but didn’t know it.

In the 1970’s women rarely lost custody, unless they were prostitutes or drug addicts or something of that nature. I was none of the above. I am a nice Jewish girl from a white, middle class neighborhood in Queens, NY. My father was a clerk in the United States Post Office, and my mother sold real estate. My parents weren’t alcoholic. I didn’t drop out of school. I had friends.

Underneath the depression/despair cycle that permeated my existence burned a question I couldn’t answer: what was wrong with me that I ended up losing my child? Paradoxically, that same tragedy put me on the path towards healing. Seeping out from the blanket of depression which cloaked me were long-buried memories, thoughts, and feelings from childhood. I began to keep a journal. I didn’t know it then, but journaling gave me a way to unscramble the pieces of my life so that I could begin to make sense of it. That, along with private therapy, self-help groups, women’s consciousness raising groups, self-help books, and talking with friends, provided tools I needed to answer my soul-searing question.

Following the Whispers is a chronicle of that journey. It illustrates the consequences of not listening to the voice of wisdom and shows how I learned to tune in to and trust that inner voice. Now, at 59, I am aware of messages trying to get through. It might be a sensation in my body—sometimes in my gut, sometimes in my chest—or a thought such as this doesn’t feel right or something’s wrong here. The thought can be so fleeting I question whether it was really there.

I’ve learned to distinguish the thoughts or sensations that were confusing as a child. There is a parent voice—don’t have sex before you’re married. Other times, the voice of my conscience speaks up—that’s wrong, don’t do it. My child voice clamors for attention as well—I want that piece of chocolate now, please don’t hurt me, I can’t or won’t do that. Then there is my intuition, a guidance that helps me know what I am feeling—what that person said was derogatory and hurtful, no wonder I am upset. And more and more frequently, there is a wise, logical adult voice to help me make informed decisions—if you purchase that item, your budget for next month will be shot. There is yet another v oice—one I’ve come to call Spirit—that whispers in a language of non-words—a gentle nudge that makes me stop, pause, and breathe before taking an action.

Today I am content, although I still work on changing the things I can and accepting the things I cannot. My search for answers taught me that inner peace is not something we achieve and then remain feeling that way forever. It comes in moments. My spiritual journey towards healing has been and continues to be eclectic and varied and no doubt differs from yours, but it is my deepest hope that whatever might be keeping you from feeling inner peace and contentment, you will find pieces of my story to relate to and inspiration to move forward in your own journey towards healing.

“The more faithfully you listen to the voices within you, the better you will hear what is sounding outside.”
Dag Hammarskjold