The Timeline

After several sessions focusing on stress and anger management, Sara explained to me that she’d like me to create a timeline of my life – from birth to present. The timeline should include major traumas as well as meaningful life events for both myself and important figures in my life. Sara’s assignment seemed easy enough. I arrived home after my session to find that my boyfriend had gone out with friends. This would be the perfect opportunity to start my timeline. I sat on the couch, armed with my paper and pen, turned on some ambient music and went to work. Sara suggested I begin the timeline shortly before my birth, as studies have shown that stress on a pregnant woman can affect her baby. I began with documenting my father’s response to my mother’s pregnancy – “Have an abortion, or else I’m leaving.” This was the threat that kicked off my tiny existence. From the year of my birth, I drew a long line, spanning several years, to show the divorce proceedings that were kicked off by my birth. After the line, I drew a box. Within the box I wrote, “Father moves away – to other side of country.” I move to the next year on the timeline and write, “Grandpa dies of cancer.”
I stopped writing. My mind flooded with vague but happy memories of my grandfather. My thoughts moved from the memory of the first time my grandfather fed me cantaloupe to the memory of every time I walked in a room, my grandpa’s face lighting up as he said, “You’re a pretty little girl.” He was one of the few people in my life who realized I was a child. He treated me with warmth, care, affection, protection – all the things a child needs from an adult. I will always remember my grandpa as one of the best people I met while on this earth.

I looked back down at my timeline. This timeline was not shaping up to be too pretty, I thought, and I was only at age five. Shortly after my grandpa died, came the first cloudy memories of sexual abuse. A family member I had trusted had began to act inappropriately with me – undressing me, touching me, telling me to touch them. This continued for several years. I drew a long line spanning several years, to represent the ongoing abuse on my timeline. Shortly after the beginning of the sexual abuse, I made another box representing the physical abuse I had experienced from my child care provider. Shortly after that, I drew another box to represent my first recollection of a suicide attempt of my mother’s. I paused. On my timeline, I was now just past 6 years old.

Tears began to well in my eyes. I began to think of events I had pushed out of my head, events I had not remembered in years. There was so much I had forgotten. I began to shake as I realized how much had happened – just in my first six years. I’m not one to complain or exaggerate – in the past I had taken any opportunity I had to downplay the chaos of my childhood. Now, just the beginning of my childhood was staring me in the face – I couldn’t downplay it, I couldn’t push it away. There it was. Shaking, I put my pad of paper on the table and reclined back on the couch. Tears rushed down my face as I tried to control my breathing. I felt demoralized, exhausted, lost, hopeless.

I would not be doing any more timeline tonight, I decided. I had taken the first step. And, sometimes, the first step is all you can take in one day.