What do you see in the mirror? What do you see reflected back to you from your loved one’s eyes?
Has trauma changed that and you don’t know how to fix that? Or maybe even that it is broken? This beautiful pink slip nightgown. This is what changed my view of myself.
Well, that and the magical gifts of Lela Wrights’ superpower of transformation and Christi Williams’ eye behind the lens.
You see, I have survived and healed from sexual trauma and objectification for 50 years; from the time I was 16 years old to just three years ago. I even endured nine months of intense weekly EMDR therapy to heal deep scars retriggered by PTSD of my assault and all the unhealed wounds that oozed pain and suffering born from that. I am 68 years old. I have never viewed myself as beautiful, or attractive. Now, I know that others have viewed me as attractive because I have been the recipient of much-unwanted desire all my adult life. The desire that is selfish. The desire that is self-gratifying. The desire that seeks control. The desire of ownership that displays the object of desire so others will desire what they can’t have.
It messes with your head. It messes with your self-worth. It messes with your boundaries. It messes with your choices. It shatters your reflection in the mirror.
Two months ago, I looked at a series of photographs of me wearing that pink slip nightgown and finally saw myself through my husband’s eyes. It brought tears of wonder and awakening and understanding.
Because when I looked at that photo I saw a beautiful sexy woman who happened to be me.
And I saw the ‘me’ that my husband saw.
That nightgown was my birthday present from him last October. He specifically chose it for me. He went to the mall, found the lingerie store, selected this single piece of lingerie and then carried that little pretty pink bag in his big hands hanging from his long arms around the mall with him. He is a big man. A manly man. I can imagine how he looked. It makes me smile. He chose that gown because I can assume, he thought it was sexy, and he thought it would look sexy on me. He thinks I am sexy. When I opened it I was so surprised by his choice. When I put it on that night, I didn’t feel sexy, but I loved that he thought I did. And that was the case every time he asked me to wear it. I trusted his feelings, but I never felt his feelings.
I told this story to my therapist. She knows my deepest secrets. She knows that survivors of sexual assault have wounded souls who diminish their own self-worth. She knows that she can heal the mind, heal the memory, guide the behaviors and choices to healthy and loving ones, but she is helpless to heal the heart until the survivor joins the head-healing to the heart-healing. She knows the disconnect between what the survivor sees in the mirror and what is real. She said she wishes she could write a prescription for a boudoir photoshoot for all her patients healing from sexual trauma.
My husband started this healing the day I met him by respecting me, by setting boundaries for himself and ultimately me, and by being open to tell me and show me his desire. My therapist listened to my fears about loving him, helped me self-check myself during our 3 years of dating and reassured me it was okay to love him, trust him and ultimately marry him. I was happy. We married on May 19, 2019.
I didn’t realize I was not yet whole. Because being fragmented was my normal.
And then came Grinkie Photography. And then came Lela Wright. And then came Christi Williams.
And then came a photoshoot in a beautiful, safe studio in January 2020.
And then came those pictures.
I brought along the pink slip nightgown because I simply wanted to honor my husband, even though I had no intention of wearing it … you know why ... I didn’t look sexy in it. I had an idea of just having it draped on the floor or sofa or something with me next to it covered in something else.
But Christi had different ideas. And Christi is a natural at weaving safety and sexy together.
The photoshoot was over and I sat on the couch next to Christi to view my photos. I love words, but I can’t find the words to express the overwhelming emotion of seeing myself as beautiful and desirable for the first time in my life. Not seeing myself as desirable to someone else. Just simply seeing myself as desirable. Period. Even now, two months later, I get a lump in my throat remembering.
The photoshoot was a gift for my husband’s 60th birthday. He did not know I was doing it. It would be a surprise.
There were two surprises. His. And mine.
The end of the story is this: My husband is in love with my pictures. In love with them. The wall photo of me in the pink nightgown is hung at eye level when he is laying down by his nightstand. He says he sleeps between his lovee and his smoochee now. And when I look at that picture of me, I ‘feel’ what he means.
The extra gift that comes from those photos? Use your imagination.
