After a tragic month of brutally dark criminal cases, I received a call from Jessica. I didn’t know Jessica, but I rarely know anyone who calls for help, this is a normal occurrence. Jessica’s friend was missing and no one seemed to care, a police report was not filed at the time because Jessica and her friend were underage and very much on their own. On the call she said, “her name is Myla and if I don’t find her no one will.” I responded with the typical information gathering details, any comfort I could offer, and began a 4-month hunt that brought me to multiple cities, shallow graves, traffickers, suspicious gas stations, an amusement park, and then finally to Myla. Sometimes the “find” is not a celebratory event. “Found safe” is an odd phrase to use when we find people. We usually find them alive, but I struggle to utter the word “safe” while standing in front of a person that will carry indefinite scars from a harmful experience they had no control over. Myla was found with a trafficker in a basement of one of his family members. She had no ability to leave unless she could have managed to gain about 50 pounds in muscle mass. In the process of looking for someone I tend to learn a lot about that person, it’s important that I tune that out once we are face to face. I allow every victim and/or survivor to tell me who they are once they are found. After speaking to Myla I gave her my number and told her to call me if she needed anything or ever found herself in trouble. My last words to her that day ended with, “Big or small, just call me.”

The next day Myla called. She didn’t need anything, but her mother did. Some of her requests I could provide, but I couldn’t help her out with the illegal requests. She hung up on me and Myla later called to apologize for the phone call. I ended our conversation by telling Myla, “big or small, just call me.”

A week after being found, the trafficker who lured Myla was released from jail and abducted Myla from her mother’s apartment in an attempt to get Myla to recant her statement to police. I had no idea until I got a phone call that Myla was in critical condition from injuries she sustained during a car crash while being abducted. I had a planned flight out west the next morning and luckily it was only 30 minutes from the hospital she was in. My first words to her when I arrived were, “why didn’t you call me?” Myla said, “I didn’t want to bother you.” I immediately looked down and said, “I get it. But you have to. You need to get comfortable with someone being there for you or you’ll always feel like a ferel, six toed cat. Call me next time.” Myla replied, “I still feel so shaky and lost from the crash.”

This continued on for years. Myla’s scars often landed her in unfortunate company. Myla never called me during a bad event but always called me afterwards. And I always showed up because I understood that until you exit survival mode, life is a cluster of storms. And each one left shockwaves that could be felt for years. Even if it was after the event, I knew Myla still needed support. She likely also feared me seeing her bruised up or emotionally tattered since I knew the circle of people to hunt down in her honor. Myla was a friend who lost a lot of friends, mostly for her inability to love herself. She lost jobs by prioritizing others instead of her own needs. Survival mode was winning the fight against Myla for years. I had about ten more years of experience than Myla and even though I wasn’t mentally where I needed to be yet, constructive assistance and support was still very much present. Just as Myla was supportive to others in ways she was not for herself.

Years after my first encounter with Myla it seemed that things were changing. She moved and stayed in one place, had an apartment and a new puppy. She was on her own finally and handling life one day at a time, sober and present. Presence is the key. Presence for ourselves and for others. It teaches us about our own identity and allows us to embrace the identity of others. The one thing that abused children lack is identity and opportunity to be still with ourselves and others. I remained still with Myla through text and calls for years so that she understood I was willing to sit with her in the good and the bad moments. She knew at least one person would hunt down anyone who even tried her, but she also knew she had at least one person who was willing to sit in the dark with her and ease her toward the light rather than force an idea of false positivity. She needed to adjust her eyes to the darkness she found herself in before she could tolerate the light.

On a very odd morning I woke up around four in the morning to a bird on my window of the condo I was renting while out of town. I let the bird inside and it sat on the bed while I reviewed some documents. Once again, I was out of town but not far from Myla. By seven o’clock in the morning I got a call, it was Myla. When I answered she was frantic. I had no idea what happened and couldn’t understand her. I asked her, “are you home?” She responded after catching her breath, “yes. Come over.”

As I drove there I forgot which way to turn initially and as I started to pull over on the side of the road to double check, I saw the bird in my rear view mirror. It flew ahead of me and then flew to the right, I said, “whatever” and drove to the right. Myla’s apartment complex was on the right after I turned. As I parked my car I noticed Myla was outside. I ran over to her and she was shaking, crying, and completely lost. I said, “let’s go get you checked out and maybe some anxiety meds. I’ll go with you.” There was no way for me to know what had happened so I opted for the safe route in case she needed checked out. About two hours later we were sitting in an emergency room waiting for a doctor. I told Myla, “I’m glad you called me.” After some anxiety medication and 18 hours of sleep at home, Myla woke up a little calmer. I made her something to eat, she asked if I was sure I didn’t want anything from her while laughing. I knew it wasn’t a joke though. I assured her I did not want anything from her other than for her to eat and tell me what I could do to help. She started to talk about what happened and she began shaking again. I said, “just eat. We will talk after.” We left and went for a walk after she ate and as we walked past the parking lot she became extremely nervous until we got down to a local park. Myla stopped walking and turned to look at me, hugged me, and said, “I stood up for myself. I couldn’t stop shaking. It was the scariest thing I’ve ever done.”

Myla felt the same way after the car crash when she was abducted. The physical reminders of the crash are still with her today. Trauma causes the same impact on emotional and physical health. Trauma is like a high impact crash on our nervous system and the shockwaves are felt for years after. At times even limiting our abilities unless we become our own physical therapist, mentally, to work through the aftermath of a high impact crash. And when those crashes are repetitive, the damage takes even longer to work through. Myla’s body reacted the same way as someone does when they first begin physical therapy after a high impact crash that left physical damage. Her body felt tired, shaky, unstable, and lost. Prioritizing ourselves can leave us in another reality that we are unfamiliar with. Initially it feels like being blind and stuck in a cage with braille lettering on the bars with the code to get out. Over time it starts to feel like home, over a lot of time. Myla had only intended to financially survive enough to appear to have normalcy. Her unwavering bravery to tackle her own reality gave her so much more out of life and still is. She is a confident, overwhelmingly successful individual and most people who know her now would be shocked to know that this is her story. And deep down, every time Myla stands up for herself she still feels slightly unsteady. This is why healing is rare. It’s hard, it’s ugly, it’s a funeral and celebration. It’s overwhelming. I am learning more from Myla now than I ever have before. I have ten years of experience ahead of her and I still get shaky.