A Woman's Word: A Compilation of Healing Stories

A WOMAN’S

WORD

A COMPILATION OF HEALING STORIES

Empower Yourself through Their

Brave and Emotional Journeys

from Darkness to Light

JOANNA PETERS

Copyright © 2021 Joanna Peters.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Balboa Press

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-9822-7160-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9822-7162-6 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-9822-7161-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021914289

Balboa Press rev. date: 08/13/2021

CONTENTS

Preface

Introduction

One by One

Deanna

All or Nothing

Sandra

I’m Not Going Anywhere

Rosa

Anxiety, the Soul-Destroying Liar

Jasmine

Learning as I Fumble

Abby

Healing in Layers

Sophia

Struggling to Survive

Jolie

Girlfriends

Aisha

Breathe and Trust

Brenda

What about You, Beautiful?

Final Words

To my mum and in memory of

my gran, my first beautiful and

powerful role models in vulnerability,

strength, and unwavering love.

Thank you.

PREFACE

As you will discover, I was honored to work with a varied demographic to complete this book—women from economically disadvantaged backgrounds, suburban families, and corporate leaders, all with different spiritual or religious beliefs. As a result, throughout the book, I use various terms for a higher power—God, source of light, Source, the universe, the divine—depending upon how each woman healing sees the world and her divine support within it. For that purpose, in the introduction, I use the term divine, but please transpose your own belief system as you read, and above all, enjoy the overall message.

INTRODUCTION

Secrets, Truths, and Where You Fit In

Hello, beautiful soul!

I have had the honor of supporting many women through hard things, and underneath the situation that we are working through, too often, is a feeling—a secret even—that I am told by so many. The confession is something like this: I don’t have it all together. I scream and cry in private. I feel like I am in a fog. I believe that every other woman has it all together except me.

Sadly, societal conditioning has evolved over decades into the message that having it together (whatever that means) is the feminine goal, resulting in many of us struggling to keep our humanness to ourselves in shame. Our journey to self-love and peace is then compromised by guarding the secret that we are human.

You guys, some loving truth: everyone is a hot mess on some level, no exceptions. Darkness is a part of everyone’s journey that we must shine a light through to heal.

Want to know what lights me up completely? It’s when women share their truths, their personal stories of struggle without masks or editing. When they share to be fully seen, to let the light into whatever darkness they have been holding onto. I can feel the courage it takes to be that vulnerable. I can see what it releases in the person sharing, and I can feel divine love in that healing moment. It is truly magical.

When I have the honor of experiencing another woman’s release of darkness as she sets free her stories, it gives me chills. With every personal healing moment, I feel that the collective power of women everywhere becomes stronger, slowly restoring us all from the emotional, verbal, and sexual abuses that have deeply wounded our collective spirit as a sex for centuries.

Each woman who finds the voice to speak her truth strengthens all our voices and our resolve to do the same. In turn, women everywhere who have been shamed and mocked for becoming (justifiably) angry or overly emotional are thereby freed.

I genuinely believe that the most important work each of us can do for our family and our world, and to honor our ancestors, is to free ourselves from that memory—the one we don’t talk about and try not to think about—so we can grow beyond it. As a culture, we have all been unknowingly passing trauma along to the next generation by perpetrating attitudes of this is the way it is. We inadvertently condition other women around us, too, to stay small, to keep silent, or to cry privately, in deference to the comfort of others. Bravely putting ourselves first and working to heal our wounds and voices will, I believe, not only restore our own generation but also have a profound impact upon the next.

We are so divinely loved and supported in this mission. I can feel the strength of all the women who came before us and lived through their own hard times; they are standing with us. The women who knew only a lifetime of being dehumanized, oppressed, and silenced, causing many of us in this generation to carry their pain on a cellular level. The women who built guns during wars and stood in lines for rations after their homes were bombed. The ones who emotionally supported their broken men when they returned home from active service, or their families and themselves if their men did not. They all stand with us daily; we are never alone.

Our ancestors are supporting us now because we have much work to do. I believe we are here, each of us on this planet, at this time, for a reason—to do our part in healing the world through restoration of the sacred feminine.

A part of you may have felt a stir of excitement at some point reading this, but perhaps it is accompanied by doubt: I hear you! But the answer to such massive, historic, worldwide pain cannot be simply to take care of myself. How could I be that significant in the divine plan?

And there it is: the I don’t matter wound that plagues most of us in one way or another.

What if you are that significant, beautiful soul? What if you are meant to heal yourself, thereby restoring others around you and raising the feminine consciousness? What if you do matter that much? It is far from selfish to prioritize your own personal healing. You are connected to everyone else, and you are an essential part of this glorious puzzle.

We are strong enough for this, and we have so much combined courage and strength to tap into.

We are all needed to heal the collective—yes, you too, my love.

So grab a cup of tea, or whatever beverage the day is calling for, and connect to your sisters, your angels, and yourself as you read on, safe in the knowledge of how very loved and supported you are in your journey.

With so much love,

Joanna

I’m choosing me, my life; I matter.

What’s different about me? Not just my new swagger.

I’m releasing old patterns that had me feeling empty.

I’m healing past wounds. I forgave those who hurt me.

I’m deepening my faith. I am loved and supported,

Divine’s beautiful creation, no longer self-doubted.

And though this news may some frustrate,

My worth is no longer up for debate,

Stand with me, sister; we are long overdue.

Our ancestors are jumping and cheering our coup,

As one by one, we heal and remember,

Straighten our crowns, wide awake from our slumber.

There are others to heal and important work to do.

First things first, though: you must choose you.

DEANNA

The weekend before we met, Deanna considered driving off a bridge, but she wound up having family in the car on her return trip. She wasn’t overly interested in talking to me but had been offered to be part of my program and was, I suspect, being polite. Deanna would look past me, over my shoulder as we talked, her soul barely in her body. She was matter-of-fact that she was depressed, describing feeling like a faceless clown in a dull parade. A few times toward the end of our first session, Deanna connected back into her body enough to search for authenticity and caring in my eyes. She glanced quickly but explored deeply. She did it a few times. Did I care? Could she trust me? She sighed and agreed to come back to see me again the following week.

Agreeing to come back each week seemed like a promise between souls to her. She kept her word to me, always, even when she didn’t want to. She was honest about not wanting to come often. From watching Deanna in the group, I noticed she knew Bible verses well and asked her how. Her grandmother was a minister; she said she had no choice but to know the Bible growing up. Despite her dismissive comment, when she talked about God’s love, she came alive no matter how she felt. Although we met weekly, I wasn’t coaching Deanna; I reached her authentically when we were just two women finding our way, loved by God. She often ministered to me in our conversations; she would show up powerfully for me but not herself. When the topic was on herself, she withdrew, and her eyes glazed back over. When she was called to be a witness or servant, she showed up entirely in her body, passionate and caring. The transformation was instant. In dialogue, I influenced Deanna to draw logical conclusions that if God made everyone perfectly, with no mistakes, that included her too. She reacted with an amused twinkle in her eye, like I had made a good chess move, but she sighed and said she wasn’t able to connect with that.

We talked about how convicted she was when she quoted the Bible for others but discounted it for herself. She had been told many times that she has the gift of ministry. The few times she dared to say something in her church, people cried and rushed up to her afterward. They wanted her to be more involved in her church because of that gift. She was squirming in her seat as she was telling me. She didn’t believe them, didn’t feel worthy, and argued that if God had wanted her to speak publicly, he wouldn’t have given her social anxiety. I listed many other women I knew who were called for public leadership, who had to overcome their anxiety on the way. I shared my struggles with the same thing, and as usual, the minute it was about me, she shifted into ministering to me immediately. God will keep leading you through it, she reassured me with no doubt in her mind. I purposely let her continue to encourage me for a few minutes. Then I asked if any of that might also apply to her.

Hmph. Well played, she said. I loved when Deanna showed me that amused sparkle in her eyes.

One of Deanna’s passions in her youth was riding a motorcycle. When I asked her to relive moments of joy, she would tell me about her rides—the open-air, unique smells, and sights. Suiting up was fun, wearing her armor and feeling like a Power Ranger. She described driving around in a car as only a necessity; it wasn’t fun. Compared to riding a motorbike, a car’s comfort and safety deprives you of any real experience, she explained. The front windscreen looks like you are watching something on TV. You can’t feel the road, and there’s no natural air. Riding a bike in her youth compared to driving a car now seemed like a perfect metaphor for her current outlook. She felt disconnected from her life, as though watching it through a windscreen, and so had lost interest in the experience.

*

I very much enjoyed the time Deanna and I spent together talking about all the things in life. Somewhere over the last few months, she had decided to show up