The I of Me©: How Self-Compassion Can Heal a Lifetime of Compounded Trauma and Hurt

By Niqqi

Through the process of self-analysis and self-compassion, it is possible to heal years of compounded trauma and ‘baggage’. It is a natural process to respond to traumas by storing emotional baggage by repressing hurtful memories. It is normal to expect the worst in an effort to self-preserve. This negative expectation leads to long-term faulty thinking; and eventually subconscious self-destruction through learned helplessness.
Niqqi has spent a decade studying trauma and its effects. There is no escaping trauma through denial. When we attempt to do so, we bury them and give them control over our minds, bodies, souls, and hearts. Niqqi lived for years as a survivor of compounded trauma - in denial. She viewed herself as successful. Her favorite line was: “I don’t look like what I’ve been through!” She had no idea she looked exactly like what she had been through – internally. She began to take analysis of herself. She learned that her past traumas were buried inside of her psyche, controlling every aspect of her life. Her family lived in extreme poverty when she was young. She was kidnapped at the age of ten. She experienced physical and mental abuse, as well as neglect, throughout her childhood. She married an abusive man who held her hostage for hours and attempted to take her life.
Through self-awareness and self-compassion, she learned how to face trauma head-on in an effort to minimize its effects. In order to conquer trauma we have to go through it; not over it, not around it, and not under it – but straight through it. Niqqi no longer views herself as a victim who survived and became a survivor. She is a Thrive-or!
Through self-analysis and self-compassion, learn how to minimize and eliminate baggage by discovering The I of YOU!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 20, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543456066

Niqqi

Niqqi is a Motivational Speaker • Professional Trainer • Community Consultant MISSION To partner with organizations and professionals; utilizing strategies for motivating people toward professional growth, development, and success. LEADERSHIP ACCOMPLISHMENTS Niqqi empowers community organizations and individuals. Through extensive research, she identified a need people who experience chronic adverse situations all seem to have in common – the way they view and process stress. She helps them identify and eliminate core issues such as negative learned behaviors, which cause symptoms of generational poverty and chronic homelessness. She creates and facilitates state-approved workshops that assist participants with thinking outside of limited environments.

Book preview

Copyright © 2017 by Niqqi.

ISBN:                  Softcover                        978-1-5434-5605-9

                            eBook                              978-1-5434-5606-6

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

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

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 11/27/2019

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

760840

This book is dedicated to my wonderful daughter. She has been my best friend and rock. She is the most unselfish person I know. She has been an inspiration to me throughout her lifetime. My baby girl has been my biggest encourager and supporter through a lot of hard times. I trust her emphatically. She has been an intricate part of me being the strong person I am. She is a giver and supportive of everyone around her. She is the motivation behind every positive thing that I do.

Contents

Chapter 1     The Morning After The Night Of Terrors

Chapter 2     My Memories

Chapter 3     The Morning After The Night Of Terrors

Chapter 4     My Memories

Chapter 5     The Morning After The Night Of Terrors

Chapter 6     My Memories

Chapter 7     The Morning After The Night Of Terrors

Chapter 8     The Night Of Terrors Begins

Chapter 9     The Morning After The Night Of Terrors

Chapter 10   My Reasons For Opening Up And Telling Someone

Chapter 11   The Power Of Releasing Traumatic Experiences

Chapter 12   Trying To Move Forward

Chapter 13   Traumatic Effects Of Child Sexual Assault

Chapter 14   Compounded Traumas

Chapter 15   Escaping Domestic Violence

Chapter 16   The Importance Of Psychoeducation In My Healing

Chapter 17   Brand New Attitude

Chapter 18   The I Of Me

Chapter 19   Focused And Purpose-Driven

References

Chapter I

THE MORNING AFTER THE NIGHT OF TERRORS

It was a cold winter’s morning in the Midwest in 1981. I had just turned ten years old a few months prior. I awoke to the horrifying sounds of police officers, walkie-talkies, and Mama providing the police officers with details of what she imagined happened the night before. According to Mama’s account of the previous night, someone had broken into our house. They gained access through the basement door in the back of our house, in the dead of a cold, bone-chilling night. They broke into the house for a simple burglary while our entire family slept quietly. The only thing they were after was my brothers’ seventeen inch black and white television. Once the burglars entered the house, they had to pass through the dark and cold hallway. They then had to pass through my oldest sister and my bedroom to gain access to my brothers’ bedroom where the small inexpensive television was. A white, top sheet had been found in the basement doorway that led to outside. Mama went from bed to bed to find out whose sheet was missing from their bed. She noticed it was my sheet and informed the police that the intruder or intruders must have taken the sheet off of me as I slept in the top bunk. They then came to the conclusion that the burglar had used my sheet to cover up the television on his, or their way out. The only thing they could not explain or even notice was, what would be the point of a burglar taking a sheet to cover up his night’s steal if he dropped the sheet just a few steps away at the back door? The police officers and my mother failed to notice this critical and horrifying clue.

No one ever asked me any questions. Why didn’t someone ask me: Niqqi, did the man wake you up when he took your sheet off of you? Did you see him? Did you wake up? Did he touch you? What happened to you while we all slept peacefully in our beds? No one asked me anything. The case was filed away with the many other break-ins that happened in ‘the hood’. The police never returned.

Chapter II

MY MEMORIES

The break-in would become the hot topic for Mama for many years to come. She exclaimed with excitement as she explained the drama to all of her many friends, family, church members, neighbors, passer-by’s, and anyone else that would listen. Her favorite line was: I’m glad Niqqi’s big mouth didn’t wake up. She would have screamed so loud that she would have got the whole family killed.

I always had powerful vocal chords. I could yell so loud that it sounded as if I was using a bull horn. I was always the captain or co-captain when I joined cheerleading teams when I was young. I was used to my mother either bragging or complaining about my big mouth. It was a good thing when someone needed me to yell loud enough to get the attention of a noisy crowd. It was a bad thing when I played outside, got too excited, and yelled out loud. Mama would come running outside scared half to death. She would have on a night gown, be in her bare feet, with her hair all over her head. She most likely was asleep as she did on most days. After she would find out I was playing, she would be so angry at me for Scaring me to death, I thought somebody was dead out here. Imma beat yo’ butt the next time you scream like that!

Each time Mama would tell the story about the night of terrors, or as they called it, the break in; I would take it all in as I played back the real story in my head over and over. Mama always brought up this petrifying life-altering night. She never let me forget it - even though I tried.

I am the second eldest of six children. I was ten years old at the time of the break-in. Our family included Mama; my step dad; Nancy, my oldest sister; Anthony, my brother who is one year younger than I am; David, my brother who is three years younger than I am; Kimmie, my sister who is five years younger than I am; and Devine, my youngest sister who is six years younger than I am. We lived far below the federal poverty line. We actually lived as if we lived in a third world country. We lived in the north side of the city in the Midwest on a street named Cote Brilliant. Most people in this neighborhood were low-income, which means they were actually not as poor as we were. Most families had at least enough income to pay bills and to buy food. A lot of them also had enough income to provide new clothes and snacks for their children. This was not something afforded to our family of eight with one minimum wage income, welfare, and food stamps. Very few people owned a car in our neighborhood. Most people walked or took the bus.

The neighborhood was riddled with crime but people seemed to have adjusted to, and accepted it. This was a way of life for people, as it had been for their parents and grandparents. Living in this neighborhood, at any moment, there could be a gun fight in the street. It was not foreign to hear someone yell They shooting! Of course, in the ‘hood’, Ebonics was in full affect. There was no time for complete sentences. Adverbs are rarely used. We would all scramble for cover behind a car if we couldn’t make it inside our house quick enough.

After a shooting, we would not be allowed to go outside and play for days. Once we finally were allowed to go out and play, we were confined to the porch with explicit instruction not to leave. As soon as we finally got permission from Mama to jump rope in the street in front of our house, another shooting happened, and always in close range.

We moved frequently due to nonpayment of rent and subsequent evictions. The house we lived in at the time of the break in was condemned. We had no electricity, no gas, no running water, and no telephone because the house was not up to city code. Mama and Step Daddy slept in the master bedroom on the first floor of the house. Kimmie and Devine had the second bedroom on the first floor. They were Step Daddy’s children and received a little better care than the four older children who were not Step Daddy’s children. I slept in the basement sharing one open room with Nancy. Our bedroom had no doors and was most likely the den or a dining room, but we used it as our bedroom. We had one bunk bed and a chest of drawers in our room that my grandfather, who we called Granddaddy, bought us. Anthony and David shared the bedroom with a door in the front of the basement. They also had bunk beds and a chest of drawers in their bedroom.

The house was setup roommate style, or even for two-family living. There was one bedroom, a living or dining room, a kitchen, and a full bathroom in the basement, which was identical to the upstairs. There were two entrances to the basement. We used the door that lead to upstairs. We never used the basement backdoor that lead to outside into the dark backyard. Our backyard was extremely scary, especially in the winter during the night so we never complained about not being able to use the backdoor.

Chapter III

THE MORNING AFTER THE NIGHT OF TERRORS

I awoke to the horrifying sounds of police officers, walkie-talkies, and Mama providing the police officers with her account of what happened the night before.

I sat up in pure horror! Why are they here?! Who called them?! Who told them?! Please God, don’t let him come back like he promised me he would last night. A million thoughts ran through my mind as I viewed and processed the scene.

Everything happened in slow motion. Mama looked at me and noticed that I hadn’t left for school with my brothers and sister. She had not noticed me initially because my bunk was on the top. I was tucked away in Nancy’s bunk on the bottom. I am not sure how I managed to sleep through all of the commotion but I am guessing it was the impact of the trauma I had just experienced.

We had no electricity so I am not sure what time it was. I just know I was extremely late for school. From young ages, we were required to be responsible for waking up, preparing our clothes, getting dressed, and leaving for school on time. We generally arrived to school way too early or way too late.

We were never on time for school, which meant we missed breakfast and had to wait for lunch time to eat. I remember being extremely hungry on most days. The only thing I could think of was eating lunch the entire morning. When the cafeteria staff would begin cooking lunch, my stomach would go wild growling, and time seemed to stand still. Whatever lesson my teacher was teaching that particular morning was lost to my hunger pains.

As I became fully awoke I gained Mama’s attention. Mama motioned at me to get up and get ready for school. I believe I had a million thoughts running through my head. I began operating on auto-pilot. I tried to