The Truthbearer

Content note: This personal account includes references to childhood sexual violence, shame, punishment and spiritual imagery. Please read at your own pace; you can pause, skip a section or return another time.

This is an account of the images and experiences that arose in my own inner work. This journey moved from a trapped, silent scream towards safety, unburdening and a voice that could sing.

At the beginning of this journey, parts of me were reacting strongly. One was watching for what was genuine; another carried resentment. Their responses felt urgent because they were trying to prevent something painful from happening again.

Becoming curious helped me understand what they feared and who they were protecting. As I listened, there was more space between the reaction and what I chose to do.

This did not mean suppressing their feelings or expecting them to stop. Their concerns could be heard while I considered how I wanted to respond. I could take my need for honesty seriously, with more choice about how to express it.

In the personal journey below, I meet a protector who came to be known as the Truthbearer. She had been trying desperately to make the grown-ups see what was happening, believing that if they understood, the little one’s suffering could stop. Beneath her urgency was so much effort and pain.

When I saw how hard she had been trying, I felt tenderness towards her. She was exhausted. She needed someone to recognise what she had carried and how alone she had been.

Sometimes we meet our own protective responses with frustration: why am I still doing this? In this journey, there was room to see what lay beneath the response. Before anything needed to change, her effort and pain could be acknowledged. She could finally be held.

An everyday interaction brought a strong reaction in me. Parts of me were afraid of giving too much, being used, and having my contribution go unseen. Another part was watching closely for what was genuine. She was afraid of people pretending to be someone they were not, and others being taken in by it. She needed to know who was real so that we would not be hurt again.

Her message was simple: “Be genuine so I know where everything is.”

The possibility of letting down that guard felt intolerable. It meant becoming vulnerable and being stepped on again. As I became curious about what these parts were protecting, I began to see the small ones underneath: heartbroken, confused, lied to and violated, and carrying shame that did not belong to them.

There was a desperate need for the grown-ups to see the truth, so that the pain would stop.

As I explored what the Truthbearer feared would happen if the grown-ups never saw the truth and remained convinced by the other person, “RAPE” came loudly from the desperate protector of the two-year-old. The Truthbearer, a little older now and protecting the one under the table, expressed humiliation, despair and disappearing.

The one under the table was hunched beneath its front edge. Her back was turned. She was terrified and lost, covered by the solid heaviness of shame.

The grown-ups were discussing her sentence and punishment. They were deciding what would happen to her without hearing her truth.

Beside the table stood the Truthbearer. She was a child herself, trying desperately to make them see that the little one was not bad. She was heartbroken, confused, lied to and violated. She should not have been carrying their shame.

She screamed and screamed.

But her voice was trapped inside her. Nothing came out. A silent scream.

She could not make the grown-ups hear. She kept trying because she needed them to see the truth, so the pain would stop.

The Truthbearer could feel my presence, but at first she was too focused on making the grown-ups hear. She had been doing this for so long that she could not turn away from the task.

I stayed with her. I could see her, and I could feel how hard she had been trying.

Everything began to slow down. Exhausted, she fell to the ground and cried. Somebody had finally seen her and all the effort she had been carrying alone.

She collapsed into my lap and presence. I stayed with her there.

I showed the Truthbearer the one under the table. She was no longer hunched beneath the table, frightened and covered in shame. She had healed, and the protector had never known.

She had released the shame through sacred fire and pure water from the ancestors, and transformed into light, space and love.

She came to thank the protector for everything she had done. She had been witnessed, seen and unshamed. She held no shame.

The Truthbearer had continued trying to make the grown-ups see because she believed the little one was still there. She had not known what had changed.

Now that the twelve-year-old, the one under the table, was free, the Truthbearer could tell me the story of where it began. As she rested with me, having seen the one she had spent so long protecting now free, she showed me the much younger two-year-old, who had also been violated. This was the same protector, carrying the same desperate task: make the grown-ups see, so the pain would stop.

She showed me where it had begun, when the little one was two. This was the first burdening, the time she left her body and lost her voice. No matter how hard she screamed, no voice came out.

The room was dark. The two-year-old lay curled on her side on the floor, away from her bed and safety. The very young protector had left her body behind and was struggling up the stairs, searching for help. She was trying to reach the grown-ups and make them see that she was being hurt by the person they all loved.

She had no body. She could not take her body with her as she went searching for help. Each step took enormous effort. She felt only pins and needles where she tried to touch the steps. Without a body, she felt as though she would fall through them.

So much effort.

She screamed, but with no body and no voice, she could not get help. In the image, she could see her body being violated as it lay dead on the floor.

As the Truthbearer told me this story, the grandmother guide came and sat on the stairs. She was bright, calm and made of light. She knew exactly why this story was being told.

The Truthbearer wanted her body. She did not want it to be left there on the floor.

The grandmother guide expanded and brought the body that had been on the floor to her. She held the Truthbearer on one side and her body on the other. As they came together, the Truthbearer melted back into her body and became one again.

The grandmother simply held her. The Truthbearer could feel safe.

The Truthbearer had been able to meet me, collapse, cry and tell her story. She had left her body in search of a grown-up so she could reveal the truth and get help. Now she was back in her body and could feel safe. Something in her could change.

She was ready to stand, to walk, and to unburden. She could release the old burdens and the heavy clothing that had held them.

Her voice came back.

She could sing.

She walked with the healed twelve-year-old she had spent so long protecting, who was now older, bright and free. Her voice no longer had to remain trapped in the attempt to stop pain. There was room for love, freedom and song.

“I can sing for love rather than scream to stop pain.”

— The Truthbearer

The name that came for this protector was the Truthbearer. She could carry and radiate truth, with more trust that it could reveal itself in time.

The resentment belonged to another part: the one who had watched her trying and failing so badly. The part scrutinising other people’s motives had been trying to find out who was real and keep me from being hurt again.

Meeting what they were protecting helped me understand their vigilance. The Truthbearer had not known that the one under the table had healed. Once she was finally seen, and her earlier story could be met, she no longer had to carry the task alone.

In everyday life, I choose to check in with my parts, listen to what each one needs, and make sure everyone inside is on board with what I offer. This helps me give in a way that feels right for my whole system. It also builds inner trust.

Continue with The Unshamer → · All articles & reflections

One of the strongest teachings in this journey was that the Truthbearer did not know the one under the table had healed. She was still working desperately to protect someone she believed remained frightened and covered in shame.

For us as therapists, this highlights the importance of making room for the wider system to discover what has changed. But a protector not yet having received an update does not, in itself, mean that the client or therapist has done something wrong. Timing matters. Parts need to be ready to witness and take in something different.

If a familiar response returns, or appears in another form, we can become curious about what is happening now. Has this part seen the change? What does it understand? What might it need before it can trust what it is being shown? Its return does not automatically invalidate the earlier work.

Towards the end of a session, I may invite any parts who would like to witness what has happened. Almost like a gentle broadcast within the system: something has changed, and whoever wants to is welcome to see. There is no requirement to participate, believe it immediately or respond in a particular way.

The invitation matters, and so does the freedom to receive it in their own time.