Healing (176)

I hate this word. Like really seriously think it’s such a goddamn stupid word, at least in respect to trauma.

A broken arm heals. A fractured toe heals. A gash that’s required 17 stitches will heal. Does trauma seriously heal? If it does I’d like someone to let my body in on the know-how please, because I seem to be a bit slow on the uptake.

The concept of healing always seems airy-fairy when it comes to this stuff. Like you need to relax, let it be, and magically you’ll start to love yourself and move on. Bullshit. Maybe one day I will get over the fact that it happened. Maybe I’ll learn to hate myself less, maybe I’ll be brave enough to remove myself from my family. But it’ll always be there, it’ll always hurt when I look at it. It really won’t just heal and be good as new. Fuck that idea.

one hundred & seventy six: healing

the first thing i thought (and then wrote) was: never-ending.

shoulda left it there, but no, i decided to take a little lookie-loo on google. idiot idea.


(via merriam-webster): to make free from injury or disease. to make sound or whole

(via wikipedia) (i know, i know, not the best authority on anything, but…): the process of the restoration of health from an unbalanced, diseased, damaged or unvitalized organism

there were others, but those kicked me in the gut sufficiently.

to make sound or whole. to restore health from a damaged organism. fuck.

to re-establish a life, to revitalize. sure, okay.

i don’t know why it’s hurting so much to read all of that, i don’t have the words to describe how impossible it all feels. and to summarize all that has been lost, has been ‘unvitalized’ (is that a word, even?), to look out upon the landscape of what needs restoration and think, holy fuck, do i even have enough life left to do it?

where will this pain live, when i’m 50 or 68 or 91 years old? where will it have settled? will i be whole?

one hundred & thirty five: grace

it’s hard not to bump into grace, in the theological sense, when thinking about this word. like only by the grace of god do i _____ sort of dealio. and of course, i thought about people’s graceful movements, like ballet dancers or gymnasts or even those lucky people who carry themselves with some sort of innate grace (hint: not me).

but i have actually been thinking about grace a lot, mostly in terms of it being a gift that i need to give myself. it is akin to forgiveness (yes, i know i haven’t written that post, it’s a biggie for me) but it is greater than that. it is a choice we can make, when we are impatient or judging or angry with being in the same old miserable place, with feeling stuck, with whatever, honestly. instead of name calling and derogation, maybe we could choose grace.

i mean, what might that actually be like? instead of joining forces with shame and piling on with the mean voices of my past when i misstep or make an error, what if there was kindness, understanding, acceptance, generosity? what if i knelt down in front of myself, saw my downwardly-cast eyes, put a gentle hand under my own chin, and whispered, hey you. it’s okay. i know you feel bad, my love, mistakes always do, but you get another go at it, promise?

i’m not there yet (not even close), but the moments of grace i have experienced so far in my life are memorable, life-saving, and difficult to describe in words. so so healing, so warm, such an antidote to shame. and…what if i could do this for me? what if i could be full of grace for myself?

it’ll be revolutionary, i imagine.