The Continuity Of Healing
And the important part of saying goodbye to our wounded selves.
I’ve been thinking a lot about healing recently — or lack thereof. It’s been said time and again that we never truly stop healing. Although I would like to add, maybe we never stop healing in the sense that we go through different chapters of life and continuously grow. So, we’re healing in each chapter in a new way. But once we heal from one wound, we shouldn’t feel sorry or fearful in saying goodbye to that previous self. In shedding our skin, so to speak.
In Eckhart Tolle’s book, The Power of Now, he speaks of women’s tendency, in particular, in identifying with their “pain body.” The part of them who has experienced individually, and collectively, various types of suffering. We identify with that pain body all too often, his theory is that we should not identify with this pain body, for it is not truly us. We are far greater than that.
My recent realization is this: I tend to identify with my own “pain body” or “wounded self”, in order to stand in solidarity with others. Most of my healing, thus far in life, happened in my twenties — from years 22–28 to be exact. It was a time where I explored any and everything I could get my hands on esoterically. A time where I explored my own psyche and questioned myself endlessly, to understand the roots of my belief systems, various narratives, parental wounds, and generational cycles. I remember very specifically and vividly, drawing boundaries in an energetic and spiritual sense, that I would not continue any of these cycles further. This was all before 2020 — a year which shook us all. And yet, although I worked on a myriad of things and chose to move forward consciously, I’ve just noticed a theme of mine: using my past lessons in the present tense. Offering an illusion that I’m still grieving or healing in the present. Minimizing the greatness of my present, to create a space that’s more relative to others. My therapist recently prescribed this medicinal statement: there’s a difference between empathy and invalidating your own experience, simply to validate another’s.
I don’t believe I am healing right now, at least not in any major way. Rather, I’m in a state of peace after last year’s goodbyes and grief. However, there are still small yet seismic shifts I notice. Right now, I’m ready to say goodbye to the me who had a habit of invalidating my own experience, in order to validate another’s. I now undertake the action of speaking affirmatively of previous healings and the beauty they’ve gifted me in relating to others with depth and texture.
I no longer need to identify with that specific “pain body.” It’s in the past, which is how I was able to move forward and choose a very healthy, safe, and emotionally available partner for myself. One who I now call my life partner and husband; One I am so incredibly appreciative for. It’s also how my perspective shifted, to become more emotionally available and appreciative of the wonderful friendships I currently have. My extended and chosen family. My heart blossomed due to past traumas and subsequent healing; I deepened, grew, shed, and stretched to my present.
As our healing evolves, we evolve into new heights of being. In identifying with our past wounded selves, we may miss the grand opportunity in grasping and fully enjoying our new realized self. A self that has grown so much and moved past many traumas and challenges. A self that is in the here and now. In identifying with our wounded selves, we may forget to stop and ask, “am I still healing from that?” The answer may surprise us. Maybe the healing is done, and we have yet to simply validate it.
The real and raw truth is that we all learn the same lessons, just at different times. I may have healed from generational traumas and childhood wounds, but the future only holds what else I need to — or will need to — heal from. Whereas others around me, have learned certain lessons early on which may greet me later down the line. It’s cyclical, just like everything else.
Here I stand with such a beautiful life that I prayed and worked for; I’ve sifted through the psychological turmoil, continue to attend therapy, and learned to be present and breathe into the now.
I felt like I wanted someone else to give me my flowers. For others to notice and congratulate me on just how much I’ve worked on and healed through, for years. The truth is no one will know; for they weren’t — and aren’t — in my skull shaped world or walking my walk.
And really, who better to give me my flowers than me?
