All the years I’ve spent in a counselor’s office trying to sift through the rubble of my childhood and heal, I never encountered the priceless, cherished moments that populate the early years of most. They just weren’t a commodity I was raised with.
I’m not being a victim by sharing this, it’s just factual. As I scan my mind’s bank for pleasant deposits – I can find some, sure! Playing board games with my father was good. Watching my mom prepare a meal in the kitchen, that was pleasant enough.
Cherished memories from my childhood? I just don’t think I have any.
It’s a challenge to live in full awareness of where I come from. In the past, I was desperate to modify it and add more good than was there. I had a fantastic counselor that had a keen attention to detail. He would not allow to me to embellish by applying denial while I was in his office. Oh, I could try but he knew and held me accountable to the facts.
That’s where healing gets really tough.
No one really wants to hear your story – and that includes you!
Is there really any novelty in revealing your own pain? Is there any pleasure in unearthing the treasures your mind has stored away to protect you from the pain that was too great to bear in that moment?
No! These are not gifts you truly want to open.
When I hadn’t explored my past, I was a vacant person but I had a good smile. That’s really all others folks cared about. Now, the most difficult part is that my pain leaks here and there. I feel vulnerable to a fault!
I want to tell myself to harden the fuck up, but the very work I did in years of counseling was to surrender to softness by unveiling the mask I wore. I feel like now I’m just so dog-gone tender.
It embarrasses me! All this work to heal, I now might show up and cry. What the heck!
I didn’t know I was signing up for this much openness. I don’t really like it much unless it’s with my children or grandchildren. And, even then, it is work to stay in the active part of healing. Authentic and genuine.
I kind of liked pretending better. I could make up a story and present whatever I wanted the listener to believe.
I won’t do that any more.
I used to look more put together back then. Oh, well, I’m certainly more happy and at peace. My eyes just leak more now than they once did.
I think that’s so true. Once I let the floodgates open, it was difficult then to close them again. It was like now that I truly know how to feel, I can’t stop it anymore.
And why would you want to stop it now? It is what makes me feel alive now and thru it I find peace.
It was so overwhelming initially, crying at the least little thing. And I quite liked being able to hide what I was feeling, now everyone says I’m like an open book. My face speaks the words my mouth won’t lol 🙂
Yes, I resemble your remark. I like it too. The alternative is not very good.