the scars that are hardest to heal

 

Those of us who support the narrative medicine/narrative healing movement would like you to believe that the simple (or not so simple) act of telling your story and knowing it has been heard can bring about healing. How does that happen?

"I will soothe you and heal you.

I will bring you roses.

I, too, have been covered with thorns."

~Rumi~

Perhaps something like this has happened to you:

You wake up and it's a beautiful day. The sun is shining. Your bills are paid. The laundry is done. You pick up a good book and head out to the porch to read. But you can't concentrate. You sense a heaviness in your chest, and you can't stop sighing. You're tired, even though you haven't done much all day. You feel a certain sadness but you don't have anything to be sad about. Your neighbor sees you and comes over to say hello. She immediately senses something is wrong. You shrug her off, and then it hits you. This is where you were sitting when you heard the screeching tires that you knew meant trouble. This is the same kind of beautiful September day you lost your dog on the street in front of your house. Seventeen years ago. 

"If you never heal from what hurt you,

you'll bleed on people who did not cut you."

~Karen Salmonsohn~

Or, you go out for the mail and in it is an invitation to your friend's baby shower. You burst into tears. Because you never got to have a baby shower. You lost the baby before anyone knew you were pregnant, so you never told anyone. Or maybe you were never able to get pregnant in the first place. And your arms feel so empty.

Or, maybe your story plays out like this. You didn't mean to put a dent in the fender the first time you took the car out alone when you were sixteen. Your father told you to be careful when he handed you the keys, and you promised you would. Then, a ball rolled out into the street and to avoid it, you swerved and grazed a tree in someboby's yard. You knew you'd be in trouble when you got home, but you didn't expect a beating for it. I mean, you were being careful, and it wasn't your fault. But your dad had been drinking that day, and when he saw what had happened, he hauled off and bloodied your nose, and gave you a huge swollen black eye. In school the next day, you told the teacher you'd slipped and fallen down the basement stairs. And that was the end of it, but not really. Now your heart races and your head throbs and you break out in a sweat every time your own son takes the car out. And you don't know why.

"The scars you can't see

are the hardest to heal."

~Unknown~

If you sometimes react to situations in ways that don't make sense, or you can't explain why you feel sad, or tired, or anxious, or people often ask you what's wrong, your untold story may be hiding in the shadows, playing tricks on you. Because until you call it by name you may not know it's lurking there.

When you give your story a title, and describe how it unfolded, you may begin to understand why it still disturbs your peace after all these years. If someone you trust is listening, you may come away with an entirely fresh perspective on it. You may be able to forgive yourself, or the person who hurt you. You may be able to cast aside some of the things you've always imagined were wrong with you, but never were. Your energy may improve, your headaches may lessen, your heart may open. 

If your story has been under lock and key for years, or you've forgotten where you left it, or you can't imagine finding the words to express it, you should consider getting back to work on it. Somebody else may need to hear it.

"Just because no one can heal you 

or do your inner work for you

doesn't mean you can, or should, or need to

do it alone."

~Lisa Olivera~

jan