I’m all about healing: our bodies, our minds, our souls, our lives–and yes, I’ve got wounds that need healing, too. I say it to others, but I say it to myself, too: It’s possible to help heal yourself.
At this age –nearly 70! –it’s almost dizzying to be confronted with my own wounds and the stark recognition that there is still healing to be done. Working on a big memoir project–a solo performance that will one day, be a memoir–yes, ass-backwards, probably but, hey, that’s me–I am excavating the wounds of my past.
First, I applaud myself for still standing, after living through a traumatic childhood. And I congratulate myself, also, for being pretty functional.
And then I allow myself to be vulnerable so that I can let the wounds come out the other end of my keyboard. I’m never sure what they’ll be until they are on the page. And then, when I read them back, I am incredibly touched at the resilience of that little girl I was once.
Being this vulnerable is a BFD to me. I have never allowed myself to go to the places that, at one time, weren’t safe. But as I go there now, at the keyboard, I see that the act of opening up enough to allow myself to feel and then write those feelings is healing, in and of itself.
Maybe you don’t write. But maybe you’ve got pain that you haven’t dealt with. Or maybe anxiety.
Like me, perhaps you’ll find this exercise, by the always inspirational writer, Mark Nepo, helpful, from The Book of Awakening:
When you can, walk or sit by a lake or pond. Watch the leaves float on the surface.
Breathe like a fallen leaf and think of nothing.
Just breathe. Let your heart and mind be carried, however briefly, by the spirit you can’t quite see.
If you’d like to see the book, find it here.
If you’d like to see the tools I offer to support healing, find them here.