I want to talk about…
what brought me here in the first place: my husband’s hurtful words.
It is said that with any trauma, if you don’t die from it, you become stronger, and eventually, you are able to speak on it without feeling it in your body or in your heart. As time goes on it becomes easier to separate yourself from said trauma. It becomes something “outside” of you allowing you to function in your life again.
The saying is something like the only way out is through.
I recently recognized that I had stepped around, jumped over, and ignored that trauma like you would a bully in high school.
Maybe that’s why the hurt lingered. It became as much a part of me as my morning routine. And covering it with a sweater or a backpack only accentuated its presence.
My hurt became my favorite accessory.
Taking the Trauma off Like a Garment
Sometimes you have to run first before you can face the pain. You need to flee from everything that caused or may have contributed to that pain. Like family for example.
I was very aware of my need to disconnect from everyone, and everything connected to my husband.
Maybe it’s because we are older now and we have been together so long that, this time, he faced my flight head on and without meaning to he released my pain.
There are auto accidents and near auto accidents. In a near car accident, the driver is so focused on getting all passengers out of danger, that they are eerily quiet.
The passenger on the other hand screams for dear life. Weirdly, they have no memory of that scream. Shock, I’m sure.
The sound that came out of me was like that of a passenger in a near car accident. It was a whaling that was simultaneously hollow and dense.
The hurt just wouldn’t go away.
He said the sound brought him to his knees.
I had finally stripped it off myself and flung it to the floor. The pile sat like a mountain between us.
Holding on to Pain
One interesting side effect to physical pain is that it reminds you that you are alive. It takes you out of your head and fills up your body. You can suddenly feel the ground beneath you. The air becomes sweet. Everything is right in front of you.
Emotional pain, on the other hand, is created in your head and although you can feel it in your body, it is only a symptom. A symptom that causes you to be blind and deaf to life all around you. All you can feel is your pain.
Sounds so easy to let go of EP, doesn’t it? Just decide. Although, it is nearly impossible if you’re not ready.
I knew what I had to do. The decision was mine: hold on to this one fragment of the past or let it go and see what this new reality would look like.
It confused me because I was happy (with myself and with him) I could feel myself evolving, growing, learning, thriving, with plenty of joyful moments.
I asked myself what was this little pebble of discontent lodged in my ribs; This seed stuck in my teeth; This ember that wouldn’t catch fire or die out?
Was It Doubt?
I thought that I could let go of anything. Why couldn’t I let go of this one thing?
I know that my parents had instilled this insecurity in me at a young age, I know that I chose to marry a man who validated that insecurity, I know now that I didn’t have to accept any of it.
What I did not realize was that it had been given to me with love, wrapped and bowed, accompanied by chocolate and flowers.
Throughout my life I would take out the small package and marvel at this precious gift that I was given. And it makes me laugh now to think that I could be so strong in every other area of my life.
I do feel doubt pretty much daily. Doesn’t everybody? However, most times I manage to shake it off like that rich lady drops her fur in the movie Dirty Dancing.
I keep moving. I tell doubt to shush and go sit in the corner.
Makes me wonder, maybe this isn’t doubt?
Was It Love?
Was holding on to my pain a way to honor and love myself by always acknowledging it and giving it importance?
I was very aware of how I capped the love that I gave my husband. Yet, I was not aware that I was doing the same thing to myself.
What I can see now is that my love for myself was immature. I was coddling myself; giving myself permission to complain without making change. To hold on to something that never served me.
I would encourage someone I loved to let go, move on, and deal with life’s mountains. Color me a big hypocrite.
I was telling everybody to stand tall while I was on my knees.
What I was doing to myself was denying that love is imperfect. I was living the lie that perfection was somewhere out there and that’s where I truly belonged. After I was set free, I mused, then I would love without fear and receive love without shame.
How could I expect to receive what I could not give?
What Was I Telling Myself?
I’m currently reading Self Matters by Dr. Phil McGraw. Second time around. And something on page twenty-two slapped me in the face.
First, let me say that I thought that I was over what he said. I thought I was a forgiving, compassionate, emotionally evolved, and mature, person. However, this was not the case.
Dr. Phil says, “Where you are now, everything you are, everything you do, begins with and is based on what I call your personal truth. By personal truth I mean whatever it is that you, at the absolute, uncensored core of your being, have come to believe about you.”
He goes on to say that if you are dishonest about what you really think of yourself then your personal truth will come to light when you wished it would not.
Eighty percent of the time I was operating from a place of compassion, forgiveness, acceptance, and love. The other fifteen percent of the time who I really was crashed the party, and all hell broke loose.
During those times I was petty, bitter, resentful, hateful, and anything but loving. Holding on to that fifteen percent made a mockery of everything else.
New Year’s Resolution
I realized that my breakdown was a truth bomb. I demonstrated to my husband that I was having a very difficult time getting over it, and for the first time I saw how much it hurt him, that he had hurt me.
One thing this whole experience showed me is that I have been shielding my pain from him. Furthermore, I believed that I was only of value to him if I kept the peace. As a result, I became a fair-weather wife.
The wonderful thing is that my breakdown broke him open too. I’m no longer hiding myself from him and he is expressing his love for the real me.
I was telling myself that my pain made me worthy of care and compassion. Facing the truth revealed that holding on to this unresolved hurt only garnered pity.
Dr. Phil says you cannot change what you do not acknowledge.
My New Year’s resolutions are first to finish the book and second to be honest about who I am, how I feel, and what I want and need, with my husband and myself one hundred percent of the time.
“You cannot play the game of life with confidence and assurance if your personal truth is riddled with fear and apprehension.”
Dr. Phil McGraw, Self Matters, pg. 23
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