Healing the Past, part Five

Healing the Past, part Five

When we become fixated on a pain, a problem,
it can become larger and more prominent by
virtue of its constancy in our mind and heart.
Reliving such hurts also embeds them deeper
and deeper into our consciousness, like a
groove being worn into a surface from constant
use.

By dwelling on such horrors, we actually cause
them to drown out all other voices, all possible
light. The disappointment becomes an accepted
reality, and the obstacles seeming insurmountability
become our fate rather than our assumption.

Pain relived is intensified and strengthened with
each re-sensing. It becomes an entity unto
itself.

We are no longer open to new things, or people, or
possibilities. Or friends, family, or love. We guard
against anything hopeful because we have learned to
stifle vulnerability and hope and happiness. We don't
trust that opening ourselves up to such things can bring
anything but disaster.

Is there anything more dreadful than a life without trust?

Overcoming these depressive, anti-social, defensive
tendencies takes time and effort. Study. Retraining.
Risk. Focus. Getting back up when we fall down, no
matter how many times that is. We have to first decide
that we are at least willing to be open to life. That maybe
we overlooked some goodness and light in the world.

That we are deserving of the chance to find out.

We have to be okay with letting go of the baggage of the
past, unsure where the future is taking us. This is major.

We must stop being silent. It is insanity to continue living
our lives based on the best efforts of a wounded younger
person. No matter how well those reactions served us in
making it through, now comes the time for taking the
reigns of our own wellness. Allowing others in, recognizing
that we are not the sum of our fears and mistakes and
history.

There can be no shame without our approval. We must speak
out against our bondage, and say aloud what has torn away
at us. When we share our pain, it is shown the light of day,
and loses portions of its mystical hold over us. The darkness
burns away as we realize that others have known our pain,
but were also afraid to speak truth and be fully seen.

We are not identified by what has happened to us, nor are we
identified exclusively by what we have done in our acting out.
These are lies that were told by ourselves and others to
prevent transformation from taking place. There is an entire
world of possibility outside the dark and secretive corners of
our minds. We cannot afford the silence anymore.

The stoic husband, the doting daughter, the icy controller; these
are not roles that fulfill our purpose in the world. They were
temporary containers to help transport us from the pain of the
past to a safe place where healing can begin.

As they say, we are only as sick as our secrets. By releasing the
hold on secrets, we release their hold on us. We find out that
the power they maintained in our hypothetical worst case
scenarios was nothing remotely related to reality. We dwelt on
the dark past until it tainted our present and even the future, but
that was imaginings.

When we allow others access to our world, and we allow ourselves
access to the outside world, we discover that there is more to the
universe than our limited perspective. Hearing what others think,
even when critical and disagreeable, can be the catharsis for
a new understanding as to what is real and what was leftover insane
thinking.

Without light, there can be no growth. And many of us locked
ourselves into deep, dark, isolated places to avoid everything...
including the light.

I bring up sex in the context of recovery because sex is integral.
Sex is part of identity, whether we have good notions or bad in
its expression. I daresay most every addict either had their sex
lives affected adversely by their addiction, or came to addiction
because their sex lives (by choice or lack of voice) had adversely
affected their lives. It is not an outside issue.

Not addressing sex and its impact on our lives is part of the
warped, schizoid, puritanical, oppressive thinking that led most
of us into a program of recovery in the first place. Not allowing
people in the rooms to discuss what their needs and history are
without fear of further judgment or shame is a crime. It allows
those of us most in need of help to be victimized all over again.

Suppressing truth is part of the sickness. Lies kill.

Today, I will be a part of the solution.
I will speak my truth.
I will not be defined by others' limitations.

There are others who have these histories, these feelings, these
pains. They live silently fearing that anyone might ever find out.
They live a double life, even in recovery. No one should ever
have to apologize for who they are or where they come from.
Speaking up is the first step to insure that doesn't happen again.