“Not everyone is going to be willing (or able) to address their wounds, and those of us who do are in a tiny club. “My therapist reminds me that we (the healing) live in the unhealed world; they don’t t live in ours.” — Karla Kuriger, blog reader and friend.
This morning, Karla’s message got me thinking (I love people who get me thinking; they are precious to me; it’s what I always hope to do to others with my writing). I never thought the world was divided that way, but it is, along with many other ways.
Addressing one’s wounds and healing is painful, expensive, and complex.
I’ve been writing a lot about healing, and just today, someone wrote and said she thought I was healing because of Zip. Others have told me I am healing because of Maria, my flower pictures, Simon the Donkey, Rose and Red the Dogs, or my pictures. One friend says the secret is in a former life; another studies one’s aura.
The Buddhists believe healing comes from living in the moment.
For some years, my healing work has been towards addressing my unhealed wounds. Very few people in this world get the chance to do that; I never forget that.
All of those things coming into my life can be true. Healing doesn’t come from one thing but many things, not one time but many times. Even my therapy, which has been so essential to me, wasn’t the only thing. Neither was my beloved Maria, Red, Zip, Rose, my farm, or photography.
These are not the things that brought me healing; they are the things that healing brings to me. It’s so easy to get it backward.
It is now clear that I am healing and edging toward a healthier consciousness and life. It’s not a straight line.
One reader wrote that she was disappointed in me, that even though I said I would give up arguing and trying to defend myself, I still did it once in a while. I smiled at the message. She doesn’t know that the process can never end and never will. I can learn what I ought to and want to do, but I can’t take my DNA out of my body and hang it on the line to dry.
Wanting to do it and doing it are two very different things.
I will always be me, just hopefully, a better me than the one I was and still am. I can never be anyone but me.
It’s complex for me and for anyone who decides to heal. Healing is not a wish; it’s a process. It requires a level of self-awareness that few of us ever have the time to embrace. Life demands a lot of us; silence and reflection are not usually one of them.
People always tell me that I am changing, and that is true.
I also know that people like me can never change fully, they can only become wiser, smarter, and more self-aware. I knew I would have to seek help to be healthier from the beginning.
I can improve, but I accept that I will always be me at the core, and I am finally okay with that.
I’m a good human, so far as humans go, given that I was broken in many ways just a few years ago and still show it now and then. Healing is about what being alive means to me; it is not a decision but an arduous task that requires truth, work, and absolute commitment.
None of us can evolve to perfection, and it’s not my goal to be sainted or elected to some public office. I will always make mistakes and poor decisions, but over time, those mistakes become smaller, less harmful, and less frequent.
Three things have been necessary for me to heal and continue healing. I am happy to share them, hoping they will be a part of my own healing—authenticity always is—and understanding that we are not all alike.
I always tell people that what works for them will not necessarily work for me. I never tell other people what to do; I only tell them what I do.
My three ways of healing:
First, it takes a lot of hard, gritty work. I had to go inside, face who I was, and measure how far it was from who I wanted to be.
That also meant figuring out who and what I really wanted to be.
That might sound easy, but it is not.
Moving to the country helped; I had space, quiet, money, time and beauty to reflect.
I learned to meditate and find time for silence and deep reflection.
We need more time to think about our lives; we are too busy living them, paying our bills, and scrambling for security in an insecure society.
Falling in love was a wonderful surprise that motivated me to be worthy of this wonderful new person in my life.
I spent a year on a mountainside with Thomas Merton and two dogs. I saw the promise of a spiritual life.
Secondly, I needed help. I could not heal alone. Getting help was the most important decision I have ever made about my life, and its impact was far more significant than that of any dog or cat, no matter how much I loved them.
I first found a Freudian psychoanalyst from Vienna, living in New York City. She had worked with a daughter of Signund Freud.
I saw her four times a week for four years. Later, after I moved to the country, I found a more modern and tougher therapist who pulled the truth out of me, showed me that I had broken down, lost all perspective, and led me to truth and reality.
Fifteen years later, I still talk with her at least once a month, sometimes more. Working with her, I came to terms with myself, stopped having panic attacks, and began living the life I always wanted, now that I knew what it was.
I decided that I was living another man’s life, not mine. I made the awful and wrenching decision to dissolve my family and leave everything that was familiar.
I moved to the country. Once I understood what that meant, I started living my own life before I was ready.
Then, on cue, I broke down. Help took on a different hue. I got some.
Maria was at my side all the time, all the time, and still is. I doubt anyone can do what I did without getting help.
I believe that applies to anyone who has experienced trauma and abuse and wants to be healthy and free of that awful load of fear and pain.
And then the third step, desire.
I had to want to change.
I had to mean it. I wanted to heal, and I wanted my pain and anger to be softer and less destructive. I wanted to be someone who does good and leaves the world a little better than he found it.
That’s who I wanted to be. I wanted to be less angry and less fearful. I knew I had to work at it every day, not just once in a while.
Karla was speaking the truth.
People who suffer from unhealed wounds are rarely comfortable around me, and I am seldom completely comfortable around them.
I always assumed that there was something wrong with me, the common fate of the abused, ignored, or abandoned child.
I make friends quickly now. Each has suffered old wounds and taken these steps to heal.
There is isolation and loneliness in a process like this; it put me in a different place than most people around me.
We know one another on sight, and they know me without speaking. In her message, Karla wrote about the need for healing people to surround themselves with a healthy and healing tribe.
That happened to me; it included people, animals, and flowers and photos.
For me, there is always some sense of isolation and loneliness.
But I have seen the truth about myself, good and bad, and I am free of other people’s judgments.
Without that, my anger has also dissipated, sometimes popping up, but rarely these days. I’ve run some of the bogeymen off.
Like any addicted person, my drug was fear and anger. I have always to be vigilant about myself. Complacency is the enemy. This work won’t ever be done.
I love Zip dearly, but I can testify that this work is far beyond the scope of any animal. He cheers me up, keeps me company, and lifts my spirits, which sometimes fail me.
I feel very good about these years. I have achieved my dream of a life with love and meaning in a place where I want to be doing the work I want to do. I am doing a lot of good.
I am well aware of how fortunate I am to be able to write those words.
Thanks, Karla, for helping me focus on this process more precisely. It’s clear enough for me to write about it, which in my life means it’s my truth.
