Going In Circles

 

The other day I was listening to a sermon, a very good sermon I might add, but also a difficult one.  It was difficult because it opened up within me a world of painful memories.  The pastor spoke about his childhood, a disappointing childhood, a hard childhood and how even at school he found himself compared too often to another boy, one whose family life was stable, who hadn't the things against him that the pastor was experiencing in his childhood life.  The pastor spoke of his hurt, his loss of hope, the sense of never being enough.  Indeed, not just feeling he would never be enough but being told by grown-ups in his life that he wasn't enough.  Not smart enough.  Not responsible enough. Not good enough.  Not stable enough.  

Inside, I had so much turmoil.  Pain and hurt mingled with a bit of anger at myself that I wasn't done with all the hurt in my own life.  Just when I thought I'd come to a place of peace, I found I'd merely circled the mountain again instead of moving on to the promised land filled with the balm of healing from all my hurts.  I resented that these emotions felt so strong even now at this late age.  I wondered if I would ever cease to feel the agony of not being enough... I felt betrayed by all of my emotions.  

I had some hard dreams over the next few nights.  Dreams in which I was always behind, always struggling to do what others expected me to do and failing repeatedly at those tasks.  I had dreams in which I was late, woefully late, and yet I was struggling so hard to catch up and get going that I woke tensed with the effort I'd expended in the dreams.  

During the daylight, I tamped it all back down neatly into place and went about my day, but night revealed how far I had to go to reach the state of healed.

And then I stumbled upon a quote on Pinterest that was revelatory.

Healing happens in circles, not lines.   You'll return to old places with new eyes.

The moment I read those words I understood why I kept coming back around that mountain.  I wasn't returning to the exact time of hurt.  That was past. But I was seeing it from a higher place.  From a higher intellectual, emotional and spiritual level.  

I'd forgiven myself and others.  I'd experienced the grief as a child while it was fresh and as an adult when it was beginning to feel stale, who understood even more than the child how painful it was to be there in that place.  I'd learned more about how to protect myself, and at the same time, how to be vulnerable to the right people so that healing could continue.  I'd learned to grieve the losses and celebrate the gains.  I'd let go of bitterness and regret.  I'd come to accept that it had shaped me in as many positive ways as it had negatively.   And I'd learned how to soothe that child that wanted to cry and weep now, shedding all the tears she'd swallowed.  That unhappy child has a fierce protector in the woman I've grown into over the years.  I've become who I am because of her woundedness and her willingness to heal.  

I was a little more healed than the last trip around the mountain. 

Growth is circular, too.