There is no such thing as being healed. We talk about being whole, cured of whatever ills we suffer. But after today I’ve realized that the process of healing, of being cured, is continual. There is no end product, the journey itself is what is healthy and what gives us what we truly seek. Taking those steps, each minute, every day fills the hole in our heart. Or in most cases, the many deficits we carry around in our hearts. Buried deeply within, swept under the rug of too busy to let anything impede our so called progress in our lives, our careers, we fail to see the costs until those dark moments of the soul.
I had one today. It erupted as I read the words of a friend who openly talks about the pain of writing memoir, of telling our stories. We talked, or I should say I talked, told her a secret and let myself feel what it was like to give life to darkness. It enveloped me and dropped me into a well. I didn’t fight it, I fell…
Listening to her say things my head already knew her words opened and blossomed in my heart. I lifted my head, dried my tears and examined who I was in the then and the now.
I can look back and see how fragile I was then and in the looking I can feel the strength it gives me now.
Good to have such a friend who speaks love and courage to me when I needed it.