Slow Work of Healing

As I write this, it's a cold, cloudy January day. From my office window, I see patches of grass untouched by the snow. My heart longs to feel the soft warmth of summer grass beneath my bare feet. As it is, I rarely go outside (and even then, only if I absolutely have to!), but yet I know walking beneath the barren trees and filling my lungs with fresh air is the exact medicine I need to put some life back into my body and soul.

Thinking about my less-than-enthusiastic feelings toward winter turned my thoughts to all the ways I avoid the colder, darker parts of myself. Just as I refuse to see the beauty and purpose that winter holds, I ignore the anger, sadness and pain I carry within. I prohibit the growth that comes from acceptance of these heavier emotions.

A friend shared an analogy with me recently, and I'd like to share it with you. She said, " Imagine I give you a 300 page hardcover book and ask you to hold it in front of you with one hand. You would be able to hold it with no reservations. However, if you had to hold that same book for an hour or more, it would be very difficult, if not impossible. The same is true for our emotions. We were never meant to carry them with us for months, years, or decades. We have to hold them, feel their weight, and then let them go." As she shared this beautiful nugget of truth, I felt the weight of all the stuck emotions I have carried around for decades. These emotions manifest in depression, self hatred, jealousy, anxiety, isolation, addictions, and feeling like I am never enough.

Letting go of years of pain is not an easy job. I have found it to be, at times, an ugly, raw process. For me, it shows up at the most inconvenioent times. I dipped my toes into wedding photography a few years ago. I absolutely love celebrating love. I am a hardcore romantic, and I know there are few photographers who get as excited as I do about other peoples' love stories. Playing a small part in someone's wedding day was such a privilege, and I poured my heart into capturing every detail. However, there was one part of the wedding day tradition that rocked me to my core and, ultimately led me to talk myself out of pursueing more weddings. The dance between the father-of-the-bride and the bride would invoke instant tears and an eruption of emotions so painful I could barely hold myself together. The guilt I felt for not being able to feel joy for the bride and her father during that poignant dance left me feeling more and more broken. It was an in-my-face reminder that I will never have the experience of a loving, protective father.

Jump forward to my current role as the wife of a beautiful, supportive man, and bonus mom to his two sweet daughters. My husband is (hands down) the best father I have ever had the honor of knowing. He loves his daughters with every fiber of his being and he pours love, encouragement, and protection into them every single day. These girls are beyond blessed in the father department! Seeing him with his girls is one of the main reasons I fell in love with him. Knowing this, imagine the shame and confusion I feel when insecurity and jealousy well up in me when he tells me he's taking them out to dinner, just the three of them. Rationally I know this a great thing - a positive, healthy thing to do, but emotionally I feel as if I'm bleeding out on the floor. Each time I experience these feelings, I carry more shame and self hatred, and I feel more and more angry that the love and support I needed from my dad as a little girl was non existent.

I have been in therapy for over five years, and I am just beginning to feel and release the anger and sadness I have carried with me for the past 44 years. Last month, after a particularly powerful therapy session the night before, I awoke early to journal my thoughts. As my pen wrote out the emotions I was feeling onto the pages, I began sobbing. The sad sobbing transformed into screams of rage. I held a pillow to my face and screams so visceral came out of my body that my throat hurt for two days. Afterwards, I felt as if I had gone to war with myself. A groundedness and a peace took up residence in my chest where heaviness and frigid cold had dwelled before. I walked through that day feeling a little lighter, a little more empowered. I have since spent many mornings journaling, hoping for the same release, but it hasn't come through again. I have resolved that releasing emotions of such significance cannot be forced; they come out when you are ready to fully accept them. Trusting the process is part of the process. More will be revealed as I continue to put in the work of loving and respecting all parts of me, especially the parts I wish would go away. They're the ones that need the most love.

Out my window, I see beautiful white snow that makes a satisfying "crunch" sound under my boots. I see trees void of leaves, but I know the trees need rest and are preparing for new leaves to emerge this spring. I look to my garden and appreciate that beneath the frozen ground sleep seeds and bulbs that will arise in their own time. I leave the warmth of my home and the cold air hits my cheeks and my nose, turning them the faintest shade of pink. The air feels sharp and crisp as I breathe it in, and it wakes my lungs with every inhale. I'm not able to comfortably walk barefoot through the yard or feel the warmth of the soil between my fingers, but I am starting to see the value of the rest that winter brings. I simply need to let go and accept the season. As I let go and accept that my life, along the parts I wish were different, is exactly as it should be, I find the rest I need.