“It’s all going to be okay.” It’s what to say when there’s nothing to say. We want to stare but have been trained to look away. With the “unwounded” we can talk for hours. About the wound’s shapes, causes, and colors. Admiring the “could have’s” “can you believe!’s” and “could be’s.” Another way of saying, “I’m glad it’s not me.” Without having to say it. All along knowing, without knowing, it is me. It’s just easier to believe, it’s them. Festering out of view. Thank God. No awkward questions. No wandering eyes. Not even our own. Delicate and protected, thriving under smooth skin. Spreading, undetected. Breaching the tender surface, just for a second: A reaction. Inaction. A word. Silence. An attack. A defense. Pain. Indifference. Symptoms are managed and the wound burrows deeper. Fragile control even feigns closure. Can't risk another exposure. They say that rock bottom is when you stop digging. So, how do I know when I’m digging out, or further down? They say that time heals all. So, why do I get better at hiding? They say what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. So, why do I feel so weak? I can’t do this any longer. “It’s all going to be okay.” We say again, and again. And again. Until it isn’t. And healing begins.
The Story of Healing
It’s okay to have nothing to say. Love is resisting the urge to look away. No matter the shape, no matter the size–unique colors and lines–met with unassuming eyes. Not wondering what “could be,” or “why me?” Not “here’s what you should do” or "here we go again" or “I’ve been there before.” …I’m here, now. Another way of saying, “we’re never alone.” Without having to say it. Knowing it’s all of us. Every one. Wandering eyes are mirrors for wounds in disguise. Thank God. Open and exposed, the infection stops spreading. Offering hope, just for a second: Intention, Awareness, Forgiveness, Release. Peace. Softening, until control is out of reach. They say that rock bottom is when you stop digging. And I drop the shovel. They say that time heals all. And I quit managing. They say what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. And I embrace weakness. To awaken each gift. Though there’s nothing to say it’s all going to be okay.
Another solid one. Reminds me of the book The Rabbit Listened by Cori Doerrfeld.