healing. huh.
My brother and I were talking today.
Don’t worry, there’s more to this story.
The truth is that we’ve both been going through it as of late. Unbelievably so, actually. And, well, we often compare notes. We take inventory of ourselves and then try to be pretty honest with each other in terms of how we’re doing, respectively.
It’s funny, there’s so much more than words when it comes to communicating. Because, you know, when I see my brother and we’re with his kids he’ll say in a pleasant, light-hearted tone, How are you doing? And I’ll answer in kind, and we’ll both be smiling knowingly while not really giving away anything at all.
But then if we step away for a moment, his voice will lower and he’ll look serious while he asks, How are you doing? and I’ll answer just as seriously. Unless, of course, I feel like making fun of life–which can be often, I admit–and in that case, I might mention that I received a “divorce present” from a kind soul and we’ll both laugh cause whoa, crazy. Absurd. Ridiculous. And yes, funny.
Kind of.
Fine. I don’t mind taking a sacred cow and making a few hamburgers, so yes, this…stuff…is funny sometimes.
Effing funny.
But anyway, we talk. And just today we were asking each other how healed each of us feels. And the thing about the healing of a broken heart is that it’s not exactly measurable. There’s no strength test for a heart. At least not one that is performed by a physical therapist. I suppose every day is some kind of strength test, but again, the results are intangible and somewhat inconclusive.
Perhaps they can be felt in peace and hope and joy and love but I like numbers too. I’m the kind of girl who’s a little religious when it comes to using a thermometer. I won’t acknowledge that I am sick unless I have a fever, unless I actually read those little numbers that tell me something is wrong.
And I don’t know of a thermometer for my heart.
It’s just interesting and confusing.
I want to be healthy; I know I’m probably a way off from that.
I want to run with all the other cool kids on the playground; I am broken and so probably won’t be running for some time.
I’ve never been good at being patient while I recuperated. Not when I was twelve and broke my foot and had to watch ballet class while all my friends got better and my casted leg just got skinnier. And not when I was in college and came down with mono and was supposed to “take it easy” while taking all my dance classes and well, “take it easy” and “dancing” aren’t anything that should ever go together. So I’d get in trouble by my teachers over and over again because if I wasn’t kicking too high I was jumping too much and really, I’m a dancer. Sue me.
But anyway, this whole process of healing is weird and new and I’m not sure I understand it well at all and I wonder what it will look like to be all patched up inside again. I wonder what it will feel like and I wonder if maybe I won’t always have moments of sadness that steal my laughter right out of my mouth because suddenly, I remember what’s happened and can hardly believe it all over again.
Or maybe healing will look more like remembering but not feeling so sad. Because, instead, I will see something better than I could have imagined and I won’t even have to try to remember it because it will be all around me, the beautiful reality that I wake to and the last thought that whispers within me before I sleep at night.
in I Lift My Eyes Up, Loved Ones, Thoughts and Feelings
as broken heart, brother, Don, healing, heart, kind, kind soul, little numbers, sacred cow, strength test, Sue, today
My name is Jessica and this is a nice, quiet space that I like to cram with words.
This is what I love to see in you and is so amazing, this openness to hope that one day this mountain will be cast into the sea. And maybe you will look and think There used to be a mountain here, but instead of seeing this mountain or the broken rock where the mountain used to be you will see fields and vineyards and the wonderful people that live in the land where the mountain once was.
Let me know when you see it, I want to recognize it too.
well, thank you, PJ…and yes, I will be sure to let you know when I see it…I hope I can recognize it…
This thing of healing is so strange. Because when trauma happens, you become different. And when you are healed, you are different than before.
And I find healing sometimes confusing. For instance, when I lost two babies in my early 20s, I thought I wouldn’t ever be happy again. I was just so very sad. Then, after a few years, I became pregnant with Jason–and it looked so much like I was going to lose him too. But he made it! Then came all of the rest of you with no trouble at all. Now here’s the confusion: I will always remember the babies I lost, but we never would have known Jason, Jonathan, and you if those first two babies had lived on earth.
So–that last comment was from my mom…I don’t have any babies, haven’t lost any babies, and certainly did not give birth to either of my brothers OR myself!
But yeah, mom–it sure is a mixed bag…and of course I am grateful that you did have us–but I will also be happy to meet a couple more Latshaws some day…
This was from me-Jess’ Mom–rather than from Jess.
I agree…the whole process is weird and strange. I think there are levels of healing. I know I feel better than when everything seemed to be crashing down around us, but then I will see or hear something that stirs up some emotion or other and suddenly it’s like someone ripped off a scab and I hurt all over again. There is also an accompanying sense of dread that it’s not really over yet, that the ringing phone will bring more bad news, and a wondering if this whole situation will ever be over. Or, will this be my life now…thinking progress has been made, that things are getting better when, suddenly, “ha ha, the joke’s on you!”, and it starts all over again. I wonder if that’s how cancer patients feel when they are in remission. Do they have a sense of dread, a waiting for the other shoe to drop? I would imagine there are similarities between the physical healing process and the emotional healing process. Like when people who have had a broken bone that has healed feel some of that old pain when the weather is cold and damp, right? You’re right, it changes you. And, even when you are feeling better, it is still a part of you, somewhere deep…but hopefully, not the larger part of you.
yeah, I think everything is connected–the spirit and the body, the visible and the invisible–and so, everything sorta reflects each other…good point–healing the body and healing the soul can’t be that different, but still a little more confusing since it’s not like you can either walk on your soul or you can’t, you know?
Jess – so how are you DOING??
Jonathan, I can hear the low rumble in your voice. The kids must be in bed.
yep, the kids are DEFINITELY in bed.
haha now can you say it like Joey from Friends??
Jessica,
Healing. Oh my I could seriously write a book on it. I have spent the majority of my adult life healing from my childhood. I won’t go into the details but the highlights are: my mother was an abusive drug addict and she physically abused me for 6 years. Our house was in constant turmoil because my parents fought constantly over money because of my mother’s addictions and how she was spending money on drugs. But I digress.
I wholeheartedly agree with you. Healing is very weird. I went through it off and on for many years. The last and final period of healing was without a doubt the weirdest but also the best because I finally came to a point of completion where I felt like everything was…well…GOOD. I felt normal and balanced for the first time in my life.
This was all very recent. And since then I have experienced that summer day you described. I don’t know you well but you seem to be a very strong woman to me. Healing doesn’t go on forever. There will come a time where you feel a sense of completion. And you will be a better woman for it.
You will have your summer day. And it will be more amazing than you could ever imagine. God Bless You Jessica!
wow, Richelle…thank you for sharing that, here…I’m sorry for all the pain that you’ve know intimately–but how amazing that you can now say that yes, life is good…this is beautiful, indeed. And thank you for the encouragement:)