The mind is a deceitful trickster. It masks our pain and fools us into believing fables. Events of the past ~ and our emotive responses to those events ~ become a blur of ‘mostly good’ and ‘it wasn’t that bad’ even when the opposite is true. The past is not as rose-colored as we pretend; seeing it that way is a survival mechanism.
It is why we so often forget the things that happened ~ and the way things happened ~ until we are hit with an unexpected reminder. Then the past comes crashing back.
It has been said, ‘Time heals all wounds.’
I do not agree.
Serrated scars regenerate slowly, and each layer of tender tissue that builds is more sensitive than the last. The scabs rip too readily and there is no stopping the flow – we bleed hot tears and there is no way to sew up the gash. Somewhere in our minds we know we are wounded, but it is an inconsistent agony. So we go about our daily business, not wary enough of the dangers we traverse. Until suddenly, unexpectedly, we are hit with a force of blinding pain. And we are rent with each new laceration, bleeding ~ against our will ~ again.
So it is with certain types of trauma. The somatic memory remains, no matter how diligently the brain works to make us forget.
Because the body remembers.
The wounds remain.
The psychophysiology of trauma.
Every August, my body remembers.
And my heart will forever carry a ghost ache that is impossible to forget.
In time, the mind, protecting its sanity,
covers them with scar tissue . . .
But it’s okay.
I’m okay.
I still weep with the remembrance of what could not be, but I can talk about it now.
Healing is a slow process.
And grieving is a never-ending one.
Because the body remembers.
. . . and the pain lessens.
*I* remember.
She would have been nine years old this month.
But it is never gone.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
It has been said, ‘time heals all wounds.’ I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.”
~ Rose Kennedy
20 in June. My heart goes out to you. It never goes away but the pain does fade. Find a way to mark the date, privately, and allow yourself the time to grieve every year.
<3
I once heard someone talk of this loss and in doing so realized that she was a mother. It didn’t look like the “normal” motherhood we see but I thought it was beautiful, endearing state of loving. I say this respectfully with a smile and a hug, Happy Mother’s Day. xoxo
Most people who meet me automatically assume I am a mother; I have *that* look about me, somehow. For a long time, it hurt when strangers would ask things like, “How old are your kids?” or when the drive-thru barista would say “Happy Mother’s Day” based on that assumption.
I’ve gotten to a place now, though, where I embrace that part of my identity. ‘Mother’ is a heart-place. And the fact that I have no living children does not make me any less of one.
Thank you for the smile, and the hug. And most especially, for the respect. <3
xoxo
What you said is the heart of the matter, through and through, end of story. xo
” ‘Mother’ is a heart-place. And the fact that I have no living children does not make me any less of one.”
Thank you for leading me to this post. It certainly resonated with me on a level that hits incredibly hard. I’m unfolding the layers, one by one and I think I’m scared to go any further because I’ve never addressed the issue and if I’m honest, I’m afraid to do so.
18 years for me….
x
Grief is such a strange phenomenon; a universal yet incredibly individual experience. Some wounds never heal completely. There is a poignant comfort at times, I think, in knowing we are not alone. <3
The comfort of knowing we are not alone is huge.
As is the opportunity to speak freely about it. I am lucky to be a mother to live children too, but the loss is still a hard thing to let go of. 13 years ago almost, I lost a few babies. It depends how you look at it. My ex never actually considered me to have been pregnant. Probably one more of the things that created the abyss in our marriage. That and him being a @#%*^& 😉
But… I was pregnant, and their souls will remain with me forever. They come and visit me once in a while, particularly when I meditate. I am glad that I could talk about it with my kids, at least my girls know it is something that happens. They also know I don’t have regrets, because otherwise our family would be very different, I would probably never have met my living children.
Scars are healed, mostly. I don’t bleed any more when they are mentioned. And it is a great feeling. But getting to this stage wasn’t easy, and it’s only been 3 years that I first saw them in my meditation, embracing both my dead children and the live ones. That’s the day true healing started for me.
I pray that things get easier for you. But maybe, not having live children, the pain is the only thing that you feel still links you to that little girl.
If you haven’t done so, name her. All my angels have names, that my children know. It helps reminding myself that I am a mother to them too.
And know that, no matter whether the pain fades or not, she’ll be with you forever, and you’ll be her mother forever.
Sending hugs.
XO
Thank you.
It seems such an inadequate response to such an empathetic and personal comment…
But thank you. <3
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I’ve just now read this. I cannot imagine what you feel. But know that my heart goes out to you.
Thank you. It’s been a long time now.