Friday, August 29, 2014

Learning and healing. Uneven, pt 3


I wasn’t going to write a third post here, but as usual, when I write a post the topic will stay with me until I work it through to the end.  Though I’ll admit some of the comments and an email I received certainly helped with the process.
The response I wrote to the email came out so well, that I thought I needed to share some of it here.  The writer wanted to make sure I wasn’t ignoring my gut, or trying to suppress resentment, which would ultimately cause problems later on.  That isn’t the case, so I tried to explain it.
“The recent posts really have absolutely nothing to do with Ann, other than this relationship is illuminating issues that I didn’t know I had.  In a way, this is the best possible thing that could happen.  In Buddhism, they teach people to be thankful for relationships that challenge us, that push us in new ways, because that’s how we find our internal barriers and learn to move past them.  I haven’t been in a relationship that pushed me this much in a long time and ultimately it will make me a better person (It could also be pointed out that this is the first serious relationship I’ve had since Cat).
And it’s not my gut I’m trying to ignore, it’s the part of me that has been hurt by others.  The part that’s scared, insecure, and has been jading my perceptions even if I didn’t realize it.  Ann has never caused me pain, the only pain I’m facing now is old wounds, mostly from Cat, that I thought I was over.  Now, I have an opportunity to face those pains and finally get over them.  I’m incredibly thankful toward Ann for that.
Writing about them is part of the healing process.  It makes me really dig into them, think them through, and face them.  That’s why I wrote the posts.  Hopefully that makes sense.”
I also wrote an email to Ann last night explaining that all of this had nothing to do with her, with anything she’s done.  She’s an absolutely amazing woman and every day I’m thankful that she’s a part of my life.
“Ok, one last thought before I run off to bed.  When we were together you mentioned that you thought I was healing you.  I don’t think I understood how much healing I needed myself.  I’m egotistical, I tend to think I’ve got everything figured out.  Yet, our relationship sometimes puts me in an uncomfortable mental places, but I love you so much that I try and figure out why it’s uncomfortable, so I can fix it.  You push me in unexpected directions and I find wounds that I had ignored or glossed over.  I hadn’t realized how much of me was still hurting until I met you.  I was practically a broken man and didn’t realize it, but I’m finding these wounds and fixing them because of you.
For as much as you think I’m healing you, you’re healing me as well.”
Writing is an absolutely vital part of that healing process.  It’s like a safety valve, that releases the pressure, and a therapist all rolled up into one.   It’s the process of me answering the big questions for myself.  I don’t write them for anyone but me, though I post them in the hopes that maybe it will give others another perspective to look at.  Maybe answering some of my own questions, addressing some of my own problems, will help others address theirs.
So, I purge all of my thoughts onto the page.  I sort through them, organize them, and find comfort through writing them.  As difficult as it may be to write the hard posts, I feel infinitely better when I do.
I wasn’t going to write a third part, but hopefully this gives more insight to the previous two posts.

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