I realised that the pattern was repeating over and over.
One day, I decided to face it.
I opened my wounds and surrendered.
Praying for healing,
Feeling the pain.
Then, it came.
I mustered enough courage to sit with the sensations in my body, feeling them, instead of
shutting it, numbing it,
running away, wishing away,
I stood there and faced it.
It was painful.
It felt like
my heart was shattered into thousand pieces.
my gut was wrenched out.
the nerves in my head pulled in all directions.
as if I was looted of every ounce of blood from my body.
It was raw.
It was cathartic.
Tears weren’t enough to bear them. Self pity did not help.
I cried, I begged, I screamed, I wallowed.
Finally, I gave up.
I breathed.
I just breathed, feeling the breath.
I had to let it all in before letting it all go.
Then, came some relief.
I see glimpses of freedom and joy,
It feels like a triumph.
It feels soft.
It feels calm.
It feels good.
It feels god.
That must be the healing.
This is how the process of healing trauma seems to me. I did not know where the pain came from.
