Hurt people will hurt people. Unfortunately, healed people can’t do the healing for those that are hurt. Hurt people have to make the choice to heal. I cannot hold someone’s hand and heal them, the best I can do is hold their hand while they heal themselves on their own terms, at their own pace. It’s a role I take on as an instructor as well. I cannot plant the knowledge into their brain, but I can do my best to present it, discuss it, and help them find the path that gets them learning the content. Teaching, advising, and parenting are all roles where we can be a support person, but we cannot make anything happen. It’s always up to the student, advisee, or child to take the steps.

Wanting to heal is just the first step. If we realize that we are hurt and are thus hurting others through our actions, then feel a desire to seek healing so we stop hurting others, that is merely our first step. The desire must be present to make change. It’s honestly a lot like addiction. We cannot heal until we make the choice that healing is the path to making things better.

Working to heal is the rough part. Working to heal… takes work. The path isn’t always clear, there are bumps in the road at every turn, and those bumps don’t smooth until we’re further down the path. I spent most of my life in therapy, but it wasn’t until I had a kid and my second divorce that the real improvement started. The work shifted, the changes happened. Good therapists are hard to find. We can talk to any therapist, but we cannot always grow with any therapist. I described it once as the difference between finding a path in the dark vs. finding a path with a guide that has lights, a partial map, and an outside perspective of the possibilities. A good therapist knows questions to ask you, exercises to practice, books you can reference, and most of all – understands you enough to guide you on a path of your choosing.

I interview therapists, and I’ve shared this with friends. I ask them about their background, their approach to therapy, what a typical session looks like, etc. However, I also ask them more personal questions relevant to myself. I like to understand the reasoning behind exercises and any science used to support practices. I ask them if they feel comfortable working with someone like me, who wants to know the “why” behind what we do. I ask them about their experience with some of my particular issues and history. I will sometimes even posit scenarios and ask them how they would handle the situation. Therapists are in demand these days, so finding a good one that truly suits you is important and a difficult process.

The act of healing is itself difficult. When we carry emotional scars long enough, we almost don’t know who we are without them. There is a sort of grief with healing. We grieve a person we once were, the pain that existed for so long and caused further pain, as well as the cause of the scar(s). It is incredible to heal. The exercises that brought me the most healing were unexpected; in every instance of healing I had to face parts of myself I had been hiding from. Every instance of shame or “pushing it down” caused scars. Those scars keep healing by the time I take to acknowledge them, care for them, and release them (of shame, or from being pushed down.) Honestly, as cliché as it sounds, loving the parts of myself I previously avoided was the key to healing myself. I have never experienced the peace I now have in light of those healed parts of myself. Love is truly the only solution, and nothing in this life will change my mind.

My story this week is about my new cats.

I grew up with a cat that came from a shelter, who was going to be euthanized the next day, and had clearly been abused prior to adopting her. She hid under the bed for a while after we got her. I bonded with her, and I gained her trust and love over time. So, when I went to visit the two cats I recently adopted and they spent the entire visit under the foster mom’s couch: I wasn’t surprised or upset. I have seen it before: they got spooked, so they retreated to a safe space.

They had some abuse by their previous owner, so when the foster mom got them they hid a lot. The older cat hid for days, and she’d never experienced that with a cat before. But, I have. My first cat did exactly the same. We tried to visit with them for a while, but ultimately had to schedule another visit and the foster mom took actions to ensure they wouldn’t hide again. This time, the younger one seemed annoyed and uninterested in me, but somewhat playful with my child (which was my hope and expectation.) The older one warmed up to me in a way that took a bit longer for the foster mom, but was still rather skittish. The older cat wanted nothing to do with my child, and that’s okay. My child is still too young to be good with animals. They want to chase the animals down and go all “Elmira” on them… We’re working on better behavior.

The thing is, when I brought them home I expected them to hide. They didn’t. 5 minutes into my home and they were rubbing my legs and seeking attention. Our presence matters. Our expectations matter. Whether with my cats or other humans: creating a space without expectations and with presence changes everything. We can all heal if we make the choice and we have a safe environment to do so. I had both cats in my lap and purring in less than 24 hours because I just gave them my presence without expectations. If you can find the space to provide such an environment, everyone can surprise you.

I can’t heal you, but I can give you the space to heal and the loving reminders that you’re on a path of your choosing.

Always with Love, -S.