If I had it all to do over again.. I’d write a different story. The plot twists would remain the same I guess, I had no control over them anyway, but I think perhaps Id handle it all differently.
Hindsight is 20/20 or so they say and if I only knew then what I know now. Maybe I wouldn’t be sitting where I sit. Life in limbo is not so fun.
In hindsight….being everything to everyone left little space held for me, for us, for them.
Spread so thin I got lost amongst the load…but this is what I know,
its how I walked wounded..
This is my survival story.
Empathy imbalance is costly. I mastered in needing to belong…but found belonging nowhere.
Boundaries have never been my strength…
I guess when life is chaos you control what you can in order to feel some sort of comfort. These shoulders carried more then they should.
These hands held to tightly when they should have loosened their grip.
Maybe if I saw the pain within and recognised those wounds as not unlike my own Id have been less quick to pick up the weight, less willing to be trampled under the need to please.
If only I saw what was truly behind the masks, the walls perhaps I would have connected differently having held insight to meet the need.
I’d have loved differently perhaps … Less surface skating but brave and risk loss to go deep, instead just existing holding pace.
At very least I’d not have been so effortlessly deceived.
But perhaps this is how he walks wounded…
His survival story.
I guess though we can only know what we know..and give out of what we have to give.
Running on empty could never ever be enough.
Had I perception of the hidden depths then perhaps we would never have drifted so far along these roads that led to the edge.
Or perhaps never had begun at all.
Having never known whole ourselves how could we recognise the depth of dysfunction? But you can only know what you know…
This is how we walked wounded.
This is our survival story.
Knowing now what I missed then… Id tell my former self to let it fall…step back and allow the crash…not fear the mess but embrace its power to herald change , eyes wide open. Perhaps the earlier the less complex it could have been.Or less final.
I crave a time machine so that I could go back and do it differently.
Notice when I overlooked. See what went unseen… Less played the fool and more foolhardy. More Wiser then wishful.
I loath the wounds,reddish-purple scars that weave the depth of my 38 years, wishing they were not …quite… so… deep.
This is not the first abandon.
Not the first rejection.
This is not the first heartache.
These are old wounds that have been torn open time and time again.
Each repeat more shattering then before, each blow leaving the scar more unsightly …
This ache such a part of me imbedded in my soul. It has a way of spinning spells that dictate my every moment.
I have wished this ache away a thousand different ways.
Dreamed a different story a thousand different days…
But life is no dream and to live there in denial heals nothing…achieving even less… Just more time lost in fraudulent haze.
Enough life wasted walking wounded.
I crave courage.
To be dauntless
To walk whole.
I want to live life in full colour.
Outrageously authentic no matter the cost.
But what’s required here isn’t earthly essence…it isn’t easily understood… I’ve let go the idea that I could change it all..instead learning to trust in the process.
Forgiving the other the damage done is easier than forgiving myself for my own failings.
But perhaps it had to be this way.
Perhaps it’s fundamental to our walk.
Perhaps it was a lesson I had to learn and learn it well I have.
Maybe the story had to roll like this to get where we are going.
Maybe this is where the wounds get healing.
Maybe this is the start of a new story.
And maybe it’s ok if I’m not ok.Not just yet anyways.
Isn’t it enough to know I’m held in hands of grace?
Hindsight while helpful for understanding can be a brutal teacher.
Freedom seems cannot be brought.
I can’t untangle myself or turn back the clock. I wish to God I could…
But heaven knows better than I of how this journey plays out.
I’ve found that forgiveness is freedoms kiss on aching brow…
Oxygen and medicine all at once.
It’s CPR to a dying heart.
Breathing hope back into these weakened lungs. It’s the strength to put down the anger and lift gaze into tomorrow.
In forgiveness I find my courage..it bleeds refreshment through these veins. Quiets the storms of overwhelm.
Lifts the weight of not being enough.
Hindsight schools me in forgiveness. Leads me back to hope. To faith. To the dreams of age-old yesterdays that seem to light the way into tomorrow.
I am found again in graces embrace.
Still bearing scar tissue..
Still walking wounded, but a little less so now then before.