“It’s psychosomatic. You’ll need a lobotomy. I’ll get a saw.” –Calvin and Hobbes
I’ve told several people over the last few days that I feel like God is doing open heart surgery on me. Only it seems like open heart surgery would be quicker–just a few hours in a sterile OR instead of another cut occurring every few days in the midst of the messiness of life. The physical wouldn’t be easy. I know this. But these things on the spiritual and emotional level certainly seem at least almost as excruciating.
I’m dealing with things that I have preferred to shove down deep for years. I’m learning new more healthy ways to approach my feelings and my relationships, but the doing of that is hard. Old habits die hard. New habits form slowly.
And I’m discovering new hurts, and old hurts that go down so much deeper than I ever expected.
It all sounds very dramatic, and I suppose on some levels it is. But I also think it’s just my thing right now. It’s just me. It’s this season. It leaves life feeling strange because while things are going very well right now in general, the work that is going on beneath the surface makes me feel like a wreck all the time. It feels much different than the foggy, vague, but undeniable badness of depression. It feels like purposeful rawness and pain and feeling. But it’s hard and exhausting.
Husband and I, together, are learning more about our relationship as we discover things about ourselves that we haven’t been able or willing to face before and this leads into more raw territory. The fruit of this, I pray will be a connectedness that I’ve longed for, and a new depth to our relationship.
As I embark on, what may be, a welcomed season of teariness–welcomed because the tears have been stashed away for far too long–I am noticing that when I feel my feelings, when I let the build up and release of them to run the full course, I am able to be so much more present to my family. Joy seems less effortless. My spirit feels more free. It’s counter-intuitive to me. But it’s welcome. And I’m learning.
So I’m good… But I’m tender. I’m healing, but the healing is only coming out of being broken in new ways, and in re-opening wounds that have long since hardened into scar tissue.