I was reading about the idea of healing by telling our stories, and it made so much sense to me. I was remembering when a friend of mine had lost her husband and another friend lost her son. I remember each time they shared their story with me, there was a revelation for them. Something new revealed itself in the telling of their story. Some purpose. Some lesson. And in their grief, telling their story made them stronger. Helped them heal. Made the edges just a little less sharp.
In grief, we tell our stories over and over again. I remember whn my own dad died when I was just a little girl. Our family would get together and talk about him, tell stories about him, laugh and cry at the stories we told, over and over again. It was our way of moving through our grief, of healing that painful wound.
I am reminded of a friend telling me about her in-laws losing a son, and that they did not discuss their loss. They felt the best way to deal with their loss was to bury it deep within. This burying a loss does not allow them to heal. It’s like breaking an arm and not letting it get fixed. Over time, the arm can be used again, but it will never be the same strength or have the same abilities that it had when fully functional. By not telling their story, this family was not fully functional. And the repercussions were strong, as they lost another loved one who so desperately needed to grieve, he felt living in this world would not give him the healing he needed.
When we have pain, it is important to tell our story, over and over again. That is part of our healing. That is how we learn from our pain. That is how we process or own growth in this world.
Have you told your story to anyone lately?