Ancient Wounds

Sometimes my psychiatrist really impresses me. How she can pick up on when something is really triggering for me, even before I realize it, is just so impressive to me. How does she know?

I’m getting better at being able to identify when I’m triggered; if I avoid talking about it, or my throat starts to ache, a sure sign I’m about to cry, then I know it’s something that needs to be addressed. But she can tell even before I start to swallow hard or my voice trails off. It’s amazing.

My last appointment she picked up on one sentence I said and then slowly peeled away the layers to what was really bothering me, and how far back the pain went. She calls these ancient wounds; when they go back to my childhood, and possibly even further considering generational trauma.

At first I didn’t think some of the stuff could go back so far and the pain so deep. I mean I knew it was deep and painful but how ingrained it really is still kind of surprises me. It goes right to my core. Right to my foundations and the fabric of my being. It’s entrenched in there, and seeing it in action still feels really new to me.

I just can’t believe how pervasive it is. It still surprises me. I’ve done a lot of therapy and had many many realizations and epiphanies and come to terms with a lot, and there are so many things I’m much more aware of, and things I have changed and improved on about myself. I’ve really come a long way.

So when, in a ten minute time span, my psychiatrist can get down into the deep, dark crevices of my past and my pain, from something seemingly so simple as one sentence, I am going to take notice. Not just because of how good she is, also because I thought a lot of that deep, dark stuff was healing and starting to get lighter.

Having an ancient wound appear feels like a setback. Like shouldn’t this stuff be resolved by now?

If I told this to my psychiatrist I can already see her face, watching me patiently as she always does, and then gently reminding me that there is a lot of my pain from my past, and some of it is really holding onto that darkness. And yes, I have done a lot of work, and I have come a long way. It’s just, I’m not done yet.

And when I consider how deep and entrenched the wounds are it seems like they could never be healed. Like trying to bridge my way across the Grand Canyon. It feels insurmountable. Especially since healing it means even if it’s only brought up momentarily to the light, it will hurt like a son of a bitch. And who would willingly want to do that? Well, me, I guess, since I did, and I am.

I’m not a big fan of dredging through the darkness of these ancient wounds, for obvious reasons, I’m glad they’re getting the chance to be healed though. Little by little, they are coming into the light. And if it means that I can get to the other side of the darkness and the pain of these wounds will be diminished, maybe even gone, then it’s worth a shot.

And thankfully I have an amazing psychiatrist who will gently remind me of that.