Healing

A friend of mine wrote a thought-provoking post on Facebook about the concept of healing, and what that has looked like in her life since losing her husband. It really made me stop and ask myself, “Do I believe that complete healing is possible? Do I think I am healed? How does that fit with the idea that grief is something I will always carry with me in this mortal life?”

So do I consider myself healed? In many ways, I would say that I am. It’s true I am no longer held captive by constant trauma responses or flashbacks, don’t feel like I’m stuck in a nightmare of vividly reliving traumatic events. That doesn’t mean that I don’t, or won’t, ever experience triggers. Even with those, though, I’ve seen evidence of that healing for me as I’ve learned to recognize them for what they are, and then have been able to apply the skills I’ve learned to successfully navigate through them. Sure, there are times I am better at this than others. That’s just being human. But I know that my brain has been healed in so many ways.

Of course, it is all a process. There are some areas of my life where I can see that I simply need more time. It’s been hard to accept that writing my book is one of those. As much as I want to get that story out there, it’s becoming increasingly evident that I still need more time, that for some reason the time is not yet quite right. I also know that there is more healing needed, and happening, in my relationships with my children, showing up and consistently demonstrating to them that Mom can be counted on to be there even though for a time she seemingly wasn’t. That work is not more important than they are, and Mom can be emotionally available. We’re still healing from that loss of trust and sense of security that happened in their lives when their dad was sick and I was either physically gone with him at the hospital, or as good as when we were home and his care took nearly all of my time and attention.

We are all so different in how we respond to loss, and that’s certainly been true with my children. I’ve been considering that as I work on preparing my Education Week presentation on “Finding Joy and Peace Amidst Tragedy and Trials.” I have hopefully made it clear on here that I am sharing my journey, and I have never been trying to project my process of healing or how I’ve experienced grief on anyone else. I’m working on allowing space for that with my children as well, being a safe place to process through things, along with providing them the resources and tools they need for their own journeys.

What things might hold me back from healing? I’d say one thing could be jealousy that may try to insidiously sneak its way into my brain. Jealous of those who had big life insurance pay-offs after losing a spouse. Jealous of people whose loved ones were able to pass at home (something that was very important to Kendall but I was not able to give him). Jealous of those who have their mothers, or a co-parent, or even children graduating from high school who are then leaving for college and eagerly embarking on a chapter of life that was such a milestone for me? Oh yes, it could be easy to fall into the trap of jealousy and pining for things I don’t or can’t have.

Or what about that trap of possibly telling myself that things were so much better before, that as long as my person (or people) is gone it won’t ever be as good again? Turning focus backward to what was instead of what is or facing forward toward that which is to come?

There are so many things, really. Self pity. Distancing myself from God. Focusing on what I lack rather than the blessings and miracles I do have. All of those things and more could stand in the way of my healing if I let them.

As was mentioned in a comment on that same Facebook post, it’s important to remember that, “Healing is not the absence of grief.” No, I get to carry the grief with me to some degree for the rest of my life. I accept that. But that grief and loss is not what defines me, even if I strive to allow it to keep refining me.

But I do believe that there are some universal truths when it comes to grief and trauma and loss. The Savior can heal all of it. He understands what it feels like. And if we allow Him to, He will take that burden from us. The circumstances may not change, at least not in this life, but the crushing weight of trying to carry it all, that He can ease. Healing can come in this lifetime, if we allow it to and when we partner with our Savior in that process. I do believe that.

So do I think that complete healing is possible in this life? Absolutely. I’m watching that process happen every day for me and my family. It’s amazing to consider where I am today compared to two years ago, one year ago, even six months ago. I’m continuing to learn more about myself, about my potential and what God wants me to offer to the world. I’m trying to accept limits, while still pushing myself to be more (which doesn’t necessarily mean do more). This process of engaging, that I have chosen as my focus for 2023, is stretching me in ways I didn’t anticipate. I’m liking these changes I’m making and seeing in myself and my life. It’s gonna be a great summer, guys!

(Aren’t those flowers gorgeous? My dad really spoiled me on Mother’s Day.)