I Thought I Was Over It

Have you ever thought you were over something from your past, but the smallest incident sent you right back there?

I thought I was over it. I thought I was healed from something in my past.

Last week, during days 231-237 of my year of quitting the Holy Bible, I recognized I was not over it.

It Appears

I felt terrific.

I was going about my own merry and introverted way in life, when a seemingly little and small incident with someone drew my attention.

Not only did this incident get my attention, I felt a rush of heated emotions well up from a place I thought was long gone.

As I spoke with the person about the issue, I felt bewildered by how it affected me to such an extent to generate this fire bubbling up in my soul.

I knew it was not about this little incident.  It was about something from my past. I knew all had not been forgiven as I had thought, for I felt angered.

It was now covered with scar tissue that felt sensitive to touch.

Consequently, the slightest touch would generate excruciating pain.

After talking with the person about the incident and reaching a mutual understanding, I knew in my heart that my anger was calling me to look deeper within.

The incident was not about the person’s actions. The incident was about me.

The Guide

I took time to be alone. I sat in one of my favorite places to pray.

I did not pray.

And no writings of men from centuries past could do this work.

The Word was discovered as I reconnected with the anger I had felt earlier.

As I closed my eyes, I allowed the anger to fully emerge.

Instead of judging, her, I saw tenderness in her eyes.

My heart moved with  empathy  for her.

As my heart opened up to anger, she took my hand and guided me to a wounded woman.

Anger was doing her job to protect and defend this sensitive being. She enlarged herself to scare off anyone attempting to intimidate her. She invoked fury to keep others at a distance.

She would not dare risk exposing the one she loved in a vulnerable condition.

Anger loved the wounded woman.

Although anger gave her best, she could not heal her beloved.

As I looked upon the wounded woman, I felt her grief, anguish, and tears.

A sadness that left her loss for words emanated throughout her body.

As I touched her hand, I became her.

And I did something I had not permitted myself to do.

I cried.

I felt the waves of hurt that had been tucked away guarded by anger.

And I gave myself the love I deserved.

I gifted myself the grace I needed.

Doing Your Best

Anger reminded me of the care I had denied myself.

I am thankful that anger alerted me about it,  for it took part of me captive.

I was unaware of this place, hidden within my inner universe.

I thought I was over it. I believed that I possessed different indicators proving I had moved past it.

I had skipped a step.

In my haste to forgive and move forward, I had minimized the wounds created by it.

The incident was a symptom to a deeper place where there was still a part I had ignored.

Many of us are like anger, in that we are doing the best we can wherever we are.

Condemning ourselves for these opportunities of healing only creates more wounds.

However, self-compassion frees us to evolve and be.

When we honor our anger and allow her to guide us to the place in most need of love, we can heal.

We use our Divine power to heal.