From Heartache To Resilience

Over the past few weeks, I’ve spent a great deal of time reading and responding to emails. I am tremendously thankful for the many people I’ve connected with since I began writing this blog. I want to thank everyone who has written and shared their stories and wisdom with me.

In November, I wrote a post about how the hardest trials in our lives often lead us to our greatest victories. Shortly after publishing that post, I received an email from Suzanne P. of Woodbury, Minnesota. Suzanne asked me a question that weighed on my heart and stayed with me throughout the holidays. I’m grateful to Suzanne for the painfully honest and heartfelt conversations we’ve had over these last few weeks.

In my post from November, I wrote that it was during the seasons in my life when I felt at my lowest that I gained strength, wisdom, resilience, and clarity.

In an email she wrote to me during December, Suzanne asked me, “How did you turn heartache into resilience?” She went on to say that, on most days, she feels so broken that she can barely breathe.

That feeling of brokenness, of not being able to breathe, is one that I know. The memory of it still sucks the life out of me. But I don’t allow my mind to linger there because those days are long past, and the place I am in now is so far from where I once was. The years in between have brought me peace and made me stronger and wiser. But that journey, in itself, was long and painful, and I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone. And while I would not choose to do it again, it brought me to a place and to people I would never trade.

So, how did I get from there to here? How does one turn heartache into resilience?

There is no easy answer. Even in a world where we try each day to believe in the best, to focus on all that is good and worthwhile, and to look for the good in others, hearts and people will still be broken, and lives will be irrevocably changed, sometimes in a single moment, by the words and wiles of others.

In those moments, when we feel as if our world has fallen apart, the last thing we want is to be told that all will be okay, that we will get through it, and there is light at the end of the tunnel. Because there is nothing okay about being unable to breathe or the inability to think past the immediate moment to some brighter future we can’t possibly fathom.

They say time heals all wounds, but I’m not so sure that’s true. I think some wounds never heal completely, and it would be more accurate to say we learn to navigate around them. Some of us barrel through or manage to ignore the pain for a time. But the problem with not allowing ourselves to feel what we feel is that those feelings often come back at some point and poison our lives, and those around us, at a later date. A very wise and dear friend once said to me, “Repressed feelings do the most damage.”

Maybe, in our darkest moments, the best thing we can do is to be kind to ourselves, and sometimes that means allowing ourselves to not be okay. We need to give ourselves time to grieve and to process our pain without feeling guilty about how we do it or how long it takes. Even if that means, for a time, we simply concentrate on breathing, and on getting through each day moment by moment.

For me, when I’m feeling low, I surround myself with the people I love, and I look for joy in the little things: the sight of the moon, the words of Thich Nhat Hanh, a hug from my son. I think, sometimes, the most courageous thing we can do is to step out of our pain and, if even for the briefest moment, find something to be thankful for.

And while I believe we can, and should, find others to lean on, no one can tell us how to fix ourselves when we’re broken. Only we can pull ourselves out of our despair. I would never presume to tell someone how long they should grieve a heartache. But I do believe that, at some point, we need to come to the realization that we cannot stay stuck in our grief. Our sorrow is something we need to work through, and it takes time and patience and grace. But it is not a place for us to stay.

There are so many things in this life that are out of our control. But what we can do, when we are ready, is choose how we move forward out of our pain; and moving forward means making a choice. To say there is a silver lining in every situation would be asinine and insensitive. But it is up to us to choose the way in which we let the circumstances of our lives change us and our perspective.

In the middle of chaos, it can be impossible to believe anything good could follow from so much pain. But peace and happiness are choices we make. At any moment, we can change our story, and it is up to us whether we allow what is behind us to alter what is in front of us. We can choose to move forward out of our sorrow with bitterness, anger, and shame. Or we can, instead, choose to move forward with forgiveness, hope, and healing. We can choose to forego peace and well-being and stay stuck in a place of pain and complacency, or we can choose to believe our years are meant for something more and endeavor to squeeze every ounce of light and life and joy that we possibly can out of the one life that we have.

Each and every situation in our life changes us in some way. And whether we believe in a higher power, God, the Universe, divine intervention, magic and miracles, or simply ourselves, there is something good to be found on the other side of each one.

I think in so many cases, without us even realizing it, life happens, and one day we find we are no longer who or where we once were. I do believe the hardest trials in our lives often lead us to our greatest joys, and it is during those times when we gain strength and clarity and wisdom. And while they are often the most painful lessons we will learn, they are the lessons that stay with us for a lifetime.

But the journey to get there is not an easy one. So I will not tell anyone that it’s all going to be okay, or that there is so much to live for, and one day you’ll look back on your darkest days and realize they were all for the best.

But I will say that if you managed to pull yourself up today and put one foot in front of the other when all you wanted to do was fall apart, then I commend you. If you managed to be there for someone, your children, your spouse, a friend, or even a stranger; if you accomplished just one small thing at home or at work, or took one small step forward, then I’m proud of you, and you should be proud, too. You’re heading in the right direction. Please be kind to yourself.

M.C. Greene

The quote above is one I repeat to myself when I need reminding or perspective. It is not known who wrote it. Those words were scratched into a concrete wall in Auschwitz, the German concentration camp where over a million people lost their lives between 1940 and 1945. In 1989, Polish photojournalist, Joseph Czarnecki, published a book called Last Traces: The Lost Art Of Auschwitz in which he documented the pictures, doodles, poems, and inscriptions found on the walls inside the barracks of the camp where men, women, and children were imprisoned and put to death. It is a deeply moving book, one that is both humbling and heartbreaking.

Thank you, Suzanne P., for sharing with me. I am forever grateful for your honesty and your grace.

Last Traces: The Lost Art of Auschwitz, was written by Joseph Czarnecki, Copyright © 1989; Macmillan Publishing Co.

P.S. Do We Accept The Love We Think We Deserve?