When We Hold On To The Hurt

New beginnings have been on my mind lately as I’ve watched the maple and cherry trees around town bloom into color. Spring has been a fickle visitor this year, delighting us with its presence only to disappear unceremoniously. Or perhaps it’s that winter has been reluctant to let go and allow a new season to settle in.

This feeling of being stuck in the middle has brought to mind conversations I’ve had of late on the subject of letting go. Like the beginning of a new year, the arrival of spring fills us with hope and anticipation. Watching the colors and blooms emerge all around leaves us with the feeling that something new is in the air.

But for many of us, starting something new means letting go of what’s behind us. And, so often, this is where we lose our way. How do we let go and move forward when the past is still so much a part of us? When letting go feels like losing a part of who we are?

Letting go and moving on is one of the hardest things we may ever have to do. But I have to wonder sometimes, why do we hold on when all that’s left of the past is pain and sorrow, and even, sometimes, anger and regret?

Often, letting go means letting go of hope, the hope that change is still possible, that something can and will still be what we wish with all of our heart for it to be. It can also mean letting go of something we know is gone forever, something that, perhaps, was a part of our heart and soul for so long. How do we move forward when we don’t know who we are without what we’ve lost?

Often, we find there is comfort in our sadness. It feels familiar, safe even, because it’s part of something we know. And that feeling of familiarity is something we can wrap around ourselves and sink into.

But I think, sometimes, we let the pain of our past overstay its welcome. We hold on because it’s all we have left of what we once had, and we fear the emptiness we know we’ll feel when we finally let go. It is easier, I think, to feel something than to feel nothing at all. So, we allow the pain to fill up that empty space and settle in.

But how long do we let it remain?

Something I have often said is this. Our sorrow is something we must work through, and it takes time and patience and grace. But it is not a place for us to stay.

At some point, we must be willing to look forward. There comes a time when even the long, harsh wiles of winter have had their day and must make way for a new season to emerge.

I am not fond of the saying that time heals all wounds. I think it’s more accurate to say we learn to navigate around them. Some wounds never lose their sting. There are memories from my past that are as sharp as they were years ago. Time has done little to smooth the edges. I’ve simply chosen to tuck those feelings and memories away and keep them far from my present and my future.

Maybe that is where it begins. Maybe it’s not simply the passage of time that soothes our souls. Maybe healing is a choice we make, and, maybe, it begins with choosing to move beyond the pain of our past.

It can be impossible to contemplate moving on and being happy when we’re hurting. The “fake it till you make it” mentality is lost on me. I believe the most harmful thing we can do is not allow ourselves to feel what we feel.

But I also believe that, even on our darkest days, we can choose to let in some light. And even a broken heart can hold some joy.

We cannot go from despair to feeling content in a mere moment, but we can gaze at the moon and marvel at the magnificence of it. We cannot move from hopeless to peace of mind in a single breath, but we can take in the brilliance of a clear sky full of stars and feel the wonder.

We cannot heal our hearts by ignoring our pain, but we can appreciate the warmth of the sun on our skin and the smell of the rain. We can find comfort in a moment of peace and feel clarity in a breath of fresh air.

It takes courage, when we are hurting, to move beyond the past. But we can choose to give up our grasp on the pain and tuck away the sharp edges. We can find a way to let anticipation and hope inspire us. And we can slowly open our hearts and begin to make room for love and joy to find us.

We often hear it said that even the trees lose their leaves in the fall and wait throughout the long winter for spring to arrive so they can bloom again. Over the past weeks, I’ve watched cherry trees once abundant with blooms leave drifts of pink petals along the ground. I’m always taken with the way the blossoms delicately fall away and make room for the lively green leaves to emerge.

I wonder if that’s what we’re supposed to do. Maybe, with each new season in our life, we are supposed to let go and leave behind the parts of ourselves that belong in the past. Maybe we are supposed to allow ourselves to change and grow into something new.

Sitting on my back porch, I can feel the mild breeze that is dancing through the trees along with the birds as they flit from one to the other. The morning air, cold and silent just a short time ago, is swelling with a chain of melodies. I’ve been looking forward to this new season, to a new day of promise and renewal. The sun is quickly warming the dew, bringing with it the sweet fragrance of early spring flowers. It fills me with hope for all that is to come. It would appear that spring is finally here. And I think, this time, it is here to stay.

M.C. Greene

P.S. From Heartache To Resilience