And why does this question keep coming up? Why me? Why this particular issue? Why did it affect my life so intently? Why? Why? UGH!
Why can't I just get over it and get on with my life? Why after 60 years can it still bring me to tears?
I was reading the story of Job in the Bible the other day. He asked why a lot, 60 times if my count is correct. God never once addressed the question; not with him and not with me. And perhaps the why is not really that important in the whole scheme of things. I still have to go to work, be a good man, take care of my wife and family, and do the right thing whatever that calls for.
And maybe that in itself is part of my healing. I will never get my childhood innocence back. But worrying and fussing over that loss has cost me a lot of the joy I could have experienced in the present many times over. I can't erase the pain I feel at times. But as an adult, I can feel it, accept it, and realize it's a part of me, the whole me. I compartmentalized so much of my life and it nearly drove me crazy. But acknowledging and accepting the wounds of my past instead of fighting them I'm finding more peace than I thought possible.
When the inevitable question pops up, I suspect I need to just acknowledge the pain, let it wash over me for the moment and then get on with the present task whatever that may be. Life is too short to be held hostage by my past. Painful, yes, indeed but not the end of all things, not yet.
Yes, it happened, it hurt, it was wrong, I didn't deserve that. I survived and now maybe I can thrive.
Just my thoughts