That's probably the reason many of us don't experience healing—we refuse to revisit the jabbing, torturous memories and emotions of the past. I wish we had an easier way to find health and wholeness, but it doesn't work that way.
As much as it sounds like a cliché, we have to embrace the pain before we're free from it.
I saw a film on TV that helped me understand. A boy was bullied by school mates and he determined not to let them destroy him. One of the things he did was to take punches in the gut every day from a professional boxer. As he learned to absorb the pain, the thrusts were stronger and more frequent.
After a few months, the bullies struck again, and he not only deflected their blows by not feeling the pain, he also learned to strike back. They never troubled him again.
That was a powerful lesson for me. And now, in retrospect, I can assert that it's true. I learned to overcome the anguish by accepting the painful thrusts.
This is my pain. I accept it.
Because I accept it, it loses its power.
(This post was adapted from Not Quite Healed, written by Cecil Murphey and Gary Roe.)
One of our readers is considering attending a weekend retreat for male survivors. Have any of you ever participated in such an event? If so, would you email me direct at cec (dot) murp (at) comcast (dot) net and share your experience?
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