Healing and the Inability to Act Out

However, I have a soft spot for documentaries and biopics. And, every now and then I get sucked in by a compelling story. After I watched the five-part series, “Lorena,” I couldn’t sleep.

“Lorena” chronicles the story of Lorena Bobbitt, who cut her husband very specifically after years of trauma and abuse. This occurred at a time in our history where women’s resources for and support amid domestic abuse was virtually nonexistent.

Since then, strides have been taken, legislatively and otherwise, to address the reality that domestic abuse is a grave national (and worldwide) issue.

“Lorena” struck a chord with me. As much as I have focused on my emotional healing, there are times when I see the ways in which I was deeply impacted by my own non-preferred experiences with men.

I can see the areas in my own life where I did not believe in my own value. I can see the areas in my life where I apologized for my existence. I can see areas in my life where I have allowed folks to take advantage of me. I can see the ways in which I punished myself for having had these experiences.

While I sit here stewing and unable to sleep, I do believe that wounded people wound others. Lorena’s ex-husband (who has a pattern of abusing women, by the way) was emotionally, physically and sexually abused as a child.

And I also recognize that assigning blame doesn’t fix the problem. My blaming and overachieving didn’t fix it for me. Even justice feels like an ineffective solution.

And, I want to act. I want to do something to deflect these feelings. But as I fast forward to the aftermath of acting out in any way, I can see that my mission for instant gratification would be immediately regrettable.

The only recourse that I feel makes sense is to be courageous and feel my pain. When I feel my pain and acknowledge my hurt, I feel like I am connected to everyone in the world who has been wounded too. When I feel my pain and acknowledge my hurt, I know that it will shift and I will heal, and I look forward to this.

As poet Khalil Gibran wrote, “The deeper sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.”

What I do well is ride the waves of my grief, knowing that I’ll gain clarity afterwards. What I do better is being kind to people. And what I’d like to do best is to be kinder to myself.

I wish that I could wash away all the pain and make things right for everyone. But all I can do is feel my own pain to reach deeper levels of joy and not bring the pain forward by acting out against someone else. I know that I will do my best to be part of the solution in this small way, and continue to be kind to myself in the process.