If you’re anything like me you run from the dark…
Let me share a not-so-secret-secret with you. The wound actually is the healing place. That’s the place we can look to, or in many of our cases RUN toward, to find the light we’ve been searching for. The love you seek IS NOT OUT THERE. It isn’t outside of you.
You see, if you’re like me, you’ve run from yourself. For a longggggg mother freaking time. You got so good at running you didn’t even know that’s what was happening. The external search has felt natural, but it’s likely felt bad at times. That bad might feel like a pit, a sense that you’ve ignored or stuffed down whole parts of you. And throughout this epic marathon there’s this tug that often pulls at you or things happen that offer you the opportunity to go deeper within yourself but you don’t. Or you scratch the surface a little bit until you feel too uncomfortable and then you put your running shoes on again. Catch my drift? Can you recognize that well-worn running path that I am talking about?
So what are we running from? It’s us. Ourselves. The shadowy, dark bits that have been rejected, hidden, buried….hated. It’s the stuff we’re afraid of. The terrors. The old hurts. The old stories. These are the wounds. And yet they are like beautiful doorways into the heart.
Picture a beautiful house. The lawn and gardens are nicely manicured. The shutters are painted beautifully, the front door says welcome. There is literally has a sign that says ‘Welcome Home Honey’. You step right on through. Once you’re inside it feels okay enough but you get this sense that it hasn’t been visited for a while. There’s large rooms with lots of stuff in them, but it’s overall a little dusty and dark. There’s some sunshine peering in through the windows but the colours inside are muted, tamed down. As you keep walking through you discover a long hallway but each door is either tightly closed with a lock or only slightly ajar. You feel scared as you’re walking through like you’re not sure what is going to jump out at you. You get the urge to run back to the front door and as you turn to go there’s this little voice calling out from the room at the end of the hall. You’ve heard it before. It’s a little louder than usual but there’s something about it this time that you can’t ignore. Slowly you walk over to the doorway, soothing your fears of what could be on the other side deep connected breaths. This is not something you’re completely used to, soothing yourself and moving beyond where you normally stop, turn, and run away. As you get to the door a key slides out from underneath and you know that it’s the being behind the little voice pushing it through the open crack that’s lined with dust.
You pick up the key and into the lock it goes. The voice on the other side says “I am in here.” You turn the key. Then the door knob. You’re trembling. Heart racing. The urge is to run. But you don’t. The door is a bit sticky to push open but it does once you give it a soft push. And when it does, there you find that the little voice belongs to a little person. And they are glowing. Radiant. You blink your eyes a few times as if to snap yourself from your imagination. However, that little person only becomes more clear to you. More real. You recognize them. It’s you. You don’t know what to expect, however, you take a step in and out from your mouth without any planning at all comes the words “How long have you been here and please tell me how I can get you out of here?”
This. This is meeting the wound. This room that you’ve avoided stepping into is the healing place. Inside ourselves there are many unexplored rooms. They are all doorways to an unconditional love that is unfamiliar, unknown to us. Invitations to dive in to the riches of our darkness. The stories untold. Unheard. Unseen. Forgotten. Within that darkness there is always light. One can not exist without the other. If we continue to run away from it we’ll never know the radiant, glowing truth that awaits patiently on the other side of the door.
The well-warn path has brought you here. It will always circle back to the healing place. This is where we can come and sit patiently, compassionately. And listen. The answers will come. We will be shown what we need, when we are ready.
Have you heard the call?
Put down those shoes.
Open that front door.
Follow the voice.
Breathe your way gently down the hallway.
Take your time. It’s not a sprint or a race.
It’s a continuous coming home. One door. One key. One whisper at a time. That’s where the love is.
xo and love,
I’ve included some journaling prompts for you to consider. Give yourself some time to dive into these questions and when the run-away-voice comes up practice meeting it with a compassionate hello and ask it what it needs instead of shutting it down. Sometimes we need to wait outside the door before the key is given to us. And it is there in the still quiet waiting that self-love and self-trust will grow.
So get cozy and ask yourself, with an easy, quiet, compassionate voice:
What would it look like to choose coming home to my heart versus running away?
What am I afraid I’ll find there in the unexplored shadow places, the dark rooms?
What could it look like if I were to choose compassion and patience?