A few months ago, I wrote about time healing all wounds. I kind of regurgitated the concept without considerably breaking it down as one does — or as I do.
I thought about what it was about time for me, that “healed” because I couldn’t bear the thought of just waiting out the metaphorical blood of agonizing flashbacks and little promises. Then a few weeks passed and details of my pain started to fade a little — I slept a little better, and began to dismiss some of those markers or triggers that would all of a sudden have me in tears as if I was back there again, experiencing it all over again.
After a few more nights, the intense emotions attached to the memories also began to fade and it hit me — time didn’t heal anything, I was just starting to forget how painful everything was. And as the details faded out of my memories, my body and conscious were finally finding ease. I was “healing” — but I was just actually forgetting.
You know, I don’t recall ever learning about the concept of forgetfulness with any positive connotation, but after that little reflection I must say — to forget is to be happy, or happier I think. Because you enter this “new day new life” phenomenon and start to feel like the sun’s going to shine tomorrow and all of those witty lyrics of encouragement. They’re only real because the pain dissipates in intensity from our memories, not because pain ever goes away.
I don’t know, maybe a few months down the line I won’t have this opinion about time and healing. Maybe there is something about experiencing hardship that rips up the tissue of life stability only to rebuild them into stronger and more guided muscles.
How have you been with pain these days?