Are We Seeing the Beginning of Global Healing?
The First Stumbling Steps of Healing
In the days before the election, I saw an upsurge in unkind, and often irrational behavior. The pain and anger so many people carried came bubbling to the surface in a shit storm of vitriol marked by name calling, castigation, and verbal abuse. In the midst of it all, I made the decision to voice my opinion where I deemed it appropriate, but to refrain from getting into any of the pissing matches where, let’s face it, nobody wins.
Making that choice allowed me to step back and play the observer for a little while. What I saw, instead of discouraging me, gave me hope. It brought to mind the early years when I finally realized I needed to work on myself and release decades of baggage that served only to make me a miserable, angry, unhappy person.
The first stumbling steps I took were clumsy and painful, but I’d already ripped off the bandage, so there was no going back. Years of misery flowed freely; a festering wound finally allowed to drain and begin to heal. To the outside world, I was an ugly, messy, pitiful pile of protoplasm most were happy to avoid, or worse, judge.
As I brought all my dirty laundry out to air before disinfecting it or letting it go, those I’d gathered around my broken, angry self ran off to greener pastures, or perhaps to others who still clung to their brokenness, convinced it was the security blanket that kept them from falling into a million pieces. Learning my own security blanket was nothing more than an illusion detached me from their comfort zone. I was no longer someone who shared, and even reveled in misery, or someone they could make more miserable to assuage their own for a minute or two.
Getting Past Fear
What I’m seeing in the world, in Humanity, is what I saw in myself, and at times, still do. Healing is a messy, often ugly process. The initial steps are filled with unknown terrors as the mind seeks to draw back to a world that was far from perfect, but comfortable in its familiarity. Any setback is an excuse to return to that pit of despair, even when the healing process has progressed to the point where the pit has virtually dissolved. There will always be remnants, and a part of me willing to ignore the pain and return to what it once knew, and even loved.
Humanity is going through growing pains right now, and the deepest, darkest, ugliest side of people is spewing forth in a last-ditch effort to retain it’s position of power. Their behavior mirrors that of the moldy old men desperately trying to retain their positions of power in governments around the world, but most notably in the US. For someone like me, it’s difficult to watch, and even harder to stay out of judgement. I know from experience feeding the beast will only slow the process.
Granted, I have no real influence on the world as a whole, but if I stay out of judgement and argument with one person, I’ve somehow made a difference, though I’ll probably never see it. Like the boy walking on the beach who was returning starfish to the water one at a time, I can’t help or save them all, but I can help one, if only by being one less person feeding their anger and pain.
Attracting Love and Compassion
Reminding myself the angry outbursts are simply a reflection of inner turmoil and unimaginable 
pain helps me remain detached. Thinking back to the person I was 20 years ago when I took the first stumbling steps on my own healing journey helps me engage compassion and push frustration away. I needed no one to change my perspective, nor would I have welcomed the effort. It was a journey I had to chart and tread on my own. The same is true of everyone who is now feeling angry, helpless, and combative. They’re fighting a battle inside themselves, and may or may not have figured out it is, indeed an internal battle.
My own struggles brought forth love and compassion from unexpected, but welcome quarters. There were, and still are people who may have seen their own path out of darkness in my actions and words, and did what they could to light my way. It’s my turn to do the same. In doing so, I further my own journey which truly never ends.
A Lifelong Journey
There will always be pieces of myself that need healing. There will continue to be things which leave wounds, but these days, I’ve learned to let things scar over instead of picking them open over and over until they’re an oozing, festering mess of unexpressed emotions.
In my brief venture as a Theater Arts major, I took a couple of acting classes. I learned the easiest emotion to express is anger. As I look at the world today, and the way people are behaving, I see anger more clearly than anything else. Of course, part of that is exacerbated by media and leadership, but each person’s anger is still their own. When I allow myself to step back and observe, I can see the anger is a desperate struggle to hide the softer, gentler emotions. I see the fear behind the anger in people who were taught that to let anyone see their pain would invite abuse, and worse, disrespect.
I know that look because I wore it myself for the majority of my life, and letting it go was the hardest thing I ever did. Healing the anger and pain, and shutting down the voices bent on discouraging you from learning, growing, and embracing your imperfect self takes an act of will as strong or stronger than giving up an addiction. In fact, holding onto pain and anger is, in it’s own way the most pervasive addiction known to, but seldom acknowledged by mankind.
Hiding Fear Behind Anger
Look at all the people who thrive on complaining. They never seem to be happy about 
anything, but look for the dark cloud in every rainbow. It’s not that they don’t know how to be happy and pain-free. They fear it because they’ve learned to see a moment of happiness as a promise of agony to come. The first step towards learning it doesn’t have to be that way is expressing the anger brought on by those feelings of helplessness.
It took a long time for me to realize the strongest people aren’t the ones who show no cracks in their facade, but instead, are the ones who are brave enough to show their imperfect, vulnerable selves. Making the transition was a terrifying process at first, though it might have been easier had I known the rewards that awaited me. I know now, I wouldn’t have believed anyone who told me about them, any more than all the angry ones would believe me now.
Everyone must go through their own process in their own way. But first, they have to make the choice, unhindered by the judgement, opinions, or influences of anyone else. For many of us right now, our job is to create a safe space for the transformation to begin for someone else.
Opening My Heart to Gratitude
My gratitudes today are:
- I’m grateful for the pain I went through to find my true, authentic, vulnerable, imperfect self.
- I’m grateful for the opportunity to create a safe space for someone else to process and release their pain.
- I’m grateful for hindsight which continues to be 20/20.
- I’m grateful for the lessons people have taught me about compassion, kindness, and supportiveness.
- I’m grateful for abundance; patience., compassion, community, support, love, joy, healing, peace, balance, harmony, health, philanthropy, and prosperity.
Namaste
About the Author
Sheri Conaway is a Holistic Ghostwriter, and an advocate for cats and mental 
health. Sheri believes in the Laws of Attraction, but only if you are a participant rather than just an observer. Her mission is to Make Vulnerable Beautiful and help entrepreneurs touch the souls of their readers and clients so they can increase their impact and their income.
If you’d like to have her write for you, please visit her Hire Me page for more information. You can also find her on Facebook Sheri Levenstein-Conaway Author or in her new group, Putting Your Whole Heart Forward
Whenever I see a butterfly flitting past my window, or following me for a little ways while I’m out walking, I’m filled with a burst of incredible joy. Most of the time, I simply run with it, allowing the joyous creature to lift my spirits, soaring to the treetops along with those colorful wings, needing no reason or purpose for the euphoria.
figure it out, clinging to your old ways like the lifeline they aren’t. Perhaps you become inured to life’s endless series of small traumas at a young age because your family taught you to only allow your strong exterior to show, hiding your fears, feelings, and broken parts behind masks and walls so no one could make the cracks in your foundation any larger.
Like the butterfly, I neither wanted nor needed help while I shed what no longer served me. I did, and still do need support while I learn, grow, and jettison everything I’d stashed away behind the now-dissolved walls. I may have ditched the protections in a few gigantic, and not always self-propelled leaps, but what I’d stashed behind those protections needed to be peeled away carefully, layer by layer. That process would have been impossible without the help of people who could understand, or at least empathize.
willing to take some gigantic leaps of faith, and more, to refuse to let faith and trauma define us. The choices I’ve made, and the transformations I’ve experienced are an option for anyone. Some may have less to shed before emerging, while others like me may have several generations worth. Quantity and depth don’t really matter. The first leap or ten are tough no matter what. It’s all about leaving your comfort zone, and most of us are hard-wired to stay there.
Long ago, I stopped watching or listening to the news, not because I don’t want to know what’s going on with the world, but because, quite frankly, I don’t want or need to hear about the horrific parts; the murders, the hate crimes, the politicians who use their positions to lie, cheat, and steal; the evil I know full well exists in the world. I also reject those who put their own spin on things until the facts become more the evolution of a dystopian society comprised of the most horrific qualities ever exhibited by humans than anything resembling the highs, lows, and everything in between evident in the world at any given time.
professionals who lack the experience, the education, and the true desire to help others with no purpose other than genuine compassion. Sure, even doctors, nurses, and everyone else who chooses the medical profession has their own agenda, but in certain cases, I have to trust they’ve put it aside while they’re doing their job, else why take the Hippocratic Oath in the first place?.
I suspect there are some who’ve unfollowed me as well. Some because they believe I’m uninformed, others because I won’t jump on their bandwagon over every issue on their lengthy agenda. There might even be some who find my outlook too hopeful; too positive. That’s OK with me. If I don’t inspire and uplift you; if my outlook is too airy fairy for your cynical heart, we’re clearly not a good fit anyway.
short, we’re all in this together, and none of us is getting out of here alive, so why not find places where we can, if nothing else, meet in the middle? Hateful behavior only makes your own world darker and more miserable. I know this from my own experiences, though it took me a long time to realize the misery I floated in was self-inflicted. It might, at times have seemed like it was someone else’s doing, but it was more a case of attracting exactly what I was emitting.
The more I integrate forgiveness into my life, the more I recognize it for the multifaceted gem it is. I used to see forgiveness as a one-way energy which I used to un-encumber my own life by releasing old hurts and grievances. I’m starting to realize there are people from my past I’d love to ask for forgiveness.
only exacerbate the situation. I’m not looking for a fight, but I don’t allow myself to be mistreated either. I’ve simply learned to remove myself from the offender’s vicinity rather than instigate an unnecessary and unpleasant altercation. Unfortunately, I tend to stew about it for awhile before I finally forgive them a behavior I know came from their own pain, and truly had nothing to do with me. I just happened to be handy at the time.
Still, forgiveness even of the oldest wounds comes easier with the lessons I’ve learned about why people hurt others. I understand the ones who hurt me most deeply have been the ones who were most deeply hurt themselves.
disappearing while he was away for two weeks with the ROTC. From him, I ran away to someone who gave me what I recognized; anger, abuse, neglect, and bottled up emotions. It was the beginning of my 20-odd year stretch of emotionally broken, abusive men. There was no doubt in my mind I’d found what I sought. It was what I deserved, but worse, it was what I believed was love.
That I don’t typically make a big deal of it when someone treats me unkindly is no longer a defense mechanism. In learning to pick my battles, I’ve recognized there are people who act contrary to their own character in part because they have yet to learn to forgive themselves. I try to offer them compassion while still keeping my distance so I’m not in range of their emotional fallout.
I’m not always positive or upbeat. Life kicks me around my fair share. But I’ve learned to keep a positive attitude even through the wildest storms. Unlike what today seems like another lifetime ago, I don’t mask my feelings. I feel them, acknowledge them, love them, then try to let the bad stuff go. The positive affirmations I share here and on social media aren’t meant to cover anything up, but to remind myself where I might currently be is only temporary. As long as I focus on the lesson rather than wallowing in the pain, I know I’ll navigate the current hazards and reach the other side only slightly the worse for wear.
and protected. Some even raised it to deity status, so in my defense, I didn’t know better. But as I got older and interacted with people from other families; other backgrounds, I had plenty of opportunity to learn. It was my choice to remain in the dark hole I mistook for the warmth and comfort of the family womb. In truth, it was only a comfort as long as I followed their rules and lived my life within those confines.
These days, I acknowledge pieces of my past as they come up for review. I know there are feelings I still need to feel before they can be released and forgiven. There’s only one way through that storm, and it’s straight through. Fortunately, it does get easier, and most of the feelings I’m called upon to feel are less painful; less intense than the ones when I first tore down the walls.
constant. I am a writer. It’s what I was meant to be, and what I will ultimately excel at. No matter how many times I’m knocked down, discouraged, or criticized, it remains my singular focus. Even when I go months writing nothing but blog posts and morning pages, I’m still a writer. I’m still writing.
As we leave not only another year, but another decade behind us, I see people posting how grateful they are to put 2019 behind them. A year ago, many of us were grateful to put the horrors and tragedies of 2018 behind us. Is this how we look at our years, marching one behind the other in perfect rhythm? 365 (and sometimes 366) days we trudge through thinking: “If I can just get through this year, next year will be better”? If so, it’s a truly sad state of affairs.
hope; a small kernel of joy mixed in with all the crap I may have had to shovel. I’ve learned I’ll always find what I’m looking for.
That’s not to say all the emotions I unconsciously packed away and ignored for several years were going to stay buried, but by the time they came bursting forth in all their technicolor glory, I was in a better place to deal with them, and to finally feel those feelings. I won’t lie to you and say it was a pleasurable experience, but it was both necessary and cathartic. Once the worst of it was over, I felt like a new woman, even knowing I’d spend the rest of my life revisiting feelings, though from a stronger stance from then on.
in a huge way could easily have crawled into that dark hole I mentioned, coming out only to complain about how awful their life is, and how glad they are to see another miserable year pass into the history books. The fact is, they didn’t. They used their own grief to help make the world better for someone else; someone they’ll probably never meet or even know exists. They’ve also been honest enough to admit sometimes they’re not OK, and need to withdraw and be not OK for a little while before getting up and carrying on.
The way I see it, you can take the body slams life gives you as an excuse to crawl into your turtle shell and stay there. If so, you’ll always bemoan the small things each new year brings and miss out on all the joyful ones. Or you can be a Phoenix rising from each pile of ashes, knowing what was burnt down had run it’s course, or needed to give you a reason to do something on a grander level.
I have my share of demons. They’ve grown out of the lessons I’ve learned and the mistakes I made learning them, my insecurities, and the times I’ve been hurt or slapped down. My mind has magnified some of them so they take on a life of their own when I’m at my weakest. Others are presented to me in technicolor glory when I think I least need to see them. But clearly I’m wrong as I always survive the visit; a little stronger and wiser for the experience.
eyes, or maybe a cauldron of putrid slime. Instead, they look like normal people; someone you could trust to treat you right and never pull the rug out from under your feet just when you’ve begun to take for granted you’re on stable ground.
It took me awhile, but I’ve finally learned there will always be people who decide to dislike me; some at first glance, and others after we hit some kind of snag in the fabric of our friendship. I know I’m an acquired taste, and no longer take it personally. Most people, including me sometimes make negative comments about others. I’m not proud of it, nor do I deny my own culpability. It’s neither right nor kind, and is one of those qualities I’m still working on.
health. Sheri believes in the Laws of Attraction, but only if you are a participant rather than just an observer. Her mission is to Make Vulnerable Beautiful and help entrepreneurs touch the souls of their readers and clients so they can increase their impact and their income. If you’d like to have her write for you, please visit her 
Life gets in the way.
box—until it burst open spilling all the old hurts; all the ugliness I’d kept inside out into the world in an unholy mess. Feelings I’d denied; that I’d never allowed myself to feel and release boiled to the surface, fighting each other for attention. Overwhelmed, I allowed them to bury me in a mire of hopelessness and misery.
Opening my own heart has been a double-edged sword. It’s humanized me and helped me connect with others. But it also opens me up to other peoples’ pain. I see the near-panic in their eyes as they maintain a crazy pace in hopes they won’t have to feel what leveled them before. I see and feel the futility of their efforts, but for the most part, I keep it to myself. I know from my own experience telling them what they’re doing to themselves isn’t going to change things. More likely, it will piss them off, or make them withdraw from someone like me who sees too much.
helped make a chink in their armor, and maybe I haven’t. It isn’t for me to say. Like me, they have to choose to make the effort and yes, feel the pain before it can be released. It isn’t a choice I take lightly as making it myself forced me to relive some of the darkest moments of my life. I know some of the people I’ve attracted have moments so dark they believe they haven’t the strength or support to relive them. I only wish I could convince them it will be better on the other side.
It’s hard to believe I created this blog more than 9 years ago at my daughter’s urging. To be honest, I don’t even remember the original reason I created it, except as an exercise to broaden the scope of a healing journey that began 16 years later than it should have, yet at exactly the right time.
that a woman “over 50” gave her crap for sharing her journey via her blog. My first reaction was to want to smack that woman and tell her to shut her pie hole. As I don’t know who she is, nor does it really matter, I’m going to address the message and not the poster, as we used to say.
Writing for me has always been a way to hash out things I didn’t feel comfortable talking about. Until 9 years ago, most of what I wrote never saw the light of day. When I started allowing small things to slip and learned others could relate, I gained courage, opening up more and more as time went on. When people who’d clearly been holding onto a lot of crap for years began sharing pieces with me, I knew I was opening up a side of myself that needed to be cracked open for more than my own sake.
may have caused them to retreat into themselves, bearing a shame that’s not deserved. I know from my own experience, every time someone comments or sends me a message saying they get what I’m talking about, and that they’re glad I brought the subject up, I’m reminded of the value of my words, but more, I heal a little more myself.
The young woman who prompted this post is going through a divorce she didn’t see coming. She’s not sharing gory details, nor is she bashing her soon-to-be ex. Instead, she’s showing an inordinate amount of class while still sharing the pain, the disillusionment, and the topsy-turvy mess she feels like her life is right now. Unlike me and many from my generation, she’s opening up from the start, asking for help from her friends, sharing her journey, and doing her best to ease her kids into what will be their new version of normal.
I ran into a fellow member of the dance community at our local county fair one night. We were reminiscing about the “good old days”. He told me the thing he misses most is the feeling of family that existed in the early 2000’s when there were parties and gatherings outside of just the dance venue. I listened but didn’t have much to contribute because I wasn’t part of the “family” he remembered during that period of time.
to change. I let people see that much of my unconscious defensiveness was my way of hiding the pain I’d been taught never to let anyone see. The false set of beliefs I’d been given from birth said no one wanted to know I struggled with anything unless they were going to use it to take advantage of me. In short, my early education was as riddled with holes as Swiss cheese.
Not making real, deep connections was another part of my reality I believed was normal. My parents certainly had people I’d call close friends, but in hindsight, I think that closeness was simply a product of similar outlooks, and a common belief in self-medicating to escape a harsh reality. I don’t think they shared their vulnerability with each other, and frankly, they’d have been horrified at the suggestion. They wouldn’t have been comfortable on the giving or receiving end of something so deeply personal and honest. In their minds any raw emotions they shared while under the influence could be explained away by the alcohol.
Part of my purpose in writing posts like this is to hopefully reach some of those who believe as I once did that hiding away is the only solution. That avoiding pain at all costs is their only choice. I learned the hard way that you can’t hide from pain. You might avoid a lot of what could be inflicted by others, but you wall yourself away with your own demons. Often, that’s far worse than anything the outside world might inflict.
anywhere close to finishing the job. It was, however, the best gift I ever gave myself. Coming out from behind those walls and becoming a true part of my community has brought me immeasurable joy. Just having people like a security guard at the fair remember me for my friendliness, even 2 years and hundreds of thousands of people later makes the pain of demolishing those walls worth it.
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Embracing Vulnerability Courageously 
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