There will come a time in all of our lives when someone hurts us.

Perhaps more than once.

Perhaps more deeply than we ever thought possible.

We will experience disappointment.

Betrayal.

Disrespect.

Broken trust.

Words that cannot be taken back.

Silences that speak louder than words ever could.

And if we live long enough, we will discover that some wounds do not come from strangers.

They come from people we loved.

People we trusted.

People we never imagined would become part of our pain.

When that happens, we are often told what to do.

Be strong.

Move on.

Forgive.

Let it go.

Take the high road.

And while there may be wisdom in those words, I sometimes wonder if we rush too quickly past something important.

The hurt.

Because before healing comes honesty.

Before forgiveness comes acknowledgment.

Before letting go comes admitting that something was lost.

I do not believe healing requires us to pretend we are unaffected.

Sometimes healing begins when we finally allow ourselves to say:

“That hurt.”

“What happened was not okay.”

“I am angry.”

“I am disappointed.”

“I deserved better than that.”

There is nothing weak about those words.

There is nothing unspiritual about them.

There is nothing shameful about feeling the weight of a wound.

Pain that is never acknowledged rarely disappears.

It simply finds another place to live.

Sometimes in our hearts.

Sometimes in our relationships.

Sometimes in the stories we tell ourselves about our worth.

Perhaps that is why we must allow ourselves to feel what we feel.

To grieve.

To cry.

To be angry.

To speak the truth about what happened.

Even when that truth is uncomfortable.

Even when others would rather we remain silent.

But somewhere along the journey, another choice awaits us.

Not whether we were hurt.

Not whether the wound was real.

But whether we will allow the wound to become our identity.

Because pain has a way of introducing itself as a visitor and then quietly trying to become a resident.

It begins shaping how we see ourselves.

How we see others.

How we see the future.

And if we are not careful, we can become so consumed by what happened to us that we forget who we were before it happened.

I think that is the danger.

Not the pain itself.

But losing ourselves inside it.

Healing is not becoming someone new.

At least not entirely.

Sometimes healing is remembering who we were before the hurt convinced us otherwise.

The laughter.

The hope.

The kindness.

The courage.

The faith.

The parts of ourselves that pain tried to bury but never truly destroyed.

Yes, we may return different.

Wiser.

More discerning.

More aware of our own strength.

But I do not believe the goal is to become hardened.

I think the goal is to become whole.

To allow the experience to teach us without allowing it to define us.

To carry the lesson without carrying the chains.

To forgive when we are ready.

To move forward when we are able.

And through it all, to remember this:

After everything you have been through, do not lose yourself.

You are still there.

Perhaps a little bruised.

Perhaps a little weary.

But still there.

And maybe healing is not the process of becoming someone else.

Maybe it is the journey of finding your way back to yourself.

Only wiser.

Only stronger.

Only more deeply rooted than before.

A lot of people think healing is about becoming a different person.

But perhaps healing is often about returning to who we were before pain convinced us that we were broken.

Until next time,