My Healing Dance

Life, like a tapestry, weaves together moments of joy, sorrow, and resilience. Yet, sometimes, we find ourselves ensnared in the knots of our past, unable to move forward. Seeking counseling became a way to unravel my knots and discover the beginnings of release.

I carry with me unhealing scars, wounds that refuse to mend. 

Instead of finding solace, I bottled up these scars, sealing them tightly. When I’m at my lowest, I uncap the bottle, and the pain rushes out as if the wounds were fresh. 

One morning, I woke up with a heavy heart burdened by old scars. Unable to bear it any longer, I decided to seek counseling. I found an online counselor, and during our virtual session, she emphasized the essential nature of healing. “Forgive yourself,” she urged after I confided in her. “You’re too hard on yourself.” I questioned her words, pondering why I am so harsh on myself and how I can find forgiveness. Perhaps laying out my scars and discussing them will be the first step towards healing. Was the first step.

Craving love

The abandonment by both my parents has left me deeply scarred, but it was my mother’s absence that cut the deepest. I yearned for her love more than anything else, and this longing fostered a sense of not being wanted with a painful feeling of being second best. 

I often told myself, “If your own mother doesn’t love you, who will?” Perhaps this is why I accepted unfair treatment, simply craving love. Now, at 22, I find myself unable to define what love truly is. I’ve never uttered the words “I love you,” nor have I heard them yet from anyone else. Tragically, my mother passed away without ever expressing those three simple words.

My inner child

“Do you have someone to talk to?” my counselor asked. 

I replied, “No, I don’t trust anyone.” 

Perhaps it’s because I don’t want to reveal my scars, as it’s become clear to me that my reluctance isn’t about a lack of willingness. Instead, it’s rooted in the fear of what might happen if I trust someone and share my vulnerabilities. What if they, too, abandon me like my mother did? I find myself caught between two versions of myself: the 22-year-old who seeks healing from the sense of abandonment, and the scared little girl who still resides within me. How can I convince that inner girl to forgive herself when she doesn’t even know how? To her, forgiveness feels like admitting fault, as if she did something wrong. But is it my fault that my mother abandoned me? The scar of abandonment will take time to heal. My 22-year-old self is ready to move forward, but the wounded girl within me is not quite there.

The now version of myself blames her for being so, and I carry the weight of self-blame. Should I have forgiven her? 

My inner child insists that my anger was reasonable because she never apologized. But my adult self reminds me of our given philosophy: forgiveness is for us, not them. Now I’m grappling with guilt. 

Perhaps my inner child is right — she was the elder one, and she should have asked for forgiveness. 

Abandonment scars are not the only ones I harbor. I am a home for many more. However, abandonment is my deepest scar. Counseling has pointed to a few issues that I need to deal with personally before moving forward on this healing journey. The little girl in me wants to be loved, and cared for. I tell myself: “Mama is gone now, little girl.” Yes, we grieved, and yes, we loved Mama even though we were angry at her. But now it’s time to love ourselves and stop expecting it from someone else. 

I promise

Tears burn my eyes, and my heart swells with the realization that I should begin to love myself. My counselor was right — I hate myself, and I didn’t realize it until she pointed it out. From today on, I promise to try and love myself more. Maybe loving myself is the second step towards a sense of healing. The pain is too much for me to handle now, but I promise to love myself and care for me. “Little girl, the time is now to take this first step”. 

Jumbled healing

I’m discovering that healing isn’t linear; it’s a lengthy journey. Sometimes, you don’t even know where to start if you never realized you needed healing. 

But I’m embarking on this path now. Healing is like a dance — the music changes, but the steps carry on. Two crucial steps I’ve learned are self-compassion and acceptance. By acknowledging the scar and embracing self-compassion, I’m willing to heal. I’m discovering again and again that healing isn’t linear, but a jumbled journey. 

I’m willing to heal.