“Wisdom is nothing more than healed pain.” –Robert Gary Lee
In a college acting class, my teacher had my peers surround me in a circle so that I could toss my body in various directions, while improvising a scene based on my past. She did this because I had no access to my feelings about certain events.
I could recount the most painful events in my life without a shred of actual emotion—which meant that I was often play-acting when I got into another character’s head, because in many ways, I was shut down.
When I’d thrust myself at another student, she’d push me across the circle to another one who would push me to someone else, and this would stir something in me. I’d start to feel angry, and agitated, and alive—things I didn’t feel very often back then.
I’d slowly start reliving the moments that hardened me, and actually connecting with the feelings they inspired. That circle of people felt both harsh and safe, because I was both terrified and desperate to go back—to understand what hurt me so that I could heal.
Not everyone has trauma in their past, but we’ve all been hurt before–and it can be tempting to move on without every really addressing it. It’s not always comfortable to look backwards, and many times we convince ourselves it’s smart not to do it since life happens in the now. But we can only thrive in this moment if we understand and work through the emotions we avoided to survive in the past.
We can only address what keeps us stuck if we understand why it feels safe that way—what we gain by ignoring what happened—and then recognize that we gain far more by working through it, learning from it, and then making smart choices based on what we learned.
We have an amazing ability to lie to ourselves—to say that we’ve moved on when we haven’t, and to say that we’re fine when we’re not. We may even convince ourselves these things are true.
But if we want to truly let go and feel free, we need to create that circle for ourselves—to address whatever hurt us before and why and how it did—so that we don’t just forget about the past; we shape the future with the wisdom we’ve gained from having lived it.
Photo by zeze57
About Lori Deschene
Lori Deschene is the founder of Tiny Buddha. She started the site after struggling with depression, bulimia, c-PTSD, and toxic shame so she could recycle her former pain into something useful and inspire others to do the same. You can find her books, including Tiny Buddha’s Gratitude Journal and Tiny Buddha’s Worry Journal, here and learn more about her eCourse, Recreate Your Life Story, if you’re ready to transform your life and become the person you want to be.
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Though I run this site, it is not mine. It's ours. It's not about me. It's about us. Your stories and your wisdom are just as meaningful as mine. 
My past was mostly good. I don’t look at it because it ruins my present which is empty and hollow in comparison.
What do you need to feel more alive today? What was so good in the past? Take action to make your life rich and deeply fulfilling. You can do it!! 🙂
I love this!! I use it with my clients all the time. Thanks for the reminder to integrate our past to creat more meaning for today!!
A quote I have seen attributed to various people which I love: “Life isn’t what happens to you, it’s what you do with what happens to you.”
Is it possible for someone to not remember about the past? I ask someone regarding his past but he said he couldnt remember his past. Do u think Its because he had something terrible happened and he wants to forget about it and unconciously he’s burying his memory too deep that he cant even dig it himself or when certain things happen in the past he didnt feel too emotional thus he forgets?
Great post Lori. I believe blogging has helped me heal the pain of the past in an enormous way. I thought I had worked through it years ago, but somehow writing about it has truly moved me through it. Whatever it takes we can’t continue to ignore it or we will truly suffer.
Thanks
b
Years ago, in my mid twenties, I got a call from my mother. Out of the blue she asked me if I felt neglected as a child. I told her, no, I did not. And I didn’t. At least I thought I didn’t. My sister, six years behind me, needed a lot of parental attention and Mom and Dad both worked long days as well, so I grew up pretty much on my own from as far back as I can remember. But I didn’t feel particularly neglected. Or so I thought.
I say, “thought” because about a month later I woke up in a blinding rage coming out of a dream where I blasted my parents, especially Dad, for abandoning me. It was an emotion so intense I never forgot it. And then I realized how deeply I had suppressed the pain of feeling unloved. I then realized I had suppressed a deep resentment as well, and that I needed to clear my animosity.
I tired to bring it up a few years later but bumped against resistance. So I let the confrontation go. Not the hurt.
Years later I tried again to explain my feelings and this time I got a lecture from my dad stating that my version of my childhood was a delusion and that I needed therapy. He accepted no responsibility for the way I felt, or his actions as a father.
Mom however, broke down in tears and confessed things that happened to me before my memories held that history. I forgave her for things I couldn’t remember and we have since reconnected deeper than ever before. But Dad pulled away and I had to let him go.
Years later he began his long decent into senility. There was nothing for me to do but drop the blame and deal with the hurt, which eventually I did. It took years. My sister however, has yet to resolve her resentments. I didn’t know she had them too.
So you’re right, Lori. Even as adults, we have to dig and deal with those emotions. They affect everything.
I come from an abusive family, and it’s hard to stop myself from dwelling on how bad my life was and how I’ll never really recover. When I start thinking like that, it’s my dog who helps me move forward. We got her from the local shelter, and at some point in her life she was abused and has a broken leg that never healed right. But she doesn’t let her past get in the way of living. She’s friendly and loving to everyone she meets. I’m working on being as open to happiness as she is.
<3<3<3 Love you, girl <3<3<3
That’s a pretty amazing share there Irving. Thanks for that. I had similar resentments towards my father which I didn’t discover until a few years into a journey of recovery and self-discovery. My father valued himself based on his ability to provide, and thus worked constantly in construction until he retired at age 64 and passed away from lung cancer suddenly (literally, 10 days after his diagnosis) less than a year later. I’m fortunate that I had a chance to learn his lover language and… not forgive so much but change my perspective and learn how he feels, expresses, and loves.
I’m so glad that you got a new connection with your mother. That’s great, my mother and I are more similar and are very close also. Something I’d hoped to have with my father someday. And I’m glad you were able to let your father go. Thanks for sharing that.
Maybe intentional affirmation and gratitude for the past might enrich the present? Just a thought.
I am a widow. The best days of my life (as well as the worst days of my life) were spent with my late husband.
I keep a “gratitude journal” now. I write a thing or two each night for which I am grateful. Keeps me in touch with “the Giver.”
Seems to make today brighter.
Sometimes I write that I am grateful for those best, loving, good times.
I’ trust that denial serves the important purpose of protecting us from what we weren’t ready or capable to deal with. In recovery we say “more will be revealed” and that “God never gives you more than you can handle” (although at times it feels like he does). I believe that when i am ready to become aware of a wound the world will offer opportunities to have it surface. Once revealed, I can feel it, and heal it. Feelings are my teachers and as you said, we learn from pain.
your comment reminded me or a funny healing moment of my own. i was angry at my father for many years for not being around enough or loving me or protecting me as i wanted him to when I was young. after being a parent myself for a while I realized that he was in fact a good man and father. In the moment of insight and release I impulsively called him to share the good news and let him off the hook.
He answered the phone and i confessed to him with tears of remorse in my heart.
“Dad” i said, “I have been angry at you for so so long and I just want to tell you how sorry I am about that.”
My dad was in his eighties and not hearing as well as he once did. He replied, Angry, angry? No Harvey, I’m not angry at you.”
My heartfelt amends morphed into pretty robust laughter as the irony clobbered my awareness. I cried tears of funny. My anger was always mine and for the most part, since it went largely unexpressed, he never even noticed it. Figures eh?
I think this is your best post yet – so deep and insightful. This struck the nerves that are raw for me right now. Thank you. Namaste.
Thanks for commenting about my story. It reminds me that I’m not alone with my feeling of abandonment. But I don’t feel that way anymore. Since Dad sunk so deeply into senility, I’VE become the father. I now tell him what he wants to hear, I do things for him that makes him feel loved and he’s happy. It’s such an easy gesture.
As a father, he tried the best he could, based on his needy personality and insecurities. In a few years he’ll be gone. I think I’ll be sad about that.
Irv
That’s power and good reminder, as you said, “It’s such an easy gesture.”
Same with my dad now. He never quite understands what I’m telling him. And when that happens, I ask myself, will I end up the same way? Senility runs in my family.
Irv
If this comment refers to my post where I said my mom admitted to things beyond my memory, I meant that she gave me over to my grandmother when I was eighteen months and after six weeks I didn’t want to come back to her. That’s why I couldn’t remember that.
But actually I DID block an entire year out of my life later on: the last year of high school. My grandfather came to live with us and he took over my bedroom. I was sent down to the basement to sleep there until I went to college. I remember not one day of that time!
Irv
I had my trauma from ages 15-30, and I have dealt with it very little up until my mid 40’s. I’m turning 54 in March and I still haven’t dealt with it all. I think we do it a little at a time. I have done it in times of stress that break me down enough to where I HAVE TO deal with it. I also think that we have to revisit and deal with it at differently at different ages. Because we change, our understanding of ourselves changes, and and the way we view others and ourselves changes over the years.
You are most welcome!
I love that quote! I also love “Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% what you do with it.” That really empowered and inspired me during one of the darkest times of my life.
Yes, me too Barbara. There’s so much I have worked through and released in large part because of writing. I think it also helps a great deal to connect with other people who can relate and know that we are not alone in things we’ve struggled with.
You’re most welcome. Thanks so much Grace. =)
It’s so true Irving. How amazing that your mother reached out to you so that you could understand and work through some of your early experiences.
There are a lot of things I’ve worked through on my own, without being able to feel a sense of closure with the other people involved. I suspect it would be something like the conversation with your father–denial, blame, etc–because that’s what happened in the past. Luckily, none of it is as raw as it once was, but like you, I recognize those experiences still affect everything, so I embrace healing as an ongoing process!
How wonderful that you find that strength from your dog–and also that you’ve worked through your pain in order to help people through your blog!
It breaks my heart to know the abuse so many animals suffer–and yet they still find a way to be loving, affectionate companions.
I am an only child. I had so much love at home and was so sensitive and caring that when I got into school, I was ridiculed for it. For most of my early schooling (grades 3 to 8) I was called gay, a girl, was shunned, bullied and treated as a pariah for no reason other than that my disposition made me a fun and easy target. My formative years were spent with no friends, watching from the outside and hating those who hated me.
Though I thought I had gotten past the bewilderment and consuming rage that came from this treatment, I have recently begun to wonder if I’m really past it at all. Since those days, I have made an (un)conscious effort to be completely different from the majority (the cool kids who bullied me) as I can. Things that ‘everyone’ likes, I criticize. Things that ‘everyone’ does, I avoid. Norms that ‘everyone’ falls into, I question and ridicule.
Though I have a pretty good and normal life now, my drive to distance myself from the image I had of my tormentors has isolated me. Besides my fiancée and family, there is no one I want to spend time with: I may meet people I like and respect, but they will eventually let me down by having some trait that I associate with the bullies. I am distant and a loner… Much as I was in school.
Worst of all, I tell myself I like it this way. I worry that I am actually a personable person in the rough, and that I will die a lonely, friendless death without knowing why.
Sorry for writing a book here. This is the first time I’ve ever explored this in type… Your post opened the floodgates.
Hi Paul,
Your comment brought tears to my eyes, both because I feel for you and because I could relate. I felt much the same after having been bullied for many of my younger years–including the part about trying to be completely different and isolating myself.
I think the great thing about your comment is that you’re clearly highly self-aware. Many people have no idea why they’re hurting Once we understand what’s going on within us, we have the power to change.
Sending you lots of love~
Lori
Descent not decent