So many times victims ask, “How much longer will I hurt?” I hesitate to tell them the truth; that it has taken me 4 years and although I feel basically healed I am still not “fixed”. I tell people to be patient with themselves and sometimes the mere worry that we are taking too long to heal slows our healing process. Everyone heals at their own speed, they may suffer from similar abuse but they all have their own history and their own demons to deal with. I hope that by sharing my experiences I shorten the healing of some people because they don’t have to make the same mistakes I made. ie: not going no contact and trying to stay friends with the narcissist which slowed my healing by at least a year. But even then some people are just not ready to let go.
We all have our own time table and things happen when the timing is right. Knowing what I know today, would I have done things differently? who knows, I like to think so, but I didn’t so it is a mute point. I look back now and would not change anything because it brought me to a greater understanding of myself and it enabled me to become a more authentic me. I hope to never stop growing and never stop becoming more self aware and a better person. I don’t consider it to be healing any more, but growing. Hopefully for the better and hopefully for the rest of my life.
As always Scott says it best and he got me thinking. Something I love about Scott’s posts; they always get me thinking.
Why didn’t I do this earlier?
I feel like a child who is only now beginning to understand how to think. When I was twenty I knew everything. At thirty I knew that I had been a moron when I was twenty. At forty I started to grow up. Here I am again, a kid in a candy store; cognizant of my own tiny intellect.
Why didn’t I do this earlier? Chances are, that was not possible. The stars have aligned, to steal a metaphor, at this particular time. I would like to believe that I could always understand what I now know to be self-evident. The reality is, however, that I was a bit of an idiot for most of my younger life. There were moments of clarity, but these were usually skewed by rushes of immaturity and fragile ego.
I hadn’t hurt enough yet. I hadn’t been broken.
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