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She was one of the many young volunteers who come from Europe and North America to work among the poor in India. She met me, in a counselling relationship and later as a friend, to discuss her work and her life. In the process, I came to know her background, her strengths, the thorns she carried, as well as the hopes. Her family was far from OK or “normal.” Enough to think of the unhappy marriage of her parents, the unsettling events during her years of growing up, the turbulence of her own life. Among other things, she told me how a couple of times young men liked her a lot, and wanted a deeper relationship. It might have led to something meaningful, like marriage. But, in each case, she had panicked and withdrawn. The reason: “I have no feelings for a man as a normal woman would have. I do not know why. How can I let a young man get close to me, when I know I cannot respond?” I asked her
whether she had been sexually abused as a child. She could not remember,
she said, but added it was a possibility, given the unhealthy atmosphere
at home. “This is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life,” she told me. Therapy—going deep into your inner wounds and seeking healing—can be frightening and painful, as anyone who has been through it can tell you. It was harder and more frightening than her hard life among the poor in India with almost no physical comforts. But she stuck it out. I met her at that centre. A period of silence followed, when I had no news from her. Then came a handwritten card—her wedding invitation. It said, “Joe, you will be glad to know there is a me, happy and well…” I did not ask for details. Evidently, her blocks in loving a man and accepting his love, and responding to a man as a normal woman can, had been removed. She sounded wonderfully happy. Still later came a photo of her newly born daughter. “It is a blessed time,” she wrote. “I am falling in love over and over again.” E-mail has given us faster and easier means of contact. Her recent mail included two photos—the first showing her, her husband and her daughter; the other, a snap of her daughter alone. She looks so happy in the picture. About her husband she writes: “He is a good, good man…” Her joy at her daughter is too evident to need more words. “I hope you will be able to meet this family of mine some day.” She continues to take interest in the poor and the handicapped, and visits them regularly—as often as the care of a newly born child allows. But now, unlike years ago, it is a deeply healed and happy young woman who deals with the handicapped. Genuine love and deep compassion there always was; what is new is this ecstatic joy, this marvel at the incredibly beautiful gifts of love and new life. My title is “Wounded Healers.” I chose that title for two reasons. One: There are only wounded healers. The “unwounded’ variety of human being does not exist—except in our imagination. If we wait until all our wounds are healed, before we reach out to heal others, we will never start. The young woman of my story did impressive and very loving work among the emotionally wounded while she herself was at a loss as to how to be healed. Two: Very often, those who carry more pain and scars are better healers. They seem to understand others’ pain better. They seem to hear people’s unexpressed cries of pain which stronger people often miss. They seem to sense with their heart what people in pain really look for. Like the wounded healer of this true story, we would do well to reach out and do the healing we can with our current inner resources, without waiting for perfect conditions or ideal levels of health and happiness. But we should also, like her, admit our wounds, accept to be helped and do our part to seek the healing we need. There is no point in staying in a painful situation, or denying our hurts and wounds, and depriving ourselves of the fullness that life and love can offer us. When we do this, our lives take on so much more beauty and strength, and we become even better healers than before. Wounded
healers that you and I are, can we not learn much from this young
woman’s compassionate love, her courage in seeking healing, and her
new-found ability to savour life and love in a way she had never
imagined possible? May you and I heal others as much as we can right
now, seek healing for our inner wounds (rather than hug and keep them!),
and be ready to let life and love invade our wounded life and fill it to
the brim! * * * |
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