Healing and I aren’t on a speaking basis right now. It isn’t running on my schedule so I don’t want to speak to it. I figure that if it isn’t doing it’s job than I shouldn’t have to communicate with it. Period.

I’ve been doing a lot of pretending recently. Pretending to not be lonely so that I don’t feel the sting of losing friends to time and distance. Pretending that everything’s okay when people talk to me because they don’t have the time or energy to hear how things really are sometimes. Pretending that I’m not bothered by situations when I am. Pretending like I’m over a hurt when I’m not.

Of course, I’m aware that the pretending halts my healing process. It’s not like I can actually get over having hurt feelings when I’m busy pretending they aren’t there. Rather, the hurt just keeps piling up. Which makes it harder to heal.

I’m working towords letting go, accepting, and healing. The first two are another post coming very soon. But they precipitate healing. I can’t heal until I let go of the wounds. Until I accept that I cannot change people.

I think that I’ve been living with wounds inflicted by people close to me for a large part of my life. And perversely enough, I think I’ve learned to like the way it feels to be hurt – emotionally, not physically. I have a hard time letting go. Therefore I have a hard time healing. Therefore I’m not on good terms with healing right now.

~The Countess~


About texancountess

I find myself in the calming roar of the sea, floating gently on the foam of the breaking waves. Blue. Green. Gray. The colors of the sea mark the boundaries of my soul. The tumbled glass finds its polish under the relentless pounding of the waves upon the shore. Thus am I. Rough transitioning to polish, refinement ever a process, finding my niche in the storms of life.
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One Response to Pretending

  1. Shiny says:

    One of the things that makes healing so difficult is that unless God intervenes, letting go and forgiving has to be done daily – there is no ending to the wounds, no permanent burial of hurts. Then when you’re down, you open your trunk of hurts you carry around with you and pull out each pain like pulling off the scab. Eventually, the pain scars over and then you get out the knife to reopen it – sometimes the knife is someone’s words or a scene in a movie or a smell or a song. It feels good to be a victim. I hate it and I know you do too. I’m praying for you love – I know now why God put you on my heart so strongly – I’m weeping for you and praying for you and hopefully I can be there in some small way for you. Love you, miss you.

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