Everything reminds me of…

After holding something in for twenty-five years, now that I have finally let go, it should come as no surprise when it gushes out in endless torrents and cascades. But the fact that it may be understandable doesn’t stop a voice inside me from whispering, “will you stop obsessing… just get over it… move on already…” Of course, a more charitable voice will sometimes come to my defence: “this is a necessary process… give yourself time to heal and adjust…”

Often I feel as if I am emotionally and intellectually chasing my tail — repeatedly going through the same cycle of emotions, the same thought processes, the same inner dialogue. Perhaps this is an inevitable (or at least valid) part of the journey toward some kind of peace. Hopefully, in spite of appearances, I am actually making some kind of progress.

I suppose many people, for one reason or another, go through a phase of reassessment when they reach midlife. It seems natural to take stock of the first half of your life, take satisfaction in your successes, be thankful for the gifts that have enriched your life, come to terms with unfulfilled hopes, check your bearings to see whether you’re headed in the right direction. And when you realize that for decades you have been living with a deep wound that has never healed, I suppose it’s only natural to obsess a little. After all, it only takes a tiny paper cut, and suddenly all you can think about is your little finger.