Protective Layer of Cope

I grew up knowing Jane Fonda to be a fitness tape guru and not much else. The desire to apologize for that ignorance is strong, strong indeed.

As I was flipping channels the other day, I caught her telling some of her story. Recollections of childhood gave my heart a familial ambience as she divulged both raw and dull emotion and dynamics from her past.

Magnetically, she lured me into her narrative and fascinated, I sat perfectly still, listening. As my decaf coffee sat untouched, growing colder phrase by painful phrase, she came to make a profound statement that has revolved and evolved in my mind ever since. It was this:

“We develop coping mechanisms to survive but we keep them longer than their shelf life and they become impediments.”

What once was a cloak wrapped around the heart to protect from the cold bite of pain, now becomes a lasting lacquer leaving no possibility for breath, in or out. Its impenetrable nature chokes life and love both from the host, and those in their midst.

Coping mechanisms are a necessary evil, in fact originating innocently and helpfully. Sometimes we must protect from harm. If we don’t, we might be obliterated in the process of relationship.

But the need to remove the cloak before it solidifies is urgent. If not destroy, at minimum we must keep it pliable, to be used only when necessary.

How do we accomplish this?

I wish I knew. For I fear this progression has already completed its task deep in my heart.

Can the barrier be fractured? I pray it may, letting the air of freedom and love seep in.

 

Amen.

A Question of Pain

Life equals pain.

And joy and love and hate and thrill and boredom and fear and excitement and story.

Story definitely includes pain.

It seems everywhere I turn, people are hurting.

Explanation as to the reasons for suffering have been thrown carelessly around, often adding yet another thorn or two, digging into the already raw wound life has produced.

I don’t understand.

I don’t understand why pain is so prevalent, but even more so, I don’t understand why people find the need to use inadequate word in effort to explicate the question of why, when simply reaching out a loving hand would impart an immeasurable extent of help.

When we must endure hardship, the question of why is a valid one. As long as we accept the reality that it will probably go unanswered.

But when others must bear a heavy load, action speaks louder than reason.  Perhaps we should concern ourselves more with when rather than get stuck in the why.

Everyone is involved in a story - a gritty, rubber-hits-the-road kind of story. Do we wish to enter into the story of our neighbour (who perhaps hides the scars of abuse from the hand of their spouse), the harried mother waiting in line at the grocery store (who perhaps secretly struggles with addiction), the stranger standing on a street corner begging for change (who perhaps gave up when his son was killed by a drunk driver)? Will we listen as we step onto the page and offer to walk alongside in the messy mire of mud? Or will we become an unintelligible and ineffective “hero”, devastatingly altering the story with the added baggage of explanation and opinion?   

I’m here to say this: Let’s join together in the story - in the joy and love and yes, in the pain. And rather than trying to explain it away, let’s love it away, because as strong as pain can be, absolute pure love will always trump it.

It is up to us to make that happen.

Us.

You and me.

Amen.

To privately contact me send message to susiewithans@gmail.com