â€œThe friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing… not healing, not curing… that is a friend who cares.â€ – Henri Nouwen
I find myself fascinated by the healing/no healing firestorm I created by stating my own personal feelings on my â€œhealingâ€. The emails have continued to roll into me privately and I must say that are quite interesting. The demographics intrigue me. The various positions and who believes what is fascinating.
Overall, I received much more support than I did negativity. That was wonderful.
When I review the comments made here and my emails, interesting data points rise to the surface.
Group 1: The Offended Healed
Those that were most offended, upset, concerned about me saying I struggled with healing were either adoptees or psychology professionals (or adoptees who are psychology professionals). In fact, every person that objected was an adoptee or a psych person.
Individuals in this group were offended personally (which amuses me) that my inability/refusal to accept the healing concept for my life somehow affected them and their own ability. Um, err, I donâ€™t get that. A few words for that group: TAKE BACK YOUR POWER.
Several were incredibly rude and offensive and outright attackingâ€¦but they are healed. Um, yeah, okay. Who are you trying to convince? If you are so healed, why did my stating my personal struggle trigger something so deep inside you? You might want to revisit your own healing.
I find it laughable that it was suggested that my words would influence a legion of people to stop their own growth.
Why did the psych professionals get so bent? Am I ceasing office visits for them? Have huge masses of adoption trauma victims read the blog of an overweight working first mom in New England and decided they will cease therapy? Clearly, I am being sarcastic. Ultimately, I find it disheartening that these professionals were rather attacking of me instead of being supportive. The professionals hail from the US, Canada and Australia. Again, just interesting to me. What does it say about them?
Group 2: The Riding the Fencers
A number of people were still unsure. This group was mixed with moms and adoptees.
They had confusing, conflicting feelings about what it meant to â€œhealâ€. I received emails on the root origin of the word to heal, I received screens and screens of others stories and how they want to but donâ€™t believe they can. In general, this group was also supportive of me and seemed to understand that I was speaking for myself. They validated that they felt that understood my point but did not feel that my feelings anyway affected them. Good for you! Thatâ€™s growth right there.
Group 3: The Agreeables
The final group of individuals was rather strongly aligned with me and my struggles. They were very thankful to me for voicing mine. This group was made up completely of natural moms. This point makes me curious. I also find it interesting that while many of them comment regularly here on my blog, they were not comfortable to leave a comment. That says something, no?
Many feel the duality that I feel. That healing simply isnâ€™t possible. At least not in the way some position it. How do you get over the loss of a child? To death, adoption, infertility? As mothers, we donâ€™t see it. More importantly, in areas of adoption, we feel it is disloyal. We donâ€™t want to. Not only do we think we cannot but we donâ€™t want to. I touched on that in my previous post and my friend John states it a bit differently in his comment.
See the trap we are stuck in here?
- We cannot imagine feeling better. It feels wrong. Disloyal. Yet another crime against nature.
- Others tell us we must, we should, we can. More therapy, more reading, more support groups.
- Imagine we do, and then what? Then we have given the adoption industry baby brokers proof that adoption is easy, nothing, mothers get over it.
We want to feel better, but if we do, we feed the very beast that ate our children.
Finally, and probably related to the above, what exactly IS healing? Is it a state of making whole? Of it never hurting? Of the loss ceasing to matter? Is that up to interpretation? Does anyone have the right to tell another how to heal and what it will mean?
Consider this analogy. I have a documented dangerously highly pain tolerance. Something with endorphins or something. Doctors told my parents at a young age to watch me. That I could seriously injure myself and it wouldnâ€™t hurt me like it hurt others.
One could assume that means my â€œhealingâ€ would be different than someone elseâ€™s. They might hurt forever where I would hurt for weeks. They might scar. I might not.
How can we apply, truly, the same rules to everyone? How do we suggest that all can heal and heal the same way? Or are we suggesting that?