Healing childhood wounds: Travel to love and connection

Healing childhood wounds: Travel to love and connection

Returning to Washington DC from the coast of New England, the I-95 drive was a disastrous construction zone, accidents, and a rush hour traffic. I’m glad my husband was on the wheel.

After visiting my daughter at Connecticut State on the weekend, I was ready to check out, so I scrolled social media on my mobile phone and gave my time unconsciously. However, when I pause with my favorite self -help influencer, Cory Muscara, I got something very different from the craving relaxation.

I started following Colie a few months ago. After a friend sent me a post about navigating an important life transition. After my daughter left college, I faced the sky nest and was about to be 50. To help my change, I was immersed in all self -improvement content that I could find.

Corie’s impressive blue eyes and calm and stable voices attracted me. He was a former monk K, a speaker who appealed to the heart, and all the teachers of Zen. In a post with my attention in the car, he walked in the forest, and the green hoodie was pulled on his head. My husband was busy with the phone call, so the sound was mute and focused on the caption.

A word of my attention: Fire ball. I continued to read, overcome the stored pain, released from the destructive pattern, and was hooked on gradual instructions to achieve freedom and inner peace.

I am good at following the instructions, but the concept of letting go and surrender makes me frustrate. I want to do it, how about? I hoped that Corie was trying to get an answer.

I was told to connect with my heart. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, and felt the space where my heart was occupied by my chest. Next, I was to identify the struggling barriers and disability. Something that hinders what I really want, that is, love.

When you find a barrier, you need to imagine that my heart flows towards it and softers it. And when the barriers began to be softer, I observed it to solve it. At the bottom of this is a fireball.

In Collie’s slang, it was a core wound. Google defines this as a deep emotional wound that can duty into an important event as a child. It can be caused by suppressed pain and emotions, which can lead to a belief system about yourself. Core wounds are the results of the unonforced needs, and can include messages such as “I am not enough” or “not worthy of love.”

Corie warned that he moved toward the pain, saw it, and acknowledged it. As my memory was established, I felt emotional pain and started playing many times in my heart. And he was right: it was a fireball.

I was about 14, but it was the end of school day. I remember walking with my friends to the bus stop. And I saw my mother on the carpool line. She had never picked me up from high school. She was driving a new red sports car.

In my afternoon, when I grew up as a child and a latchky child in a small town in a small town in northern Arizona, I often spent my time at home alone. My parents were involved in their career, were an aggressive member of the community, and often did not return home late in the evening. My neighbors were mainly retired, and the distance from the town made it difficult to tingle with friends.

My parents wondered why I didn’t want to spend time with me. Did I love you?

With all the pain and anxiety I felt every day, the sight of my mother waiting for me on the carpool line filled me with joy. Looking at her, I felt her new car and what I rarely felt: special.

My heart has risen sharply. I couldn’t believe she surprised me. I stopped on my truck without believing she was actually there. I went to a friend and said I had to run as fast as possible. When I climbed the passenger seat, I was out of breath.

“Thank you for coming to pick me up!” I said.

My mother turned to me. “Oh, I’m not here for you, Jennifer. I’m picking up a client.”

Before I responded, she added, “I will see you at home.”

Mom was a therapist and the client was a student.

I remember how I swallowed the feelings of tears and rejection.

I walked to the bus stop. It felt like the longest ride in my life, and I went home for a long time. What I wanted to do was the only thing I wanted to do because I got angry at myself, and pulled the cover on my head and pulled the cover.

That night, when mom returned from work, the incident was not mentioned.

And now, 35 years later, I sitting in the car and crying, remembering the painful moment. I found a fireball, and I was told to stay there, but what was it? I don’t know what to do next, did I have to stay with the wounds of this core?

This is when you realize that a girl on the bus many years ago needed an adult to calm her. I closed my eyes and imagined that she sat next to her 50 -year -old and hold her hand. I asked her to tell me what was wrong, and I listened with compassion. I sat with her until the pain sank. Until our pain sinks.

When I opened my eyes, I realized that an hour has passed since I started watching Colly. I was surprised that my husband was too distracted and I was not aware of tears to wipe out.

I felt a mixture of disappointment and cheap relief. I felt sad that he didn’t know that my tears were sitting near me, but the experience was very personally felt, so the burden to explain to him at that moment. I didn’t want.

It was proven that following Cory’s instructions were more effective than my last two years. In this short time, I not only took care of myself, but also noticed the needs of the 14 -year -old girl. I knew exactly what she needed to hear.

It was up to me to heal her wounds.

The girl on the bus did not understand why her mother would dismiss her daughter so easily, but I could explain. As my mother expressed to me as a child, I was able to see that I grew up with an alcoholic mother and a travel father.

She did not allow her to be interested in my emotional needs, as she was conditioned to protect her. I couldn’t sympathize with me, not because I didn’t love me, but for her deep wounds.

I tried to talk with my mother about this incident and other cases, but every time my painful childhood memory rises, she inevitably said, “I did something right. I asked you? It is clear that these conversations are not open conversations with me.

It took me a few days to tell my husband what happened while the boarding was. I talked to him that he was no longer painful, but I still felt life, and I was worried that it was not explaining exactly. I did it. However, I was excited to share this new tool, as I explained Corie’s steps and how the memory was processed until the fireball disappeared.

He was surprised and said, “I can’t believe you had that experience in that car!”

Then I asked him if he was sitting next to him and noticed my tears. He replied, “No, I was concentrated on the road.”

The truth, like my mother, does not synchronize with my emotions as much as I wanted. However, healing this childhood wounds has helped me in my relationship with him and others. I am confident that I am now expressing my emotions, and if I do not feel, I will always talk.

Through this trip, I have come to understand that there is a solution in us. We have the ability to raise our own young parts and recognize the unique value of love. Probably, like me, you will spend time with your young self and heal by dealing with their pain.

About Jennifer Sullivan

Jennifer Sullivan Beby is a writer based in Chevy Chase, Maryland. She writes a personal essay that explores the theme of maternal, femininity, and complexity of everyday life. When she hasn’t written the next work, Jennifer can enjoy tennis and pickle ball games, searches outdoors through hiking, and find peace and balance on yoga mats. You can find her on Facebook and Instagram.

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