No one likes conflict. It's scary. It's ugly. It's unknown. It's all those unimagined things, the biggest boogie man of our fears beneath the bed of what we know to be safe, secure, certain. And, yet, in conflict, lies truth if we are willing to shovel through the muddiness it brings, the shit, the muck, the garbage, the remnants perhaps of things left unresolved. At the end of the day, we are all still children wanting to be loved, kept from harm, reassured that we are not alone.
Hurtful, painful experiences in our life stay with us until we acknowledge them for what they are and also for the lessons they are trying to teach us. Those moments or episodes in our lives that we associate with discomfort are often moments to pay attention to.
For years, I've dragged along with me some hurts that stabbed at my core because of how they made me feel unheard and unseen. Each incident brought more pain than the one before because it ate at the truth of who I am. I felt wrongly accused with no power to defend myself, my voice, my truth silenced, muffled, strangled. It left me not only not feeling very good about my ability to defend myself and take care of myself, but it also led me to believe that in order to maintain order, cohesion, avoid tension and conflict, I had to submit and subject myself to the worst kind of denial there is--denial of my truth and what's important to me, what I stand for, who I am and what I'm all about.
Today, I don't have answers on how to reconcile this diversion. What I do know is that my feelings are valid and my truth is real. They are as real as the color of my eyes and the beat of my heart. And when that child within me gives me reason to pause and wonder if I'm going to forsake them, I need to be able to confidently say, "I got you. I'm here for you. Together we will keep each other whole."