Permission to Heal

Perception influences how we face life's challenges. We understand the care and patience needed to cope with circumstances like loss, an injury, or an equal opportunity illness. These situations, and ones like them, are not attached to judgment so we give ourselves proper time and permission to heal. However, not all circumstances elicit the same reaction.

In 2011, my father died suddenly. I have given—and will continue to give—myself the space to acknowledge what I feel, talk about him, and do what is necessary to cope with his absence. I don't pretend or hide my hurt to make anyone, including myself, more comfortable because I don't see the need. There is no judgment attached to my grief. I haven't been so kind to myself in all situations, though, and as a result, I have complicated and extended my healing process.

I was sexually abused for seven years. The emotion tied to simply making that straightforward admission is exactly what made the road to recovery difficult and complex. Unlike grieving the loss of my father, shame and self-blame was connected to the abuse so I did everything I could to avoid facing its impact on my life. Instead of focusing energy and attention on pursuing peace and making emotionally healthy decisions, I tried to protect myself by ignoring its influence and I tried to protect others from my pain by hiding it. I muted my hurt and took on the unreasonable responsibility of making others comfortable with what I had to endure.

Maybe you have an issue that you've attached to shame, guilt, self-blame, or disappointment. Whether you are coping with the effects of child abuse, sexual assault, abandonment, neglect, domestic violence, infidelity, an eating disorder, an addiction, or a mental health issue, acknowledge your truth and work through the process of recovery. Release the judgment(s) attached to your circumstance. Detach from anyone or anything that hinders your healing. Let go of the notion that it's been long enough already. Free yourself from making others comfortable with what you had to endure. When you separate judgment from your circumstance, you can walk in your truth and give yourself permission to heal.

Perception

About two years ago I developed a fascination with a particular sports car. Suddenly, a car I’d only seen a few times started appearing everywhere. I saw it in parking lots, on the highway, riding alongside me in the city, and even on my job. Depending on the day I thought it was either a conspiracy of cruelty or confirmation.

Perception is powerful. What we perceive creates our reality. That sports car was not released two years ago. There aren’t more of them on the road. I started seeing more of them because my eyes were trained to pay more attention to them. Prior to the Nissan Z being on my radar, I couldn’t even point one out. Now, I can nearly sense them from a mile away. Knowing that prompted me to ask, “What else am I not seeing because it is not on my radar?”

This week has been emotionally trying because of the one-year anniversary of my father’s death. Many thoughts and questions and memories passed through my mind. On the day of the anniversary, I was traveling and as I walked through the airport I realized that I was in the very same place where I’d last seen him. He dropped me off at the airport and I had every intention of having him pick me up four months later. Unfortunately, he died a month shy of my return.

As I walked through the airport just the other day, the realization hit me a bit hard. I sent a message to someone close to me saying, “I am at the same place I last saw my dad.” My heart felt heavy, but the response I got changed my perception. Her reply was a bit of a wake-up call. She asked, “Myla, don’t you get it? You are where you are for a reason!” Someone else had to change my perspective and point out the beauty that existed in that day. Instead of remaining sad and lonely, my attention shifted. I understood that where I was at that moment, the year to the day he died, was purposed. I was exactly where I was meant to be that day. It was entirely too big of a coincidence to be at the very airport of a city I didn’t live in then—nor do I live in now—on the day when I was missing him a bit more than usual.

My circumstances didn’t change. My longing for him didn’t decrease. All that changed was my perspective. Once I shifted my focal point, how I felt on the anniversary of my father’s death was bigger than grief, sadness, and longing. Once I changed my perspective, I saw the anniversary of his death as larger than my initial feelings. Sometimes all the change we need is to change our perception. Sometimes all we need to do is change our minds.

What is the Nissan Z or anniversary of your life? What holds your interest? Where do you focus your attention? We all have joy and pain. We all have laughed and cried. We all have love and heartache. Are you primarily focused on the heartaches? Or do you focus your energy on the love in your life? Just as with a car we may notice after it has caught our eye, beauty and love exists all around us. Circumstances can cloud your vision, but that doesn’t mean goodness isn’t and hasn’t always been there. Sometimes you simply need to open your eyes and pay more attention.