As a 17-year-old, I did not know that I could do anything else with my pain than live out of it and transmit it.
As a result, my wound festered.
Rather than attend to the infection, I ignored it and allowed it to become more toxic.
Metallica joined me there, though. They seemed to understand what I was feeling. James Hetfield sympathetically sang the song, My Friend of Misery, to me at least a hundred times a day. While he allowed me to join his angry refrain, I completely missed the irony of the line, "Remember, misery loves company."
It is always easy to find people who will join you in your anger and misery but who have no interest in journeying deeper with you.
I suppose it is good to know you are not alone. But living out of a wound without ever going deeper is not the best end destination. We can end up walking in circles with the wounded multitudes on the periphery of an angry status quo without any idea that there is a more generative and healing path.
That was me.
Granted, I was a young man. But even when space was created for me to go deeper, I was content walking in circles, living out of my wound, and seeking out those who would validate my anger.
I remember one of my teachers, Benny Newell, who met with me at Hardee's one early morning to see how I was doing. There was no forced agenda or talking points. He did not chastise me for being hurt and angry. He patiently listened and walked with me as I carried my wound, all the while hoping I would go deeper. But I never did. All I could do was hide my burning hatred behind empty platitudes.
When those closest to us say they are "holding space" for us, I wonder how often we miss the opportunity of their generosity. How many times do we neglect the space they give us to breathe and self-reflect? Why are we so quick to deflect and refuse an occasion to look inwardly at who we have become? When those who love us create space to search our motives and impulses that manifest from our wounds, why is it so difficult for us to see the gift they are giving us?
Question
Are there people in your life that “hold space” for you? As you have been carrying and living out of your wound/s, how might you have missed their gift of going deeper?
Peace,
Brandon