Growing Passed the Hole

Usually when I sit down to write about something, I’ll recall recent memories and put them down into words after running ’em through a sort of contextual filter that helps me to understand what it all means, and how it all connects to everything else around me.  Ditto for long term memories.  That’s why I blog.  It’s my way of checking in with myself.

It’s good methinks to check back on those articles to see if how my view then, measures up with how I see things now.  I know that I am in a different place.  The fog of some memories has lifted, while my perspective on others remains yet unrefined.

I found myself in a conversation with someone who is fast becoming a good friend.  She’s going through something I experienced for myself a few years back.  I recall in vivid full colour, the pain of those memories – except that pain is no longer there.  It passed some time ago, without ceremony or poetry.  I went looking on the shelf for it, as I tried relating my painful story to my friend’s, and the pain was simply gone.  Just a hole left behind.

Same hole that was there when that piece of myself was ripped from me.  Felt like a giant crater at the time.  The bleeding edges have healed over.  Scar tissue.  Nothing new will grow there – and I’m okay with that.  I wouldn’t trade that hole for anything.

It’s been a couple years or so, and I’ve found that I’ve grown passed that hole.  My sense of who I am, and what I want, and what I’ve experienced has grown much bigger than where I was then.  The hole remains the same, but I am more than who I was at the time.

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