The scar tissue of the sprained ankle sent sharp pain into a joint I knew to be healed.
Why the contrast?
The further I understood my childhood the more brutally I felt the aches.
Why the timing?
I made myself late to work in self sabotage but then got back on the highway.
Why the fear?
There's this thing that happens when we're healing - physically, emotionally, and even psychologically.
Our body has to remember the loss. Our heart has to mourn the depth. Our mind has to test the old neural pathway.
It's a consistent pattern.
And it's frustrating.
Just as I feel I'm making progress, the most innocuous circumstance or sensory experience reminds me just how weak and vulnerable I really am.
I don't really have any answers to give except an observation...
Pain comes hand in hand with healing.
Don't be afraid.