The perspective of a "Wounded Healer"
The term "wounded healer" is used to describe someone who has been through a similar experience as the person they are trying to help. This term also describes someone who is willing to face their own pain in order to help someone else. This is a term often used in the psychology field to describe the therapist and the patient.
When researching The Wounded Healer, Carl Jung's theory of the wounded healer archetype; I found information or statements about suffering are both necessary and purposeful. I like to differ. Suffering is part of the human experience, but in no way do I find it purposeful. However, many can find purpose or meaning, the catapult of transformation, whichever seems to soothe the wounds afterward. Sure, there can be lessons in life, even from the painful moments whether they were inflicted on us, or we did it ourselves.
At the beginning of my spiritual journey, an important person referred to me as a wounded healer and encouraged me to look into this concept. They had noticed that when I help others, I am also healing myself. I wasn't sure at first, but I have definitely been reminded of this concept recently and the experiences that have influenced my development. There was a chapter in my life, during my 20s, that was lonely. The grief of ending a 10-year toxic friendship, to whom I send love and wish them the best when they come to mind to this day. I own my own participation in the toxicity of that friendship.
This concept just kept appearing in my own life, despite how skeptical I am. But then I find myself revisiting my old wounds and seeing them from a different perspective when someone shares their story.
Shortly after, stepping away from organized religion and losing my belief in an omnipresence that I knew deep down, I was only loved conditionally. In turn, poisoning the view and love for myself. This chapter contained a few years of grieving from that point on. A lot of grief, and even fear of, “am I making the wrong decision?” But with time, wandering about, I knew it was the right choice for myself.
Fast forwarding, the ending of an 8-year toxic relationship. More on that in "Cheers to You". With all this, as a healer, I admit that my wounds have not fully healed in this area for many reasons that have not been shared in my writing. I know this because I still have dreams of feeling trapped, taking steps backward, and being reminded of the things I did enjoy during those times, and more importantly why it ended and I'm running away from them in my dreams and in waking life.
I work with many on their own journeys. And god damn it, I get some that are going through similar heartbreaks that are all too familiar. In turn, bringing up my own shit. All more validation of why I am in therapy. But, there is a bright side to this. When I help them through it, I speak words as seeds, planting them within their mind, their spirit. Things that I could've used at the time and cultivate growth. In a way, it helps me heal and grow too. And it's all too beautiful.
I don't entirely enjoy this. In fact, I sometimes wish I was just a foolish person that continues to live freely and doesn't take a moment to be insightful. At times, not even consider what other people are feeling, or even perceive me. But then I probably wouldn't be doing what I'm doing now. It would still be a painful space to be in, what I like to say about others who choose to, “swim in their own shit.” Then I would miss having the honor of being part of someone else's healing journey. And that is worth it. It’s amazing and all too beautiful to be allowed in someone’s space. Doing the best of my ability to provide acknowledgment and acceptance of who that person is. Even if their life choices are not my cup of tea.
At the end of this and of my years in the future, I prefer to be my own Baba Yaga of the woods. Aging gracefully with wisdom gained from life experience. All the lessons I learned, and the empowerment I gained. Being the source of rumors of the mad woman in the forest. The stories of the mad woman who greets you when you arrive at her home for medicine. She has you come in and sit down for a warm meal. Tells you stories of being young once, being in love, and having beautiful devil-spawned children.
Because at the end of the day, at the end of my years. Ultimately, I can find purpose through the bullshit and share the medicine gained from it. Experience happiness regardless of these experiences. Pass it on to my little devil children. Maybe scare my partner at times because I enjoy it. Live life freely, on the edge, in-between spaces.
