When I was 21 I was in a serious car accident. My car was totaled & I was extremely traumatized, but physically all I walked away with were some stitches in my left arm from where the driver’s side window shattered. For weeks I observed as the twin wounds of my psyche & my arm healed in tandem.
Emotionally I could not drive for several days; although eventually my mom wisely coaxed me back into the driver’s seat & I tentatively ventured out onto the roads, again. I never approached intersections the same (the accident occurred in an intersection), & I drove much more cautiously & defensively, because I knew now, firsthand, the terrifying risks. Almost twenty years later, I still drive cautiously, & I have been triggered more than once by “close calls,” instantly transported back to that terrifying experience I had as a young driver.
Physically, my arm healed quickly. The skin closed & the stitches came out in a week. The scar, however, was unusual. It remained raised & red. Occasionally one end would swell & become irritated, as if something were trapped just under the surface—perhaps a stray piece of glass embedded in the skin initially unnoticed & now stuck there. This lasted for several years until finally, inexplicably, it went away. Perhaps whatever it was finally worked itself out into the light & the scar was finally able to heal, years later, flat & white.
It takes time.
It takes longer than you think.
To experience. To process. To let it out. To recover. To regain your footing.
It takes real time. In a world that doesn’t like to spend much time on anything. And certainly doesn’t teach us to sit with the uncomfortable things patiently. But I’ve found that’s what you’ve got to do. Healing bodies, healing hearts, healing minds, healing habits, healing souls. It all takes time. Walk gently. I have to remind myself of that frequently: It takes time. Keep walking gently.
