Respect - Right and Reward

Respect. 

Everyone wants it. Not everyone gets it. And ... sad to say, not everyone knows how to give it. 

"Find out what it means to me," go the lyrics of R-E-S-P-E-C-T sung by Aretha Franklin. 

Find out indeed. 

There have been some frank discussions in our household over the years about respect. Some believe it's their right; others believe it must be earned. Who is right? Who is wrong? 

Both beliefs, I'd venture to say, have a little truth to them.

Respect - the Right
Every human being has the right to be treated with respect. This is a basic, "do no harm" respect that recognizes that no matter who the person is, how much money they make or don't make, where they live or don't live, what their skin color, race, religion, or sexual orientation, regardless of how others feel about any of those things, this individual has the right to have an opinion, be heard, and not be mistreated. 

It's easy to treat someone with respect when he or she agrees with you. However, let that person espouse a belief (be it religious, political, sports-related, lifestyle-related or whatever) that is diametrically opposed to yours, and what happens? That's a gauge of how much fundamental respect is there. 

This kind of respect comes into play in everything from the way you treat your boss to the way you treat the person in front of you in the grocery store checkout line, from the way you treat your employees to the way you treat the person who serves you coffee at your favorite coffee shop. Courtesy, respect, and acceptance are some of the foundational rules of engagement for any relationship - no matter how superficial ... or how close ... it happens to be. 

This kind of respect can best be understood by thinking of property lines in the suburbs. Everyone in the suburbs lives on a certain parcel of land - usually 80 x 100 or 100 x 150 feet. People's property lines abut against each other. If you are respectful of property lines, you wouldn't (at least I HOPE you wouldn't!!) dream of walking your dog and cutting across my property as a short-cut to get where you want to go ... not unless you'd cleared it with me in advance and agreed to pick up your dog's mess along the way. That's showing respect. 

It's the same with personal boundaries. Everyone (within the bounds of legality) has the right to his or her own choices, opinions, and actions - as long as those do not infringe on the right of others to have their own choices, opinions and actions. 

And that means that those same people have the right to bear the consequences of those choices, opinions, and actions: not those of others, but those that they themselves choose, think, and do. 

That's basic respect. Everyone needs it and everyone has the right to expect it.

Respect - the reward
One thing and one thing only can erode and destroy respect. 

It is a lack of trust.

If someone has proven - through consistent action - that he or she cannot be trusted, then trust must be earned back before those people (who were lied to or deceived in some way by this person) will be able to respect and accept what he or she says. 

Honesty is oxygen for trust and for respect. If it is lacking in someone, trust and respect for that person will become weak - and eventually die. 

For many years, while my husband was in active alcoholism, lies were a way of life for him. Over the years, my trust in him, in what he said to me, wore away, got weak, and died. It got so I mistrusted everything he said to me, not just about "not drinking" but also about so many other things. I was suspicious of everything - literally everything - that he said to me. Especially when he told me he loved me. It was a horrible time for me ... AND for him. 

I often thought about leaving the relationship, it was so unlivable. It didn't mean that I didn't love him; I did. It was just that I couldn't stand the constant lying. The lying - to me - was way worse than the alcoholism itself (even though that was awful enough!) 

When he first got into recovery, (as did I - from trying to control and manipulate people or let them walk all over me - never a happy medium!) he embraced a new way of living which demanded rigorous honesty.

Although I really hoped that he would be able to stop lying, I was skeptical. I didn't know if he could. I was never sure that he was telling me the truth. For months, he patiently went about proving to me that what he was saying to me was true... even to the point of showing me receipts for items he'd purchased, allowing me access to see his bank account and credit card usage, and keeping a breathalyzer in the car. He kept on keeping on, in spite of my disbelief. He gave me permission to "call" him on areas where I knew he wasn't being completely honest ... which I did at times. When I did, he was fairly quick to recognize the error, or explain in more detail what he meant, so as to clear up any misunderstanding.  And during that whole time (and ever since) he did what he had to do in his own private recovery journey, so as 0to develop and maintain his spiritual condition. 

"Serpentine Pathway Stones On A Park Lawn" courtesy of arturo at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

The process took months - about 15 months to be more precise. As he proved himself in one instance, it was like a paving stone in a walkway of trust. Every paving stone increased the strength of that trust. Respect was the reward for all those little stones - my respect for him. 

I'm  happy to say that - although it took many months of consistent honesty on his part - I did indeed learn to trust him again, and with that trust came the respect I had lost. I am so glad to have it back - and so is he!

Occasionally someone in my life will destroy the trust and respect I've come to have for him or her. Though the relationship might be a different one, and have different rules, the process of rebuilding that trust and respect is the same. And, the key to building that back - the lesson I learned vicariously through my husband's experience - is that it takes a lifestyle change and consistency in behavior and in intention before such a precious commodity can be restored. 

Basically put, it takes more than words. It takes attitudes and actions over time. Sometimes a long time. 

When I have broken someone's trust, and I have on occasion, it takes a lot of time and effort to gain a hearing with that person. Often, it's frustrating to know you are telling the truth and you still are not believed.

I keep the following things in mind when I know my motives to be pure.

• Gaining the respect of others is absolutely impossible without self-respect.
• Seeking the respect or approval of others can be a trap because it can lead to chameleon-like behaviors, changing who I am to fit in, and therefore a loss of identity. 
• The more comfortable I am inside my own skin, the less it matters what someone else thinks of me. 

One thing is certain: it takes far less time to destroy trust-based respect than it does to rebuild it.  This one fact is one of the reasons why, in my own life, I seek to be scrupulously honest and trustworthy. 

I can't afford not to be. 

More Lessons from Yarn

I keep learning from these crocheting projects! 

After I finished my first real "clothing" project (a hat) which turned out to be too small for an adult, I donated it to a local charity for a yard sale they had coming up. So ... it went to a good cause, and I learned a whole passel of stuff.

I decided to try again. This time, I had some black yarn I'd picked up at a local craft shop. Applying the lessons I learned from my previous project (see my previous post) I took my time, relaxed my grip, unraveled when I made a mistake, and trusted the pattern. 

I'm about half-way through and it's looking fairly good so far. However, I have learned even more from my second than my first, especially because I used black yarn.

Black yarn is harder to work with than ... say ... pink. It's DARK!

So, here are the things I've learned from crocheted (crow shade) work (yes, I know it's a very old, very bad joke!)

Increase the contrast
Use a hook that will contrast well against the color you're using. This helps you to see where the stitches are on the hook and will prevent you from messing up the stitches. 

It helps to have a guide like that, to be sure of where you are and where you want to go. The backdrop of a clear vision of what you really want to do is the starting place for accomplishing it. 

Try not to get discouraged
Sometimes the mistakes look hopeless. Taking your time with it, finding out where it went wrong, and having a little patience to work your way back to the blunder can take extra time, but it is worth it if it results in a successful piece. Setting it down for a little while can help recharge the batteries and give fresh perspective.

In our dealings with those who are closest to us, sometimes we think too many mistakes have taken place on both sides. However, it's worth the extra time that it takes to ferret out what went wrong, deal with it honestly, and work it through (individually or together) without succumbing to the tendency to have a chip on our shoulder.

If it's stuck, it's stuck
Backtracking can sometimes only go so far; at times there has been a hanger-on that has caused a tangle beyond which it's impossible to go. The tighter you pull, the tighter the knot gets. At such a time, the choice remains to go with it the way it is, or cut the yarn and start over from scratch. Either way, it is what it is and all you can do is accept it.

Some things can be lived with. And, like it or not, some things aren't fixable and it's time to say goodbye. True in crocheting, true in relationships or circumstances. It does no good to get upset about it - accepting the situation as it is, is the only way to relieve the stress and find some peace.

Turn on the light
Making it easy on yourself is sometimes no more complicated than reaching up and turning on a light so you can see where to go next, count stitches to find out where you've been, or do a row count to make sure you're on the right part of the pattern. It's a great way to orient yourself and get a general idea of where you are.

At times, in relationships, it helps to clarify the rules, to shed light on expectations and let each other know where we stand. It's so easy to "coast" in relationships with those we love or with whom we work or volunteer. Checking to see if we're playing by the rules, taking each other for granted, or crossing boundaries that are better not crossed, is a wonderful exercise to do once in a while.

It keeps us from perpetuating errors that can destroy relationships. 

Go by feel
Sometimes, given the difficulty of knowing where the next stitch is (especially with dark-colored yarn) the only thing left to do is to "go by feel" - to follow the stitches with your fingers, even poking around in behind stitches to find the right opening. 

That's okay. Sometimes the feeling can give clues and cues that your eyes can't. Learn to work with it, to recognize what the stitches feel like. Then you can trust your sense of touch to guide you as well.

Feelings can sometimes be the only thing we have to go by in relationships; if the feelings are uncomfortable, it's a pretty safe bet that boundaries are being crossed and it might be a good idea to figure out what is going on and where things have gone astray. After a while you can even trust your feelings - contrary to popular belief.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Those are the most recent object lessons from the world of crochet. I'm sure there will be more. All I can do is keep my eyes and ears open, and trust my feelings.

I could do worse. ♥  

Learned by crocheting

The last couple of weeks have been rather stressful at our house, due to one daughter having surgery and another working through some interpersonal problems surrounding boundaries and freedoms, trust and respect, and rights and responsibilities. We as parents have also learned - or perhaps relearned - some old lessons. 

To de-stress, I decided to try something my [temporarily] disabled daughter has been doing to pass the time: crocheting. A friend came over one night to show her how - and I watched. After she had made a few simple items, I decided to try my hand at it - and was (pardon the pun) hooked! 

After spending the last week crocheting, I have learned that my fingers do indeed have muscles (they told me so in no uncertain terms!) and that I can keep away from other, more fattening pursuits by keeping those fingers busy (and it doesn't hurt that I don't want to get crumbs, or grease, or gunk, on my creations!)

I already know how to knit a little bit, and even though I had learned some lessons the hard way in knitting, it surprised me that I had to learn them all over again in crocheting!  I mean, not just about the skills required, but about the whole process. 

"White Glove" courtesy of nuttakit at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

As I learned - or relearned - how to work with yarn with respect to the art of crochet, I found myself humbled by the failures and having several of those "aha" moments along the way.

Here are some of the lessons I mean - and as I write, I find that I'm not just talking about crochet, but about life. Relationships. Setting boundaries. Letting go.

You will see what I mean:

Don't hold on too tightly
Hold the yarn, the makings of the masterpiece, lightly. If you hold on too tightly, the work will get all bunched up, lose its softness, become stiff and hard to do anything with. You'll lose your place, skip a stitch, and you'll work much harder than you need to work in order to make the next stitch. And the next. And every stitch after that. And to be honest, you'll end up hurting yourself by repeating motions over and over again while you are all tensed up. 

Let go. 

I forget this when it comes to people, especially people I care a lot about. I want so much for them to succeed that I tend to grab on to them too tightly... which only serves to reduce my ability to interact with them. Tensions build. The relationship becomes strained, stiff, unnatural. People can't breathe around that kind of clinginess, which is tantamount to controlling. 

Give yourself a break
Learning a new skill and seeing some progress with it is intoxicating at times. When I'm doing a project, I can't wait to see the finished product and sometimes I forget to take breaks. And then I wonder why my eyes can't focus on things across the room, or why I have pins and needles in my fingers from sitting in one position so long (especially when holding on too tightly) and thinking ever so quietly (and stubbornly) to myself, "Just one more row." 

It doesn't work like that. When life is out of balance, other things suffer. Taking a break to rest - or to do other things - can really give enjoyment and perspective to a task (or a bunch of tasks) that sometimes - especially in relationships that are strained - be very draining. 

It doesn't need to be much. For example, last evening, my husband had somewhere to go and I had the choice of staying home and crocheting ... or going to a local department store for an hour. I opted for the store. I hadn't had an outing "just for me" in months. And I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I even stopped at a nearby McDonalds for a small soft drink, and on the way back I got a smoothie to take home to my oldest, who can't get out of the house just now. It made her evening! And mine too: I ran into a young fellow at the McDonalds whom I hadn't seen in years - we caught up on the latest news and he even hugged me ... in public! The pièce de résistance was seeing the delighted look on my daughter's face after a particularly trying day, as I presented her with her smoothie. ☺

It's okay to do a "do-over." 
Frustrating as it is to get half-way through a piece and realize you've been doing something wrong the whole time, it's better to unravel the entire thing and start over than it is to muddle through and end up with something that doesn't fit. (Yes, I did the latter. Oh well - the hat will fit a child. Sighhh.)

It's okay to start over again. It's okay to admit mistakes, even if by doing so the end result takes three times longer to do, than it is to blunder ahead and have to apologize for all the holes and tangled mess you made. (And yes, I've done the latter - with my kids. Dozens of times. Sighhh.) I'm learning to stop before it gets too far, to stop dead in my tracks and to admit my mistakes, go back to where I went wrong and start over.  This has so many applications: ground rules that don't work, parental overreactions, and making concessions that get out of hand, to name but a few. 

Stitches make rows; rows make a work of art
Getting blasé about the little things makes for bigger mistakes later on. Stitching every stitch, not skipping stitches unless instructed to, leaves holes that look like blemishes in the piece. Even such a small thing as forgetting to add a stitch at the end of a row (or a round) that is the same height as the rest of the row (or the round) can make the finished work look amateurish and crude. 

Little concessions made, boundaries not set (or not enforced) make way for bigger concessions and more broken rules (and hearts) later. It's so much better (even if it's harder) to pay attention to the little things. Such a simple matter as saying please and thank you (and meaning it) - or little courtesies such as turning off an appliance (or light) that you turned on - or a decision made to treat the other person's feelings with respect by not criticizing or belittling (even in jest) can make the world of difference in the fabric of our lives, and the lives of those with whom we are in relationship. 

Trust the designer and follow the pattern
On my first major project earlier this week, (I referred to this earlier) I looked at how my hat project was turning out, and I thought, "That's not right. It'll be too big." So, I started to narrow the work beyond what the pattern said. 

And it ended up being too small. 

Duh-h.

Lesson learned. All was not lost; I could give my finished hat to a child or a really petite adult. However, my plan to give it to my daughter (whose head is just as big as mine if not bigger, apparently) was foiled. 

Sometimes I just have to trust that the Designer really knows what He's doing and just concentrate on what I'm told to do next. Even if it doesn't make sense at the time. Even if I think it won't turn out right. The moment I start thinking I know better, that's when things take a turn for the worse. I can't control what someone else says, does, believes, or thinks. When I try to control it (or the other person), my effort blows up in my face. I've proven that time and time again. 

You'd think I would have learned by now. 

However, one thing I will say: Experience is a great teacher.

Why Self-Care Gets Such a Bad Rep

Recently, I had the opportunity to go hear someone speak on the topic of managing change. What it turned out to be was a sermon on self-care. It started off fine: "Let go of the things over which you have no control."

And then, it got ugly. 

If the presenter hadn't been so patronizing, and so obviously skewed to promoting her own agenda, I might have enjoyed the content of the presentation. However, having learned through experience and therapy to do the very things I heard this person talking about, I found the way it was put forth to be an insult to my intelligence. It cheapened all the valuable lessons I had learned in my healing process and reduced them to pithy little platitudes that implied that the reason why people were having a difficult time with change was that they had a bad attitude. She was, in essence, blaming the victim.

See the glass half-full." I couldn't believe my ears. "Choose to be happy. Smile. Be an optimist. Embrace change."

Excuse me? Even if change is ushered in at the hands of brutal people who care nothing about my situation but more about their career advancement, their political futures or their fat pensions? 

If I've learned anything in the last four years in recovery, it's that it is okay, and yes, even appropriate, to respond to injustice ... with anger. Anger motivates; anger - if harnessed properly - can produce positive change.  Need proof? The suffragettes, the Boston Tea Party, the American Revolutionary War, the Human Rights Declaration ... the list goes on.

The kind of change management proposed by this individual was the "lay down and accept change to the point of letting the machinery chew you up and spit you out." 

This is partly what gives self-care proponents a bad reputation. (The other side, equally extreme, is the "I'm going to take care of my self and the rest of you people don't matter, so just go jump in the lake" attitude - just as damaging.) 

The photo "Mirror" courtesy of Arvind Balaraman
at www.freedigitalphotos.net

The extreme that these folks go to, though, is passivity - something that the ancient Greeks called stoicism. It's a "Hakuna Matata" mentality - bad things happen and there's nothing you can do about it, so just throw up your hands and give up; tell yourself that it's not so terrible, and spout positive confessions that fly in the face of the truth. Never mind that it's wrong. Never mind that people are getting hurt. No, it's not your responsibility. Just sit down by the river, take deep breaths, and strum Kum Ba Yah. And don't forget to smile.

Even if your heart is breaking. 

The allure of this kind of thinking is that it perpetuates the illusion that all is well, and that you have some control over what is happening by denying its existence. Stick your head in the sand. Pretend there's no problem. 

Poppycock.

The problem is that there IS a problem. Denying it - whatever it is - is not going to make it go away. 

As a matter of fact, it's lying - to the self. And the body takes a really dim view of that kind of deception. It will exact payment: stress-related illnesses, for example. Cancer, irritable bowel syndrome, fibromyalgia, ulcers, chronic fatigue syndrome, migraines, high blood pressure, heart disease ... the list goes on.

Self-care involves letting go, yes. However, it also involves setting boundaries ... and enforcing them. It is about choosing to be happy, but it doesn't ignore or suppress emotions as they occur, and it is not ashamed to show them. There is a balance between the two extremes; that balance is self-care, and the extremes ... aren't. Self-care requires honesty with oneself, openness to explore new things, and willingness to do whatever it takes (even if it's hard) to be free. 

Why self-care gets such a bad reputation is that self-care is portrayed - and pursued - in a one-sided manner. When it's balanced, healing can take place. 

Growing Season

Earlier this week, I looked outside our picture window and I couldn't help it - a short, surprised, delighted gasp escaped my lips.

Some of the crocus were blooming - the ones closest to the cement step out front. The step is painted a forest green, so it absorbs the heat, and it is slightly warmer in that section of the flower garden. 

It surprises me every time. Winter lasts so very long in the Maritimes that I am startled at any sign of the S-word (you know, Spring - the word whispered in corners so as not to scare away the sunshine...) 

And amazed. 

The bulbs, first planted in the fall before the frost hits, have been asleep all winter, and now they wake from their slumber. Granted, they are the eternal optimists and usually, there is the false start to the spring season. The warm weather allows them to thrive, but it is only to followed by an ice-storm that destroys their delicate blooms. 

This time of year makes me pensive - I start thinking of new life, hope, and promise. 

Last year's blooms

This year, though, recent events (such as our daughter's surgery, as well as some other things) have started me thinking about the entirety of the growing season - from cultivation to planting to weeding to harvest. 

What strikes me as I think about this is that there is a definite structure to it all. The land needs to be worked, aerated. If it doesn't drain well, we mix mulch and other kinds of soil - maybe even sand - into the garden to prepare it to be planted (whether with bulbs, vegetable seed, rhizomes, or pre-started plants.) And then the REAL work begins.

The law of the harvest isn't ONLY that you reap what you sow. It goes a bit further than that. Once germinated, the young plant needs to be nurtured, given room to grow (weeding comes in here), and provided with food and water in just the right proportions for the harvest to be optimal. I've explored these analogies before, but today what jumped out at me was the one thing I hate almost as much as I hate weeding. 

Waiting. 

It seems interminable before the first shoots poke their heads up out of the ground. That in itself is exciting (for the gardener) - but then comes a period of waiting that seems to stretch on forever. The tension between what is and what shall be is frustrating at times. Often it is as much as three months before harvest can happen. Yet there is much to do during that time: hard work to keep the roots clear of encumbrances, working the soil frequently so that it is loose and provides room to grow, and sometimes even pest control. The task is not something one would seek out.

Some of my most unpleasant gardening memories as a child surround being coerced into weeding in my parents' large vegetable garden amongst clouds of mosquitoes and blackflies that seemed inexorably drawn to my tender skin, and walking between the rows of foot-high potato plants with a Coke bottle in one hand - a bottle which had been half-filled with kerosene. I'd pick up and plop squirming potato bugs - adults AND larvae - into the bottle to exterminate them (shudder) and all under a hot and punishing summer sun - a sun which would have been welcome at the beach. But alas, it was not to be.

Some things about the growing season aren't very comfortable, let's just put it like that. I'd so much rather skip to the end, reap the benefits right away. However, it doesn't work that way. Time has to pass, I must work, and I must wait for nature to take its course. I must also cooperate with it on its own terms; the ground will not give forth its bounty easily. It will always tend to slip back into a state of chaos. 

It needs maintenance, husbandry, tending, care.

How like the process of spiritual healing, of recovery, of parenting, of any process where there is an end result desired and it takes time and (grit teeth) patience to get there. 

Sometimes I do what I know is the right thing, and reality's thorns pop up and try to choke the life out of what good I am trying to do. That sucks... but it happens. So ... I do the next right thing. And I pray that a whole sequence of small decisions to live honestly, openly, and willingly, to set boundaries (and enforce them) when I need to, and to let go of things (and people, and outcomes) that I can't change, will eventually produce a bountiful crop. (Or a beautiful flower. Even if the flower doesn't believe she's beautiful.) 

"Do the next right thing," I have learned as I recover from codependency. 

Even when the choice to do the next right thing is hard. (And even when I do it wrong!!) And sometimes, even when doing the right thing makes someone else believe I'm doing the wrong thing, and that person makes a self-destructive choice based on that belief. Those are the hardest things for me to accept. 

The growing season happens one day at a time. My courage fails me when I focus on the endlessness of it, and I complain that it's taking forever for this thing or that thing to happen. 

But I can do only what I can do ... TODAY. Just this one day, I can make the next right choice. I might not be able to do it graciously, or perfectly - but I can live in the moment and do what I need to do to accept what is, and to take care of myself and the people I love, today. 

After all, this moment is all anyone has.

Going Back to Go Forward

Our daughter had her knee surgery yesterday afternoon. (See my previous posts). 

Leading up to the surgery, she was starting to be able to get around the house without her crutches, but she was still limping, and the knee was quite fragile. Yet - she managed. She convinced herself that she was fine, even though the doctor had put her off work for the duration. She was only "getting by."

Yesterday, she went from "getting by" back to being what she calls "a cripple." The feeling of helplessness is hard to escape - and for her, it is embarrassing to have to ask for help to do the simplest things. 

Yet, the damage to the knee was something that would not have healed correctly on its own. It needed that operation, even if it feels like a major set-back. 

And now, she deals with post-op pain and (what is worse) that feeling of needing to depend on others. She is housebound for almost the next two weeks. The loss of control over where she goes and what she does is quite real. Even the most simple and taken-for-granted movements are things for which she has to ask for help: getting up from lying down, keeping that leg free of encumbrances that would pull on the stitches - even under the splint! - so keeping it elevated slightly so it doesn't get caught in blankets or between sofa cushions!

The surgery - in the final analysis and if all goes as planned - will have made the difference between just "getting by" and "moving forward." 

This was a few months ago, shortly after the
initial injury. The current splint looks
similar, but is totally rigid.

However, it doesn't seem like that right now. 

In her more reasonable and lucid moments, she agrees that it will be good to walk without wincing, to be able to not only function but to thrive. 

But now - now is hard.

Her dilemma resonates with me on an emotional and spiritual level. I can relate quite a bit.

Her struggle reminds me that it is pretty easy to get used to living life with a limp - when I don't have to. 

Getting better, though, sometimes involves going back to the place where I was injured, submitting to what can be painful emotional surgery, and then, paying attention to my most simple actions and reactions.  Even if it means feeling some of those same feelings again: helplessness, anger, sadness, pain - relearning lessons I thought I'd learned before. It's embarrassing. It's unsettling. It's necessary.

It's necessary, if I want to heal in the right way, because even though it feels very awkward at first, those new behaviors are the pattern on which a whole new lifestyle is built. 

I don't want to just limp along for the rest of my life. 

It's awkward for me to ask for help - but I need help because I can't do this alone. It's awkward for me to say to someone with a problem, "No, I can't fix that." It's awkward for me to say how I feel when I am feeling it, to confront someone with something he or she might not want to hear. It's awkward for me to go back to where something has gone awry and correct it - set a boundary, enforce one, respect one, look after myself, and/or pray. Yet, it's so crucial. 

It's the only way for healing to do me any lasting good.

The Scar

I have a large, V-shaped scar under my left kneecap. 

I got it when I was two years old. I was out playing in our yard, a giggling, squirming bundle of blonde curls and mischief, and my brother - then 8 years old - was trying to catch me. 

He saw me headed toward the back of the house, where our parents kept a big steel drum for storing "hard garbage." There, they would put those huge apple-juice cans and other things like glass bottles that Mom couldn't use for canning. It was a dangerous place - strewn with things that had been tossed but didn't quite reach the tall steel drum - about three and a half feet tall. 

He called out to me, warning me not to go back there. I squealed and ran toward the forbidden territory; everything was a game. He ran after me - trying to reach me in time.

Just before he did - I fell.

Something broke my fall - but I wouldn't recommend it. There was an old vinegar jug made of glass that hadn't quite landed in the bin and had broken on the ground. Sharp shards and razor-sharp edges were everywhere. 

I landed on my knee, directly on a piece of that jug, on a portion of sharp glass that was sticking straight up from the bottom edge of the jug. 

I won't go into the gory details, but I ended up nearly becoming a permanent cripple that day. The glass very narrowly missed slicing my patellar tendon and doing damage to the inside of the joint. Amid several people holding a screaming child down, in that small two-year-old's knee were placed eighteen stitches: five internal and thirteen external. I was ordered to keep my leg straight and the rest of my family were recruited to enforce that order - until it healed. 

"Knee Replacement Surgery" photo
courtesy of olovedog
at www.freedigitalphotos.net

When the stitches came out, the doctor tested my knee joint to see if there had been any permanent damage to the tendons and ligaments. He breathed a sigh of relief when all was normal. 

I don't remember a thing about that incident. Matter of fact, I don't remember much of anything specific about my life before I was six years old, but that is a whole different story. 

I do know that I have had a scar from it ever since. As I grew, it did too. 

That's an interesting concept. 

Your scars grow at the same rate that you do. They show up bigger than they were when you were younger. However, keep in mind that they cover the same percentage of your body that they did when they first happened. And while some scars do fade - some don't. The deeper the original injury was, the more permanent the mark (and possibly the crater) it leaves behind. And some injuries (and even some surgeries) will cause degeneration to happen more quickly than normal (hence, early-onset osteoarthritis or degenerative disc disease), while others will leave no residual effects.

I have a theory that emotional injuries work the same way. 

The depth, extent, and frequency of emotional injury will determine the degree and the severity of any lasting effects from those injuries. And ... it will also determine the length of time it takes to heal from those hurts. 

Or to find a way to cope with what can't be changed. 

Having been emotionally damaged by various experiences, and having healed from many of them, I have a few pointers to give someone who is dealing with the after-effects of deep emotional scars. 

• Healing takes time. The deeper, the more intentional, and the more systematic the hurt, the longer it will take to recover from it.
• Emotions are NOT BAD. If you feel bad because something bad happened to you, that is a NORMAL response. It's supposed to feel that way. If you feel angry because you were wronged, that's normal too! Anger is a normal response to injustice!
• Pain is sometimes necessary in order to diagnose ... and to heal. Pain lets you know what area needs work. Seek to know the reasons for your pain, not just to be delivered from it. The former leads to healing; the latter to addiction and dysfunction.
• Healing happens best from the inside out. If something only scabs over on the outside, it will only be a matter of time before someone or something hits you in that place again - and it will hurt. A LOT. Healing from the inside first will allow the outside to take care of itself, and for the healing to be permanent.
• Talk about your feelings with someone you trust. Pray, talk through your feelings, get it out of you and don't hide from it.
• If you can manage it at all, keep a healing journal. Write about how you feel. Be honest with yourself at all times. The ultimate goal is to get better from the hurts of the past, to make restoration to those whom you have hurt as a result, and to free yourself from the killer known as resentment.
  
• Finally, to do all this, GET HELP. It's okay to ask for help from someone who is trustworthy and will not break (or who will even joke that they have the power to break) your confidentiality. Move past the shame and go see a counselor, attend a 12-step group, or talk to your pastor or spiritual advisor. Agree to accept his or her counsel and do not settle for activities that will only modify external behaviors or satisfy some desire for revenge.

One more thing about emotional scars. Like physical ones, they are what's left over after the hurt has healed. Emotional scars can be quite noticeable even after you have dealt with the root cause and it's no longer hurting you, but the presence of the scar doesn't mean that you haven't healed. It just means that you survived. 

Don't be ashamed of your scars; they can open conversations and give people hope, and help them to heal from their wounds too. That's the way it was designed to work.