You can find a little about a lot on Alison Tedford’s blog.
You probably have read her, at Sparkly Shoes and Sweat Drops. I don’t like to refer to some bloggers as big time, because it implies the rest of us are small potatoes. Alison, though … she’s in that rare air. She raises kids, questions and eyebrows on her site. It’s slick-looking, well-written and widely acclaimed.
Nifty sites and bang-up graphics and droves of followers mean nothing without a message.
Alison delivers. Her words on motherhood, mental health and moving your body will resonate with so many of you. Today, she’s a guest blogger on the CD. I gave Alison a prompt from a the list of 15 Cheryl Strayed, author of Wild, gave on the li.st app. Alison’s prompt: Write about how you found your way back.
Anyone who has found themselves on a journey back to themselves or has even detected the slightest shift right under themselves can find meaning in Alison’s words today. She writes of healing and happiness and the fallacy of dispelling pain altogether. It’s an honor to have her here today.
Please give Alison a warm CD welcome, and be sure to check out Sparkly Shoes and Sweat Drops.
How I Found My Way Back
They say time heals all wounds. I don’t know who “they” are, or why we should believe them, but that’s what they say. Whoever they are, I’m not one to cling to platitudes short enough to fit on a fridge magnet. I have my reasons.
I’ve learned a one sized fits all solution is rarely a good idea. It’s a misnomer that describes articles of clothing that are too stingy to accommodate the dimensions of most humans but attractive enough to inspire optimism. Could “Time heals all wounds” really contain the oozings of a tired, heavy heart? Or do we rely on it with the blind optimism of a mail order leggings enthusiast?
Do we even know what we need? Or are we just fumbling? We are looking for healing like hungry people at a grocery store, grabbing at things we hope will satisfy and find we have purchased in excess with a high interest emotional credit card. Maybe healing is really more than we need.
Maybe it’s enough for it to be faded from memory, yellowed like old love letters we can no longer read but cling to as evidence that something momentous transpired.
Do we need to be healed to be happy? Or is it enough to be able to trace a lingering finger along the edges of our scars, no longer able to name the thing that caused it? Maybe it’s enough for it to be faded from memory, yellowed like old love letters we can no longer read but cling to as evidence that something momentous transpired. We can’t fill in all the details, but it’s enough to know it happened and it meant something once upon a time.
I don’t think it needs to heal seamlessly into what once was. The jagged edges are what make my ragged, well-traveled heart interesting. The ridges of the scars that remain form a topographical map of the journey I’ve weathered.
“Time heals all wounds” they say, but in seeking the perfection that comes from pain’s disappearance, we are apt to lose our way. I don’t know who “they” are, but I know when I’m lost I need a map – that’s how I find my way back. I’m thankful it has not healed so much that I can’t retrace my steps through the bumpy outline of everything that spurred me on in search of brighter days.
I explore those peaks and valleys with trembling fingers holding my heart tightly, the negative space forming one of those stickers that proclaims, “You are here.” I AM here. And that’s how I found my way back.”