There’s so much genuine healing that can come from disclosure and having our pain heard and held—by friends, and therapists, and healers (all interchangeable terms). The witnessing helps us move forward.


Sometimes, we spend so much energy therapizing and “working with it” that the hurt can become its own character in our life. “The thing that happened” follows us to our new relationships, and shows up in our social media posts, and every time we talk about our future, there’s “the thing that happened” distracting us from what’s possible. 

When we orient our life around a traumatic event, we double the impact.


There comes a time, and it’s usually sooner than we’d like to admit, that we need to stop retelling the pain story.

Every time we talk about the painful event… in the same way… especially if it’s in commiseration, we energize the trauma vibration. We poke at the wound we’re supposedly trying to heal.

I’m not suggesting that we never talk about our past again (though that’s not an entirely bad idea). But what if we:

Only speak about our pain with the intention to heal it.

I’m only talking about the painful event if it’s to create more healing. (Not to blame someone, or to get attention, or to be more “loved.”)

We bring a sacredness to the reaccounting. We regard the sharing of our pain as an important event. We can be poetic or a hot mess. It doesn’t matter what we say, it’s why we say it, and who we say it to.

If you need to let someone know about a painful situation, maybe try to tell the story in a different way. Maybe we can share fewer details. Maybe we tell it from a different point of view.

And maybe… eventually we won’t be talking about it much at all. And in direct proportion to that, the pain memory stops looping in our minds. And we… heal. For reals.

This is hard work. The ego-mind loves a good replay and kvetch. It takes a lot of Love to be in Loving Silence or refrain. The best medicine is often rest. Rest the story, rest the mind, and rest in Love.

All my Love to you,