Embracing Emotional Healing: The Power of Holding Space for Ourselves

Hands radiate a vibrant aura of multicolored energy against a deep purple background, symbolizing healing and spiritual power.

The Power of Holding Space for Myself

Knee drawn tight,

Scar reminds me of four years of the chain of command

not listening to me and then having to have surgery

on my knee to fix what they said didn't exist,

Pain instantly takes me back to those memories,

There are times when flashbacks come,

I feel like I am back there,

The weight of the world rests heavy,

anger curling like smoke from weary fingertips,

branches of grief intertwine with the roots of betrayal,

each heartbeat a reminder, a drum of rage,

echoing in corners where shadows linger,

whispers of a past that cling,

clinging like a child to lost dreams,

or like a lover to promises unkept.

In this tender cradle of pain,

I find the flicker of healing;

my hands, surging with energy,

extend towards the cracks that mar my spirit,

patient and gentle,

offering solace, a balm to the tumult,

I see you, whispers of my soul,

I am here for you,

a lighthouse in the encompassing fog.

Let the tears fall as they may,

let them carve paths through the dust of long-held silence,

a river of emotion,

flowing from depths uncharted,

washing away the grime of yesterday’s hurt,

in the act of surrender,

I learn to be the embrace

that holds the broken pieces of myself.

Strength does not shout;

it breathes in the stillness,

it knows the quiet power of understanding,

allowing emotions to rush forth,

a cascade, a waterfall spilling from the eyes,

each droplet a story, a fragment of what was,

and what could be again,

trusting the gentle flow

to bear witness to my truth.

In this sacred space,

I am both the healer and the healed,

creating a sanctuary within these trembling walls,

where patience blooms like wildflowers,

unfurling in sunlight,

hints of lavender and gold,

softening the edges of chaos

with threads woven from love.

I cradle my heart with tenderness,

as I hold myself,

wrap my arms around the fragile,

reveal the beauty in scars,

for each one is a testament,

a story etched by the hands of time,

reminders that I have journeyed,

that I am here,

that I am enough.

And in this holding,

I summon the strength of mountains,

quiet yet steadfast,

remind myself of the deep-rooted grace,

that flickers, spark by spark,

in the darkest of nights,

a flame fueled not by denial,

but by acceptance,

the courage to feel it all.

So here in this moment,

I sit,

with knee drawn tight,

yet heart wide open,

bearing witness to my own unraveling,

bathing in the light of my existence,

allowing all emotions to flow;

I weave together grief and rage,

anger and love,

and I rise,

knowing in my brokenness,

I am whole.