Heartspeak: Words for Struggling Souls

The internet overflows with messages promoting hope and joy, but words for struggling souls belong too. They are as much a part of our human experience as everything else. War, pain, loss, betrayal, and heartache live on our social media feeds and within our homes. If you’re newish here, my educational background includes professional counseling. I have a passion for the intersection of home and hearts. Suffering is painful, and suffering alone is too much. This collection of struggle and despair-themed words may inspire deeper reflection. Wherever you muddle through, I hope today is ripe with new reserves of strength and self-compassion. You’re growing. You’re getting there. This pain is fleeting like everything else.

This Struggle, These Pains Are Honorable

I have moved through grief for many months, and in these tender times, unhealed parts of me (wounds, resentment, fear) arise from the shadowed subconscious. The messy work of healing and hurting during uncertainty and change awaken the new, and it’s uncomfortable. Prayer, creation of art, music, connection with nature, and trustworthy companions help.

Still, this journey is my own. Loneliness comes as we long for a mirror.

Wherever you are on your healing path, I honor you. The work of recovery from trauma and loss is utterly sacred.

While it may not seem at all natural to regard brokenheartedness as evidence of courage, surely it is. To love, to love fully and authentically is to place yourself in harm’s way.

I find that inspirational wisdom and encouragement help me with language as I navigate waves of sadness that come. Why does emotional vocabulary often feels inadequate when heavy new weights press us closer to the depths?

These photos of tropical beauty and orchids blooming in a conservatory near our home were snapped during a brutal winter in 2018. I inhaled this beauty in a season of suffering and perseverance.

Here’s a book of essays I enjoyed. If you are experiencing low mood (not clinical depression or major depressive disorder) and long for clarifying language and poignant reflections, maybe the essays will help you feel joined in mysterious ways.

Reading stories of struggle and thoughtful fresh descriptions of despair help when despair comes and longing grows for deeper understanding.

For example, the words above remind me that as much as ideas of restoration appeal, it is often the case that wholemaking is the work of NEW CREATION.

Not a renovated metaphorical house, but a BRAND NEW one. Why does a fresh, all new, slate wiped clean stir up resistance for me? I guess I would prefer to keep my hands on the controls and tweak rather than build. Maybe my affinity for fixing up and restoration trump my desire to surrender and allow death before resurrection.

I long for relief from pain, recovery from illness, and restoration when desolation comes, yet I resist detachments. My strong will imagines wholeness resembles a lovely mosaic of healed wounds, of reconstructive surgery. I am slow to view wholeness as a hidden mystery.

I’m slow to trust that a hollowing in the dark can indeed be purposeful preparation for seeds to grow. My faith wobbles. My memory clouds.

I’ll compare my personal trauma and struggle to how others seem to cope. Shame rushes in. Echoes of “count your blessings” from my churchy past reverberate and stoke the shame.

But I can only journey as me. We have varying sensitivities, different experiences that colored our perceptions of safety, and fluctuating capacities to allow reality to be reality.

Which is why we need more self-compassion. Pointing fingers, comparison, judging ourselves harshly, directing violence inward…they pollute the very emotional atmosphere we are meant to breathe freely.

Do you think most folks are doing the best that they can? I do.

Are we all good inside? That’s tricky.

I’m learning that when someone feels dangerous to my safety, it’s okay to run the other direction.

James Finley, a poet/mystic/teacher I respect says:

“If we are absolutely grounded in the absolute love of God that protects us from nothing even as it sustains us in all things, then we can face all things with courage and tenderness and touch the hurting places in others and in ourselves with love.”

And to this I respond: good gracious, am I to somehow carry that paradox? I don’t know much of anything at all. What does such a high level of groundedness look like? My vulnerability can somehow sustain me through and through and through?

WOW.

Invitations to deep rest easily get shooed away in American culture. We are encouraged to push through, hustle, buy this to resolve it, numb the suffering, and fake it til you make it.

So many encouraging messages shared here today seem to welcome feelings of depression. I know that could be counterintuitive to hear.

So is the idea of cherishing yourself. But it isn’t self-absorbed to do so. Why not cooperate with the lifegiving processes happening beneath our consciousness?

When we welcome our wounds, acknowledge and accept them all the way through, we become a partner in the work of reconciliation.

I am encouraged by Parker Palmer’s work. Since he has suffered through seasons of darkness, he joins as an ally in ours.

Words of Understanding to Support Your Journey

Overcoming Overwhelm helped me clarify my values and become more aware of the patterns leading to overwhelm.

There’s a reason messages about braving the wilderness exist. Modern life has left us vulnerable in new ways.

Bravely living your one wild life looks different for each of us, and I continue to learn in fresh ways how it often comes with disappointing other people!

Seasons arrive where it’s time to set a new boundary or remove an old one. Values shift. The rearranging seems to propel us forward on the journey.

If your low mood shifts into depression or begins to concern you, reach out to your doctor right away, just as if it were physical illness.

My heart is with you, especially if you are struggling to get a foothold. I feel tender toward those with shaky faith who long for: an anchor, solid ground, and signs of hope.

Hang in there. What I continue to learn is we can still climb and progress while wobbly. Even full of fear, we can inch forward imperfectly and seek the grace for the impossible stuckness. You’re very brave. Though everything is fading and passing away, there’s an energy here in our midst remaining deathless, pure, and trustworthy as it heals us. Lean toward it.

Peace to you right where you are.

-michele

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