I think so many of us hold on to the fantasy that there is *something* that will fix us and free us from our pain. I wonder if we might do that because it’s easier to chase after the magical “cure” than come to grips with never being able to fully break free from it? I’m convinced, the more I grow the capacity to sit with my own pain (shout out to all trauma-informed therapists!), that the only way we experience peace in ourselves and the world is by having the courage to stop trying to outrun it. “The ache that remains” is no small thing. May you have a very gentle holiday season, Lisa.
You are so right -- and at no fault of our own. Growing that capacity is so hard in a world insistent on ignoring what is real, yet choosing to face it instead of keep running really is where we find our own wholeness. Thank you for sharing your reflection here, it is beautiful. Sending deep care. <3
This was absolutely beautiful and lovely. I am also an adoptee and trained psychotherapist ❤️ I have been following you for years but am slowly divesting from social media as well so was thrilled to find you here. Joining you in gently tending the aches and pangs that become resident teachers in our life, while also hosting the mystery and mystical dimensions of it all. Happy holidays! With love from Vermont, poney
Thank you for your reflection and for joining me in the tending/hosting -- it's always so nourishing to remember we're all moving through it in our own ways, and also moving through the mysterious and mystical parts, as well, in tandem, intertwined somehow. I so appreciate your words here. And the slow divesting from social media is so real, and not easy... I'm glad you're here. <3
Thank you so much for this week's letter and for sharing your journey with us. I am not an adoptee, but in other ways, I feel seen and nourished by your words. The pain that is left through failed infertility journey I know it will be for a lifetime. For so many years, I tried to "get over it", to find myself hurting even more. Because this is what the vast majority of the society wants us to do with our grief- to get over it- instead of living in it, wrestling with it, sitting with it, listening to it. When I do this, my grief is even more real but in a way that brings me freedom. Wishing you warmth this holiday season. Thank you again for such kind truths, especially during this season.
I am so glad this connected with you, that it weaved into your own story in some small way. I think there is a widespread experience of trying to "get over" things we simply aren't meant to get over. And it is such an act of care to feel what is real, even when it isn't always easy -- knowing we can step away and back when we need to. Thank you for sharing <3
I need this today - exactly these words and precious reminders. Thank you for sharing so honestly and gingerly, and reminding us that we don’t have to carry it all. That we can let others carry it for us and we can set it down from time to time. Gratitude for you ❤️
So touching. As your words often do, they brought me to tears. Some things in my life right now are unfixable- financial challenges that will hopefully be fixed at some point in the not too distant future as well as deeper wounds that are unlikely to ever fully heal.
I may share some or perhaps even all of your words in next week’s issue of my “Changing Lives” newsletter. I think it’s important to balance my message that we can change our lives and help others change theirs with an acknowledgment that we also need to love ourselves just as we are and accept the reality that there are some things we can’t change.
Being with the unfixable is no small feat -- it is an act of courage to practice, even when we can't do it all the time. Thank you for sharing your reflections here.
“And when we relate to our pain differently, our pain doesn’t hurt so much. And sometimes, this is all we can hope for. And sometimes, we slowly find it’s enough. We find that we can live a full, whole life in spite of it.“
Thank you. It’s so tempting to minimize or rush to gratitude to cover old wounds over. Acknowledging my pain and carrying it gently as a part of me (but not all of me) is such a humanizing, full, spacious way to treat myself. I love the shift in perspective.
And thank you for the links! I always find helpful and interesting gems from what you share. 💖
It is so so so tempting. I try to thank myself when I notice rushing to gratitude -- thank myself for trying to avoid hurt. It comes from a place of compassion. Yet that shift in perspective is what has brought so much real, true compassion to my life, to how I relate to it all. Thank you for sharing your reflection here. And I am so glad you enjoy the links! They always feel somewhat random but I love curating them each week. <3
Thank you, Lisa. Much of this reminded me of the art of "kintsugi" (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kintsugi), where they repair pottery with gold. Rather than discarding the broken pottery, the breaks are made visible and made beautiful and integrated into the whole of the piece
Thank you for your beautiful words, they felt particularly nourishing this week! I especially resonated with the sentence “We can’t always fix everything that hurts, but we can learn to be with it in a way that hurts a little less.” - what a beautiful and tender reminder, how much truth it holds. I often find myself wanting to just pretend the pain away, but being with it feels so much better than running from it, and remembering the beauty I can find amidst the messiness and chaos makes it all so worth it. Sending you so much love🫶🏻✨
I discovered you and this piece today, and I needed it. Over the course of my life, I have made peace with my pain and grief, and when they surface I do try to be gentle with them and myself. I have this fear that my son is about to experience something unfixable and if that happens, I must be strong for him and help him learn to live with it. Thank you for your words. May your holidays be peaceful and gentle.
I’ve always resonated with your beautiful writing Lisa, yet this hit in an unexpected way. I’m not an adoptee, but these words feel like a balm as a stepparent who is learning to dance with the grief that step parenting entails. Lately I’ve been struggling to find the words to explain how the grief feels and you seem to have captured it so wonderfully for my own experience. Thank you for putting your writing out there and (unintentionally) helping me on my own journey 🤍
Thank you for your wise words. Walking through life with a pain that will always be there is exhausting but learning to accept that fact and learning to be kind to it is certainly helping. This is down to your teaching, thank you.
“The constant urge to “just be grateful” despite the swirl of complexity and pain of relinquishment always floating right below the facade.” — this statement hits home, especially due to the wellness community declaring that gratefulness is all we need to heal and move forward; when in all reality, there are multiples realities and humans can be simple in the heart and complex in the mind.
“The thing is, I relate to that pain differently now. I relate to myself differently now. That is what has shifted everything, even when not everything has changed. Even when so much still lingers. Even when the ache remains.” — uuf, this right here. The internal shift that begins to happen.
“ I don’t need to act like I’m unfazed, or puff up gratitude that isn’t there, or perform a perfectly healed conclusion to a messy life” — this is humanly brilliant.
“Some of our experiences and wounds will never get totally resolved, because our identity will never exist without them.” — 100% ✨
I think so many of us hold on to the fantasy that there is *something* that will fix us and free us from our pain. I wonder if we might do that because it’s easier to chase after the magical “cure” than come to grips with never being able to fully break free from it? I’m convinced, the more I grow the capacity to sit with my own pain (shout out to all trauma-informed therapists!), that the only way we experience peace in ourselves and the world is by having the courage to stop trying to outrun it. “The ache that remains” is no small thing. May you have a very gentle holiday season, Lisa.
You are so right -- and at no fault of our own. Growing that capacity is so hard in a world insistent on ignoring what is real, yet choosing to face it instead of keep running really is where we find our own wholeness. Thank you for sharing your reflection here, it is beautiful. Sending deep care. <3
This was absolutely beautiful and lovely. I am also an adoptee and trained psychotherapist ❤️ I have been following you for years but am slowly divesting from social media as well so was thrilled to find you here. Joining you in gently tending the aches and pangs that become resident teachers in our life, while also hosting the mystery and mystical dimensions of it all. Happy holidays! With love from Vermont, poney
Thank you for your reflection and for joining me in the tending/hosting -- it's always so nourishing to remember we're all moving through it in our own ways, and also moving through the mysterious and mystical parts, as well, in tandem, intertwined somehow. I so appreciate your words here. And the slow divesting from social media is so real, and not easy... I'm glad you're here. <3
Mmmm amen 🙏🏻 with you!
Thank you so much for this week's letter and for sharing your journey with us. I am not an adoptee, but in other ways, I feel seen and nourished by your words. The pain that is left through failed infertility journey I know it will be for a lifetime. For so many years, I tried to "get over it", to find myself hurting even more. Because this is what the vast majority of the society wants us to do with our grief- to get over it- instead of living in it, wrestling with it, sitting with it, listening to it. When I do this, my grief is even more real but in a way that brings me freedom. Wishing you warmth this holiday season. Thank you again for such kind truths, especially during this season.
I am so glad this connected with you, that it weaved into your own story in some small way. I think there is a widespread experience of trying to "get over" things we simply aren't meant to get over. And it is such an act of care to feel what is real, even when it isn't always easy -- knowing we can step away and back when we need to. Thank you for sharing <3
Thanks so much for this Lisa. Brought me to tears and is so relevant for something I'm navigating and trying to articulate.
Sending you so much love. Thank you for all you share of yourself.
I need this today - exactly these words and precious reminders. Thank you for sharing so honestly and gingerly, and reminding us that we don’t have to carry it all. That we can let others carry it for us and we can set it down from time to time. Gratitude for you ❤️
I am so grateful it reached you when you needed it. Thank you for being here <3
So touching. As your words often do, they brought me to tears. Some things in my life right now are unfixable- financial challenges that will hopefully be fixed at some point in the not too distant future as well as deeper wounds that are unlikely to ever fully heal.
I may share some or perhaps even all of your words in next week’s issue of my “Changing Lives” newsletter. I think it’s important to balance my message that we can change our lives and help others change theirs with an acknowledgment that we also need to love ourselves just as we are and accept the reality that there are some things we can’t change.
Being with the unfixable is no small feat -- it is an act of courage to practice, even when we can't do it all the time. Thank you for sharing your reflections here.
“And when we relate to our pain differently, our pain doesn’t hurt so much. And sometimes, this is all we can hope for. And sometimes, we slowly find it’s enough. We find that we can live a full, whole life in spite of it.“
Thank you. It’s so tempting to minimize or rush to gratitude to cover old wounds over. Acknowledging my pain and carrying it gently as a part of me (but not all of me) is such a humanizing, full, spacious way to treat myself. I love the shift in perspective.
And thank you for the links! I always find helpful and interesting gems from what you share. 💖
It is so so so tempting. I try to thank myself when I notice rushing to gratitude -- thank myself for trying to avoid hurt. It comes from a place of compassion. Yet that shift in perspective is what has brought so much real, true compassion to my life, to how I relate to it all. Thank you for sharing your reflection here. And I am so glad you enjoy the links! They always feel somewhat random but I love curating them each week. <3
Thank you, Lisa. Much of this reminded me of the art of "kintsugi" (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kintsugi), where they repair pottery with gold. Rather than discarding the broken pottery, the breaks are made visible and made beautiful and integrated into the whole of the piece
I love the concept of Kintsugi -- it is really touching and liberating. Thank you for reminding me of it!
Love this Lisa 💛 Needed these reminders in the midst of my birthday and holiday months
Thank you for reading <3
All of this resonates so much. Thank you.
Really glad it reached you -- thank you for being here. 🤍
Thank you for your beautiful words, they felt particularly nourishing this week! I especially resonated with the sentence “We can’t always fix everything that hurts, but we can learn to be with it in a way that hurts a little less.” - what a beautiful and tender reminder, how much truth it holds. I often find myself wanting to just pretend the pain away, but being with it feels so much better than running from it, and remembering the beauty I can find amidst the messiness and chaos makes it all so worth it. Sending you so much love🫶🏻✨
I am so glad these words connected with you -- and I love your reflection here. Thank you for your presence here as always <3
I discovered you and this piece today, and I needed it. Over the course of my life, I have made peace with my pain and grief, and when they surface I do try to be gentle with them and myself. I have this fear that my son is about to experience something unfixable and if that happens, I must be strong for him and help him learn to live with it. Thank you for your words. May your holidays be peaceful and gentle.
I’ve always resonated with your beautiful writing Lisa, yet this hit in an unexpected way. I’m not an adoptee, but these words feel like a balm as a stepparent who is learning to dance with the grief that step parenting entails. Lately I’ve been struggling to find the words to explain how the grief feels and you seem to have captured it so wonderfully for my own experience. Thank you for putting your writing out there and (unintentionally) helping me on my own journey 🤍
thank you. 🙏
Thank you for your wise words. Walking through life with a pain that will always be there is exhausting but learning to accept that fact and learning to be kind to it is certainly helping. This is down to your teaching, thank you.
“The constant urge to “just be grateful” despite the swirl of complexity and pain of relinquishment always floating right below the facade.” — this statement hits home, especially due to the wellness community declaring that gratefulness is all we need to heal and move forward; when in all reality, there are multiples realities and humans can be simple in the heart and complex in the mind.
“The thing is, I relate to that pain differently now. I relate to myself differently now. That is what has shifted everything, even when not everything has changed. Even when so much still lingers. Even when the ache remains.” — uuf, this right here. The internal shift that begins to happen.
“ I don’t need to act like I’m unfazed, or puff up gratitude that isn’t there, or perform a perfectly healed conclusion to a messy life” — this is humanly brilliant.
“Some of our experiences and wounds will never get totally resolved, because our identity will never exist without them.” — 100% ✨
Thank you for sharing. 🫶🏼