They say that time heals all wounds, but that always sounds like a load of hooey to me. Time heals all wounds? Yeah, right. Then why is time the thing that gets everyone in the end?
So when a hurt is new and fresh, sometimes I’ll have that old voice creep into my head, saying things like “time heals all wounds” or “this too shall pass.”
And what do I do? I scoff. I ignore it. Tell myself that the pain will never end. That whatever is bothering me will always hurt me this much. That the pain will always be this fresh.
I’ll never get over it. Those ideas are nonsense.
And while I’m focused on the pain — on whatever is bothering me — I’m convinced that it’ll never end.
Inevitably, I get distracted by something else. Sometimes I am unlucky and it’s something else that’s inconvenient — even something else that hurts just as badly, but is a bit more fresh. Other times I’m fortunate, and something good or entertaining happens to distract me. Either way, I lose the old plot. And it’s on to something new.
And it’s then, when my back is turned, when my attention is directed toward something else, that time creeps in and works its magic. It’s so stealthy I don’t even register it. In fact, there will be many times that I suddenly remember this old pain — and in that moment it feels fresh and raw again and those moments serve to reinforce what I’d declared so confidently before — that time is useless. That I’ll always feel like shit about this or that.
But the funny thing is that there comes a point where it eventually turns, when the sting begins to leave the old event, and the memories of that pain become less frequent and less painful, not stopping suddenly, but trailing off… like someone who has forgotten what they wanted to say when it was their turn to speak.
I never think the pain will fade, but then it does. It always takes much longer than I want it to. And the fade is never quite as complete as I would like. But it does.