Have you ever wondered why something that happened twenty, thirty or even forty years ago can still hurt?

The event is over.

The people may no longer be part of your life.

Your circumstances may have completely changed.

You may even tell yourself:

"That was years ago. I should be over it by now."

And yet...

Something happens.

Someone says the wrong thing.

You feel rejected.

You feel criticised.

You feel unseen.

And suddenly that old pain comes rushing back.

Why?

Because time passing and healing are not necessarily the same thing.

Sometimes we don't leave our pain behind.

Sometimes we simply become very good at carrying it.

Most of us were never taught what to do with difficult emotions.

Think about it.

Who taught you how to sit with anger?

Who showed you how to understand shame?

Who taught you what to do when you felt rejected?

Who explained how to move through fear without becoming consumed by it?

Who showed you how to process emotional pain lovingly?

For many of us, nobody did.

Instead, we learned to get on with life.

"Don't cry."

"Be strong."

"Get over it."

"Stop being so sensitive."

"It's in the past."

So we pushed our feelings down.

We distracted ourselves.

We got busy.

We went back to work.

We looked after everyone else.

And eventually we convinced ourselves that because we weren't thinking about the experience anymore...

we had healed it.

But perhaps we had simply learned how to carry it.

I want you to imagine something.

Every time you experience something painful, imagine a little brick being created.

Maybe the brick is anger.

Maybe it's shame.

Maybe it's guilt.

Maybe it's fear.

Maybe it's sadness.

Maybe it's the belief:

"I'm not good enough."

One brick probably doesn't feel very heavy.

You can carry it.

So you do.

Then something else happens.

Another brick.

And another.

And another.

Imagine a child who is repeatedly criticised.

The first time, perhaps they feel hurt.

Another brick.

The next time, perhaps they feel embarrassed.

Another brick.

Then they begin wondering whether the criticism is true.

"Maybe there really is something wrong with me."

Another brick.

Years pass.

The child grows up.

But if those experiences are never revisited with understanding and compassion, some of those old beliefs and emotional responses may continue travelling with them.

And eventually...

the weight can feel enormous.

Here's the interesting thing about carrying something for a very long time.

Eventually, it can begin to feel normal.

Imagine carrying a heavy backpack every single day for twenty years.

At first, you'd notice the weight constantly.

But eventually you'd learn how to move around with it.

You'd adjust your posture.

You'd compensate.

You'd find ways to function.

You might even forget how it felt to walk without it.

Emotionally, we can do something similar.

We become accustomed to being guarded.

We become accustomed to doubting ourselves.

We become accustomed to people-pleasing.

We become accustomed to expecting rejection.

We become accustomed to holding everything together.

We simply call it:

"That's just who I am."

But is it?

Or is that who you learned to become while carrying everything you've been through?

There's another analogy I love.

Make a fist.

Go on.

Clench your hand as tightly as you comfortably can.

Notice what happens.

The muscles tighten.

Your hand becomes tense.

Your arm may begin to feel the effort.

Now imagine holding that fist for an hour.

A day.

A year.

Thirty years.

Eventually, you'd desperately want to release it.

Of course, our emotional experiences aren't literally a clenched fist, but the analogy helps us understand something important.

Holding on requires energy.

Being constantly guarded requires energy.

Trying not to feel requires energy.

Pretending something doesn't hurt requires energy.

Living your life constantly preparing yourself for rejection, criticism, or disappointment requires energy.

No wonder we sometimes feel exhausted.

Imagine you have a bruise on your arm.

Someone gently touches it without knowing it's there.

You jump.

"Ouch!"

They might be confused.

They barely touched you.

But they're not feeling the bruise underneath.

Emotionally, this happens all the time.

Someone makes a comment.

Someone forgets to call.

Someone disagrees with us.

Someone doesn't invite us.

Someone questions something we've done.

And suddenly our reaction feels enormous.

Sometimes we're not only responding to what happened today.

Today's experience may have touched yesterday's bruise.

That's why our triggers can become such powerful teachers.

They show us where something may still be tender.

This is where we can begin doing something differently.

Instead of saying:

"Why am I still like this?"

What if you asked:

"What is hurting?"

Instead of:

"I shouldn't feel this way."

What if you said:

"Something inside me needs my attention."

Instead of pushing the feeling down again...

what if you became curious?

There may be anger there.

Let it speak.

There may be sadness there.

Let it be acknowledged.

There may be fear there.

Sit beside it.

There may be shame there.

Bring it into the light.

Because perhaps these emotions aren't trying to ruin your life.

Perhaps they're simply parts of your experience that have never been given the love and understanding they needed.

Sometimes when people begin healing, they want everything gone immediately.

"How do I let this go?"

"How do I get rid of this anger?"

"How do I stop feeling this?"

But perhaps healing isn't about throwing everything away as quickly as possible.

Perhaps first...

we need to understand what we're carrying.

Pick up one brick.

Look at it.

"Where did this come from?"

"When did I first begin feeling this?"

"What did I believe about myself because of what happened?"

"Do I still believe that today?"

And then perhaps something begins to soften.

Not because you're forcing yourself to let go.

But because you finally understand what you've been holding.

Your pain has a story.

Your anger has a story.

Your fear has a story.

Your shame has a story.

And underneath so many of those stories is simply a human being who experienced something they didn't know how to process at the time.

That person doesn't need your judgment.

They need your love.

Perhaps healing is simply the process of returning to those places within ourselves...

one brick at a time...

and saying:

"I'm ready to look at this now."

Because what happened may always be part of your story.

But the weight of it doesn't have to be something you carry forever.

Time is wonderful.

But time alone doesn't necessarily change the meaning we've attached to an experience.

We can spend decades carrying anger, guilt, shame, fear and beliefs about ourselves without ever questioning why they're still there.

And perhaps the invitation isn't to force those feelings away.

It's to become curious about them.

To understand them.

To bring compassion to the person you were when they were created.

And slowly, gently...

to begin putting down the bricks you no longer need to carry.

You don't have to put them all down today.

Perhaps one is enough.

Take a quiet moment and imagine you're carrying a backpack filled with all the emotional bricks you've collected throughout your life.

Don't try to empty it.

Just reach inside and choose one.

Perhaps it's anger.

Fear.

Shame.

Guilt.

Rejection.

Unworthiness.

Or something completely different.

Then gently ask yourself:

"When did I begin carrying this?"

And then:

"What did I come to believe about myself because of what happened?"

Finally, ask:

"Do I still need to carry this belief today?"

You don't need to force an answer.

Simply allow the question to sit with you.

Because sometimes letting go doesn't begin when we decide to get rid of something.

It begins when we finally become willing to understand why we've been carrying it.