when enough is enough

A friend and I met for dinner several months ago, and as part of our conversation she mentioned an artist and her work that she happened to see in a local museum.  The artist was in her 70s and her work was primarily focused on traumatic events that occurred during her childhood.  My friend discussed the interview of this artist and her work, and while she discussed the details, I could not help thinking, "Wow, that is a long time to keep remembering the hurts of the long ago past, and this artist is in her 70s and still thinking about it!?"


Just when is enough, enough?


Ironically, at the time, I had been going through a grieving process of my own: the loss of four very close friends, two of whom had betrayed me and had been in collusion against me.  It was shocking and deeply hurtful.  Almost three years had passed since the whole episode imploded and I was left alone holding the bloody bits and pieces.  And I was still furious.  Rage, discouragement, depression, desire for revenge, victimization... all these thoughts and more kept lurking in the back of my mind. "Justice!  Where is the justice?!" was a nightly mantra while ruminating over past hurts.


The whole situation with those former friends was completely over and done. There was no chance whatsoever of reconciliation.  All the bridges had been burned long ago.  But somehow, it seemed as though by reliving the episodes over and over again, that vindication would come, and peace and closure could then ensue.  


NO. It never did.




I don't mean in any way to disregard the pain that this woman suffered.  And obviously, childhood traumas can be very damaging because children don't always have the tools to be able to process what happened. Heck, emotional and physical trauma at any age can be very difficult.  But, what saddened me initially, was that this woman who has lived more than 70 years on this earth still goes back and back and back to the painful past. Surely with each work, it must bring those past hurts alive again in her memory.  It seems so tragic and almost wasteful. To define her life by her traumatic childhood somehow dampens the beauty and joy that she could potentially find in her wonderful Present. 


The artist and I were basically doing the same thing.


Her life was a definite sign to me that enough was enough.




OMNIA VINCIT AMOR
amara

© 2010 amara/aag musings of a trauma rad