Does time really heal all wounds?
Sort of.
I’m calling bullshit on one of the greeting card industry’s favorite phrases. You’ve lost a loved one? Time heals all wounds. You’ve ended a significant relationship? Time heals all wounds. You’re recovering from a traumatic event or grieving a significant loss? Time heals all wounds.
I love how simple and full of hope that is. I’d love it more if it were true. Or at least more completely true.
Time, most definitely, plays a key role in healing, but it isn’t the unconditional, magical potion the cliché implies it is. There’s no fairy dust that whisks our healing forward at the stroke of midnight on every anniversary of the loss or traumatic event. Time is an ingredient in the healing stew. It’s not the secret sauce. What time really does is put distance between you and the event. What you do with that distance is where the real gift of time lies.
If you chose to do the hard work of healing, then time is an ally. I’m not naïve, and I’m not sugar coating anything. The hard work of healing is gut wrenching and exhausting, frightening and maddening. It’s also doable and survivable and live giving. There’s no recipe for doing that hard work. It looks a million different ways, and the only “right” way to heal is the way that works for you.
In that spirit, here’s a list of things that many people say have helped them heal. There are no pearls of exotic wisdom here, and some of the ideas may resonate with you while others won’t. All the suggestions come down to taking care of your body, heart, mind, and soul. And, yes, I’m a firm believer that they’re all connected, especially when you’re on a healing journey. As a testament to that, you’ll notice that some of the same things show up in multiple categories of the list below.
Taking care of the body
Eat nutritious foods
Drink plenty of water
Get adequate sleep (I know this sometimes feels impossible when troubling thoughts are keeping you up, but it’s important to do what you can to practice good sleep hygiene.)
Exercise (in nature if possible)
Get a haircut, take regular showers, and brush your teeth (This may sound trivial but feeling like you look good really does affect your mental and emotional health.)
Taking care of the heart
Cry
Scream and curse
Talk about the pain
Write about the pain
Summon the courage to sit with the pain rather than running from it
Read about loss, and love, and hurt, and hope
Develop rituals or micro-rituals that honor your love and your loss
Respect and accept your comfort zone while still gently challenging yourself to expand that zone
Continue to give and receive love even with a broken heart
Taking care of the mind
Stay mentally engaged in something (work, hobbies, current events)
When necessary (which, especially in the beginning of a healing journey could be fairly frequently) engage in healthy distractions (movies, TV, funny books, hobbies)
Find a therapist you can trust who comes from a place of love and respects your pain
Taking care of the soul
Explore your spirituality (notice I didn’t say religion, but if you’re a religious person, then by all means explore your faith’s healing messages)
Look for beauty (in nature and in people)
Look for meaning and purpose, not despite your pain, but because of it
I’m sure you could add a boatload of avenues and experiments you’ve tried along your journey. The common thread in all of them is that they don’t and can’t help overnight. None of them are quick fixes. Healing from hurt and loss isn’t a sprint, it’s a marathon. And that’s the kernel of truth in the greeting card cliché.
What if you choose to avoid doing the work? What if you try to ignore or deny your pain or try to push it away? Then I can almost promise you time will definitely not be on your side. The hard truth is that you cannot NOT do the work of grief and expect to “heal.” It just doesn’t work that way. You can avoid doing the work. You can delay it. But I firmly believe making that choice locks you in a place of hurt and pain. It imprisons you in time.
There’s one more aspect of the cliché that needs to be fact checked; the way you define “healing.” If you think healing means being restored to the person you were before the loss or traumatic event, the sad reality is that there will never be enough time. Nothing, and no amount of time, can make you who you were before. You’ve been forever changed. Period. Short of turning back the clock to before the event, nothing can alter that fact.
If, on the other hand, you think “healing” means learning to live in your new reality, learning to carry your hurt with grace, and learning to find meaning after your experience, than time really is your ally. Time and hard work, that is.
About the author
Dave Wyner is a Licensed Professional Counselor, National Certified Counselor, Certified Clinical Trauma Professional, and Certified Grief Counseling Specialist with a practice in Louisville, Colorado called A Path Forward Counseling. He’s passionate about helping people rebuild their lives and thrive again after painful losses or traumatic experiences. His abiding desire is to help people affected by trauma and grief tap into their own strength, courage, and resilience in order to find meaning and purpose in their lives. In addition to traditional office-based counseling, he also offers equine-assisted psychotherapy with a herd of six horses at a small, private ranch. In his spare time, Dave enjoys hiking the beautiful Front Range with his wife and dog, nature photography, and catering to the two cats who graciously allow him to live in their house.