The Test

The version of me that is post burned up messages, that is post wounded little boy stuck in the well, and that comforts that inner little boy myself rather than giving in to his tantrums is undergoing my first major test today. I knew this day would come, of course. I never expected those wounds would magically disappear the second I reached them to start healing them. And a path to healing that didn't allow and couldn't withstand tests would be no true path to healing at all. 

I'm holding my own. I started to end that sentence with "so far," but that would just be a linguistic trick to let myself off the hook if I were to cave later. As I have no intention of caving later, I will simply say that I am holding my own. 

Getting through a real child's real tantrums was a walk in the park compared to this. Still, the results with a real child were absolutely worth the effort and unpleasantness, and I trust that the results with a child as a psychological metaphor will be worth it too. More so, I dare say. And I am, at last, done with being a grown man too often ruled by the tantrums of a hurt and frightened little boy. 

So as upset as he may be, I've got him. And he's okay. I'm okay.