Lady Chatterley's Lover

There is a quote from " Lady Chatterley's Lover " that cuts to the bone every time I read it : " And dimly she realized one of the great laws of the human soul : that when the emotional soul receives a wounding shock, which does not kill the body, the soul seems to recover as the body recovers. But this is only appearance. It is really only the mechanism of the reassumed habit. Slowly, slowly the wound to the soul begins to make itself felt, like a bruise, which only slowly deepens its terrible ache, till it fills all the psyche. And when we think we have recovered and forgotten, it is then that the terrible after-effects have to be encountered at their worst. " For each of us, that wounding shock to the soul is different and individual, depending on our life story. For some, it is the loss of a very young child, and the ache of regret and guilt that won't go away. For another person, it is the tragic illness at much too young an age of a loved one that took away the hope and dream of a life together. For yet another person, it is the wound and shock of betrayal , for someone else,the ache that never ends at the loss of country, due to war or other dire circumstances. Sometimes, it is the pain of  being in relationships that slowly kill the heart and soul and the inability to walk away from them, due to lack of resources or deep insecurity. We all walk around wounded, to varying degrees. D.H. Lawrence's profound insight into this most enigmatic reality of the human condition is worded exquisitely and so mercilessly accurate. They shed light on my own circumstances, and in spite of the clinical coldness of the observation, there is an undertone of mercy in them. My psychic wound is twofold, one directly related to a mother who forever pretended to care about me, the other tied to being in a country too vast to hold my soul's bruised roots. And yet, again, I do not feel sorry for myself. I am too analytical and rational in spite of my passions, to give in to that hypnotic drug. I am fascinated by the predicament, and the process I laboriously pursue to break free of the clutches of isolation this bruised soul of mine has put me in. My body has recovered from all the family trauma. The insomnia is gone, so is the perpetual monologue of rage, the aches and pains in back , neck and shoulders. So is the OCD, the nausea and anxiety. But what is left, perhaps to stay, is the silence, the absence, the cemetery like quiet that is never far away on days I feel insecure and disconnected. But, I can sing again, and hum, and laugh, and yes, cry, all of which froze in me for almost 7 years. I have hope again. That does not mean it is still not hard, but I have more good days than sad or bad. I realize that I am at the point now where I have to deal with the terrible after-effects of the wound to my soul. But I am ready to accept that and work through it. There was a time I thought my pain and wound were unique. Perhaps in circumstances, but not in scope. I am just one of many, many people who were dealt a nasty blow. A lot are dealt kinder cards, and a lot are dealt far worse. Sharing is becoming a way to re-connect. The fact that D.H. Lawrence's words ring so true and run so deep a hundred years later, is proof that the human condition has a stubborn streak in it regardless of country or origin, or time reference. That realization could be cause for concern, and it is, but I also find hope in it. If heartache and sorrow can isolate, it can also bring us together in empathy and enhanced strength. I have no idea of knowing for sure if I will succeed in breaking the wall of isolation I valiantly struggle against, but I will tear at it, each and every day, one stubborn mortared brick at a time. Hello there, how is your day going?