I was stuck in an emotional funk and I couldn’t get out of it. My son and I had just had a heated conflict while playing ping pong. A fight during play! My husband stepped in to facilitate a calmer conversation. It helped both of them move on, but not me.
They begged me to come play with them again. Play? No way. Sitting at the kitchen table, every part of me felt heavy. I was mad at them for moving on, and upset with myself for not moving on, potentially ruining our entire night.
The longer I sat though, I began to see the faint outlines of my old wounds creating this cascade of emotion. The faint outlines got filled in with memories, and I started to soften inside, relieved to discover the deeper source of my upset. I realized that my husband’s attempts to heal our conflict were well intended but superficial. I couldn’t move on until there was enough safety in my family to share my vulnerability and receive theirs.
The light bulb went on: The Talking Stick!