For everything there is a season,
and a time to every purpose under heaven.
A time to rend, and a time to sew;
A time to keep silent, and a time to speak.
Ecclesiastes 3:1,7
There are times, in the human experience, when the negative emotions of grief or anger become so overwhelming, so excruciating, that there are no words to adequately articulate the depth of our pain. Speech is rendered useless. Only raw physical action can begin to express our anguish. In biblical times, that bodily force erupted in the savage tearing of clothing. It was a potent physical and emotional release that signified the rending of the heart and soul of an individual.
When my twenty-two year marriage was in its final death throes, and the brute agony of years of verbal and emotional abuse threatened to completely engulf me, I occasionally found my release in throwing things that would break upon impact: a glass, a vase, a plate. The sight and sound of a fragile object smashing into a million pieces mirrored my own disintegration. The roar of my silence found its outlet in destruction and devastation.
When the dust of divorce settled and he was finally gone, I began the slow, uncertain process of knitting myself back together. The introduction of a skilled therapist allowed words to begin to flow – haltingly at first, then bursting forth in a torrent of failure, sorrow and fury. Over the ensuing years, finding my voice has enabled me to discover who I really am and my value as an individual. Speaking out brought calm, then peace, and finally, joy.
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