Boxes by Karen Gilmore

Have you ever attempted to complete a task in the tiniest of spaces? Shortly after a move I was in my new kitchen preparing my breakfast at the kitchen counter. As I squeezed my elbows between boxes, God revealed to me in that moment that I have been functioning in a similar way while trying to enjoy life in the smallest capacity amidst boxes filled with pain and wounds.

Boxes. So many boxes. I’ve collected and filled them all my life. I have a box that holds my core beliefs about what it means to fail; in relationships, marriage, whether I was a good wife, a good mother, a good daughter, a good friend, a hard worker, liked, or even loveable at all. Maybe you too can easily identify that box. There’s a box that contains shame and guilt. It has a lot more tape than some of the other boxes after years of trying to keep everything inside secure and hidden from view. I find myself frequently protecting that box, so others don’t know my shame.

Another box holds grief and the pain of the death of loved ones and loss of meaningful relationships. There are a lot of tear stains, sadness and dented sides from the deep pain and anger that has pressed and crushed as well as impressions of shared hugs from the support of others through the grief.

There is a box in which disappointment, unfulfilled expectations, bitterness and anger reside. Let’s not forget about trauma. It has an intrusive way of ending up in all the boxes. It’s like tangled Christmas lights spilling out and becoming even more tangled when it encounters the contents of the other boxes. Once that happens it’s hard to know what items go in what boxes as I scoop up the mess. I even try to help others scoop up their spilled contents but then I’m not sure what’s mine and what’s there’s anymore. Sometimes I let the spilled boxes sit for a while because I’m too exhausted to work on them.

So many boxes; relationship wounds, spiritual wounds, cultural wounds, gender wounds, power and control wounds, body image, loneliness, not feeling worthy, feeling powerless, not in control, rejection, not fitting in, not measuring up, feeling deeply responsible, not safe, too vulnerable. I don’t know about you, but I sometimes even fear the box that holds my fears and deeply grieve that I have boxes at all.

It’s not easy to admit that I sometimes need help with the contents of my boxes, but I do. I’ve had to learn that I’m not meant to handle what’s in my boxes alone. If it was mine to work on in that way, I would have already done it. It’s not about my skills or abilities, or who I am. They’re just too heavy to work on by myself and sometimes too deep to reach into alone. By leaning into vulnerability and opening myself up to others I can explore and process what’s inside and find a more comfortable place for the contents to hold space which helps them become less overwhelming.

While watching a video about grief and trauma by David Kessler and Frank Anderson, they mentioned that trauma always includes grief, but grief does not always include trauma. Think of it this way, if you have experienced something very difficult such as a significant adversity, it can be a traumatic experience for you and grief is going to occur. Grief and trauma become blended. So, when grief gets triggered later you might experience the future grief situation as traumatic. They both show up together. For those who have not experienced trauma at that level, a grievous situation that occurs in the future will more than likely not be experienced as traumatic while you grieve. This explains a lot why grief is also in many of my boxes.

For some time, I have been approaching personal healing a little differently after reading Aundi Kolber’s book, Try Softer. When I notice I’m struggling, I am learning to take a more gentle, self-compassionate, curious, and kind approach that recognizes my hard-working impulse to bootstrap through my day but at the same time I can shift toward compassion and inquire about what I might need as I notice my struggle. Making this change has not been easy but it has been rewarding. Physical pain and fatigue have lessened, and I spend less time and energy tolerating discomfort and waiting for its end. I have become proactive and initiate connection and soothing inside myself so I can connect outside of me with others. I make it a choice rather than feeling as if I have no choice. I would like to say that this process has contributed to fully healing strained relationships, but it hasn’t because other people have their own boxes too. The difference now is that the boxes I have worked on lightening are giving way and are allowing some space, some elbow room to enjoy more of life.

As you’ve read through this you’ve more than likely been thinking about your own boxes and what’s inside. My hope for you is that as you explore the contents of your boxes you will experience healing and benefit from more usable space in your life.