Buried Feelings

The journey back to my feelings.

The Lord is close to all whose hearts are crushed with pain, and he is always ready to restore the repentant one. Psalm 34:18

When I began doing step work, I imagined I would have to confront the insidious nature of alcoholism and addiction. But I never expected to uncover the deep seated patterns and behaviors in my own life. I did not expect to come face to face with my real feelings, the ones I had spent a lifetime burying.

As a child, what I saw and heard didn’t match what I was told. The fights, the broken glass, the shattered television, the damaged cars, the bruises, the police showing up at the house, the screaming, and the silence afterward. All of it was untouchable. Off limits. Growing up in that environment, I learned that emotions could not be trusted. The message, spoken or unspoken, was always the same. Everything is fine. This is normal. So I learned to treat chaos like routine and danger as part of daily life.

That conditioning didn’t stay in my childhood. It followed me into adulthood and has caused real damage. It became the lens I saw my whole life through. When someone in front of me was hurting, I froze. I didn’t know how to comfort them. Not because I didn’t care, but because I was trained to react as if their pain was just another routine moment to gloss over and pretend nothing was happening. I learned to shut down and disappear emotionally. I learned to cover everything up, including myself. If I had to toughen up and move on, then so should they. So I came into recovery with no idea how to deal with real feelings, mine or anyone else’s.

In recovery, I am learning that awakening old emotions, while uncomfortable, is also necessary. Tears I stuffed down for years often come, and they are the beginning of honesty and healing. They represent years of buried truth finally rising to the surface. It is ironic that it was pain that finally brought me through the doors of recovery. The pain finally got greater than my fear of change. But even that pain, the failed relationship and collapse of what I thought was normal adulthood, wasn’t the source. It was merely an echo. The real wound was buried deep below the surface. There lived a much older ache, one formed long before adulthood, long before my own choices and consequences. One I never had permission to feel. That buried pain is what created the pain that dragged me into the program.

Recovery has helped me face both layers: the adult pain that brought me in and the childhood pain that kept me stuck. Step work has helped me face the truth that the hurt I carried into adulthood was born long before I ever had adult responsibilities. Working with a sponsor, going to meetings, learning to tell the truth in inventory, making amends, all of it has helped me peel back the layers and finally see myself as I really am. For the first time, I am beginning to understand what compassion looks like, both toward others and toward myself. I am learning how to listen, to be patient, to forgive without conditions. And because I don’t inherently know how, I now ask, “How can I help?”

𝗥𝗲𝗰𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀.

It is a daily process to unlearn all those years of pretending. A daily process to tell myself the truth. A daily process to feel what I feel without shame. A daily process that is slow, painful, and confusing at times. A daily process of allowing God to help me and heal those hidden layers.

But this process is freeing. I am receiving something I never had growing up, the emotional room to feel, to express, to be honest, and to become whole. For the first time in my life, I am building a new relationship with my own heart. And that is recovery too.

𝗣𝗿𝗮𝘆𝗲𝗿

God, thank You for staying close to me even when I buried my feelings so deeply that I could not reach them myself. Help me continue to face the pain I used to run from. Teach me to trust the emotions I learned to fear. Heal the hidden places where old wounds still speak and give me the courage to feel honestly, love openly, and live fully awake. Amen.