She cupped her hands and extended them out before me. Her fingers were closed tightly so, whatever she was holding had no chance of slipping through her fingers. In her cupped hands, sat a pool of hot, bubbling anger. She told me that two years ago, she’d been severely bullied within the first month of moving into her new high school. She’d been taunted repeatedly in the hallways, excluded and ridiculed on social media. She ate her lunch in a bathroom stall for several months rather than endure being isolated and ridiculed in the cafeteria in front of all of her peers. That’s when the cutting and thoughts of suicide began. She just wanted the pain to stop. Another student in the school witnessed the bullying and she was moved to help. That brave soul invited her to sit with her crew in the cafeteria and a friendship developed. She believes it was that act of kindness that saved her life.

That experience took a toll on her. She was still suffering from what had happened to her a year later. The teen that sat before me had no sparkle in her eyes and no energy left to fight for her right to be here. As we began to work together to untangle what had happened, she slowly emerged from the darkest part of her despair. We talked a lot about what kept her tethered – albeit tenuously to this world. It was dance and the brave soul. Through dance and kindness, her pain was able to be seen and heard. Those things didn’t blame her for what was happening, tell her to just ignore the assholes or tell her it would get better. Those things said, “I see you and I hear you”, now come with me.

As she moved from self-hatred to self-acceptance by finding her worth and self-compassion, she began to heal. She discovered that for most of her remaining years in high school, she had identified herself as a victim. Her anger and hurt about what had been done to her had driven much of what she thought, did and said to herself. In her mind, holding onto the anger and hurt made the offenders “pay”. She held the anger tightly in her cupped, closed-fingered hands even though it burned and blistered her own palms. She wanted them to feel the pain she felt by keeping it alive in her. When it got too heavy and hot, she threw it at others or drank it just to have somewhere else to put it. I asked her what would happen is she just separated her fingers while cupping her hands. We could look at the scars the trauma left behind, but it would allow the rage to trickle from her cupped hands. Accepting the injustice of what happens to us as humans doesn’t have to define or run our lives. Yes, carry the pain so someone safe may be a witness to it too. But, carry it in cupped hands with open fingers and wait until it slips away. Trust that it will. This process is called feeling.

I watch her extend her cupped hands before me again. This time, with her fingers not pressed so tightly together. I told her I see what she holds and hear her story as to why it’s there. I stand with her as she waits for it to seep from her hands. She cries because it hurts and she cries because she has brought about the miracle of her own relief. She was getting back her power. She’s choosing to surrender to the hold the pain has on her and choosing to not be defined by it. She’s choosing to hold all she feels in her open-fingered hands and trust that what she carries will eventually slip through her hands. She’ll have battle scars but, she’s choosing to not let them be the only thing she reveals to this world. She learns there’s so much more to who she is than the scars that pain has left behind. Now, she has the energy and space to heal and find herself again. She dances, she cries, she creates and connects. Most importantly, she connects with herself using the tools of compassion, understanding and love. I’m an honored guest in the presence of a rebirth where there is laboring, pain, waiting and finally the emergence of a miracle. My heart dances with hers as I watch this courageous soul begin again.

Questions/activities to ponder or good journal prompts!

1. What painful, past experience may dictate how you live today and in what way/s?
2. What do you hold in your cupped hands and why is it so hard to open your fingers and let it go?
3. Have you been able to share the difficulty of what you feel and what you hold? Why/why not?
4. We all have wounds that require our attention so they heal. How do you foster your own healing?
5. Have you ever experienced a rebirth or been in the presence of one who has done so? What have you learned?