Hitting an emotional wall feels like reaching a dead end, where the gears of life shift and throw us off course.
Bouncing back from this experience is a complex journey. It involves more than simply seeking temporary relief, such as enjoying the ocean air at the beach, taking a refreshing walk in nature, or working out at the gym.
While these are all healthy choices, the emotional walls I'm referring to require us to confront mental and emotional fatigue and wrestle with a profound disconnect from the person we once were.
We all tend to avoid emotional pain—every single one of us. In doing so, we become “wall-builders” in our personal stories, sometimes consciously and sometimes unconsciously, with roots that may trace back to our childhood.
In times of deep pain, it’s human nature to want to protect our hearts; it’s our defense mechanism kicking in to help us manage our emotions healthily.
That’s the upside to our emotional walls.
However, there’s also a downside.
When left unchecked, these walls turn us into gatekeepers, constantly looking for potential danger, even when it doesn't exist. More importantly, they trap our emotions in a self-constructed prison, preventing us from fully experiencing them. After all, we can't heal what we don't acknowledge.
Many of us fear being exposed and vulnerable, and rightly so. It’s uncomfortable, not to mention scary. So dismantling the emotional walls we've relied on for years—walls that have offered us shelter and protection—can be daunting.
Yet, what if those walls no longer serve us? What if life has brought us to a pivotal moment where we can no longer ignore the call to break them down?
Do we dare go there? Do we dare sit with the shattered pieces? Do we dare analyze all the battles we’ve fought, every disappointment and hurt that led us to build those walls in the first place?
Growing up in a large family, I didn’t have the space to express my emotions. As a result, I became skilled at internalizing my feelings, which led me to build emotional walls around my heart. My motto became, “I will stay protected. I’m safe here. No one will ever hurt me again.”
And it didn't stop there: toxic relationships during my young adult life and various challenges later in life reinforced the walls I'd built. After over forty years as a “wall builder,” I had constructed a fortress that isolated me from the world. Everywhere I turned, there was a dead end. What I thought was keeping me safe, what I thought was protecting me, in reality, was destroying me.
Bouncing back seemed impossible and hopeless. Still, deep down, I knew the only way forward was to take a sledgehammer—metaphorically speaking—and break free, one smashed brick at a time.
This approach not only became the catalyst for improving my mental health, but it also gave me the courage to take risks and open myself up to vulnerability—all because I dared to go there.
For different reasons, the gears of life have shifted once again. The U.S. election has thrown many of us off course.
The walls of religion, homophobia, hatred, and injustice all weigh heavily on my heart.
What do the election results mean for Canada?
What impact will it have on my non-binary child, their American citizen wife, and my three adopted grandsons?
How will the government's indifference toward non-traditional families affect my grandchildren?
Will my LGBTQ2S+ family remain safe when visiting the U.S.?
It’s all too easy to start laying bricks of fear during this time, and before we know it, there’s a border wall surrounding our hearts.
I don't know about you, but I refuse to go back. I refuse to put my beautiful family back in the closet again. I will continue to do my part by helping to tear down the barriers that separate us, striving to move forward in peace and love, and leaving the rest in the hands of the Ultimate Builder of Unity—Jesus Christ, the One who came to break down the walls that divide us.
“Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me.”
Merry Christmas.
