Do you ever wonder why some things hurt you more than they seem to hurt others? Or why you are more sensitive or reactive to a certain type of personality trait or characteristic? Oftentimes, our hurts and hang-ups, or the cyclical behaviour we find ourselves trapped in are often connected to our past wounds. And if we dig even deeper, we can usually find a core wound where it all started. For me, my core wound formed when I was just a child. Here is my story:
The Girl at the Glass Door
The warmth of the light shone through the glass and out into the bleakness of the frigid winter morning. Just inside the door she stood peering through the frosty glass at the empty street before her. Her tangled yellow hair tumbled over the hood of her bulky purple snowsuit. She had been waiting for him for a while; tiny pearls of sweat speckled her nose. She exhaled a warm breath onto the glass and wrote her name in sloppy cursive.
A pair of bright headlights appeared from around the corner. She quickly wiped the glass with the palm of her hand and squinted to see through. It was a pickup truck. She could feel her heartbeat quickening as she reached for the handle of the door. In that moment, as the truck drove toward her, she realized it was the wrong colour. Her hand fell limply to her side as a familiar knot tightened in her stomach. She pressed her lips together tightly in an attempt to hold back the tears that threatened to escape. It wasn’t him.
She can’t remember if he even came that winter day. She spent many days waiting at that glass door. Perhaps that same day happened a thousand times, the memories bleeding into one another to form this one distinct moment in time she can recall so clearly. Waiting…always waiting. Such a trivial thing one would think, just waiting at a door. She didn’t know then, but these moments, melded together, would pillage her self-worth and alter her path in life. They would weave together a belief system adopted by a young child and dragged through life like a dirty blanket.
That was me standing in that doorway and peering out from behind that glass door, begging for him to come; begging for him to love me. I’ve spent most of my life trapped in that doorway, re-experiencing it over and over in my subconscious; it’s gently tucked just beneath the surface so it is barely perceptible. It has directed my steps; it has held me captive. For years, I couldn’t escape that doorway, no matter how far I travelled; no matter how much I grew; no matter how many things I achieved.
Looking back at the countless times I stood at that door willing my dad to come see me breaks my heart. I can see myself standing there, the excitement in my eyes slowly fading as I realized that once again, he was not going to come. Something inside me broke in that doorway. Something inside me died as I waited endlessly for him. I believe it was in these moments that I began to develop a deep sense of unworthiness. I wasn’t enough. I had done something bad – I was bad.
As I look back now, I can see that it really had nothing to do with me. But knowing that doesn’t just change the beliefs that were formed in my mind. Time and time again the same thoughts, fears, and uncertainties raced through my mind on an endless track, like a man following the same path through the forest day after day. Each time he travels that path it becomes smoother, wider, and easier to traverse. In the same way, these beliefs carved their way through my small mind and became the foundation for a cycle that would stay with me for so many years of my life, causing so much pain and destruction.
I just want to hold that little girl. I want to tell her that she is beautiful and special and loved. I want her to know that she doesn’t have to believe these lies her mind has formulated, that it has nothing to do with her. Although I can’t go back in time and cradle that child in my arms, I have found a way to do that for myself now. And sometimes I can only do that when I picture that small child, so innocent and pure, wanting nothing but love and acceptance, and then realizing that I am her and I deserve those things too – even now.
After years of reflecting, I have come to realize that this was when a core wound was formed in me as a small child. The wound was caused by rejection and abandonment (real or imagined) and the result was a lifetime plagued by feelings of unworthiness.
Often when we suffer trauma or rejection as young children, we create a false narrative in our head that makes sense at the time. Then, even years later when we realize that we were wrong to think those things, the damage has already been done. I thought that once I could identify and rationalize my core wound it would just go away, along with all of the fallout it had caused in my life like perfectionism, toxic relationships, overachieving, and codependency. But it didn't just disappear. In fact, as I went through similar experiences throughout my life they seemed to pile on and just add to the depth and severity of that wound.
But there is still hope! Just like those thoughts created strong pathways in our young minds, so too can we create new pathways right now. And the first step is to identify your core wound(s). Now that I have located my core wound, I can start the journey of healing it and freeing that little girl from the confines of that cold glass door.
The second step is renewing our mind. Romans 12:2 tells us, “Don’t copy the behaviour and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think” (NLT). This is so encouraging because we don’t have to do everything ourselves. Our heavenly father takes an active role in our transformation when we refuse to be like the rest of the fallen world and turn to God instead.
I encourage you to investigate your core wounds, bring them to God for healing, then seek out relationship with Him. As we spend time in the word, it will dwell in us and combat old ways of thinking. Neural pathways that were built in the past will start degrading and we will build new pathways based on the joy, peace, and love of God.
Past wounds can hurt us very deeply, but our father is greater than that pain and He offers us healing, restoration, and transformation. Let’s put our hope in God and let Him heal us from the inside out.
About the Author: Holly Stringer | faithfulmomentum.com
My name is Holly. I am a writer and professor and the proud mother of two beautiful boys. Through the years I have had many ups and downs that the Lord has graciously carried me through, from toxic relationships, divorce and traumatic childhood wounds to the everyday struggles of a single mom. I felt compelled to begin writing and compiling the lessons I learned (and am still learning!) to bring hope and encouragement to women who endure similar struggles and obstacles in their lives.