Women, Wounds, and Wisdom in Midlife: Embracing Growth and Resilience
Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer’s substack post arrived in my inbox recently and with it her poem “Placing Attention”. It struck a chord – the first two lines read:
“Today it was so clear.
It’s not all about the wounds but the waking.”
When Wounds Keep Us Stuck
We often become so focused on our wounds we’re unable to move forward. We replay each moment and thought continuously, caught in an emotional cycle of hurt, anger, rage, shame, guilt, fear, blame; sometimes trapped in a trauma response that’s meant to keep us safe that unless resolved, keeps us stuck.
We’re like passengers in an airplane that’s circling endlessly in an overcrowded airspace, unable to land long enough or safely enough to let these anxious passengers breathe a sigh of relief as they exit the plane, fully awake and open to the possibilities that lay ahead of them as they take their first steps across the tarmac.
It's not always easy to shift from feeling wounded and heal our pain. We become used to the experience, even when we long to move beyond it. Sometimes it’s just easier to remain embedded in the familiar messiness and clutter that’s accumulated from the moment we felt hurt or wronged. It’s somehow safer to put blinders on, blame others or ourselves for the wrongs we’ve suffered. Sometimes, we just don’t know how to open the door that’s been locked for so long, or we’re afraid of what we might find if we dare take a peek outside.
Stories Told
And, of course, there’s layers that prop our wounds up, evidence that’s gathered to corroborate our fears and stories of heartache, of being wronged, of not feeling “enough”.
Sometimes the evidence is real, sometimes we hear it from others and accept it as truth, and sometimes it’s how we’ve made sense of events to keep us safe and protected.
Lessons from Women on the Prairies
My trip to the Prairies recently reminded me of the women I worked with in a life skills program. Women arrived in the program filled with evidence that they were unworthy and invisible, despite a spark of buried resilience and strength.
It was a familiar theme drilled into them by abuse from parents and partners/spouses, a culture that devalued women’s power, a socio-economic-political landscape that limited opportunity and possibility, and the power of addictions that played havoc in their lives - all contributing to limiting beliefs that kept them mired in their wounds.
It also reminded me of how quickly things can change.
Within 6 weeks of being held and supported, taught new ways of thinking that challenged old beliefs, and encouraged to take safe risks one step at a time, many were ready to open the door, to witness their wounded parts stepping outside into the arms of a wise, strong, and resourceful woman within.
Fear, Courage, and Opening the Door to Healing
I’ll never forget seeing their fears transformed into courage, of hearing their voices emerge, sometimes for the first time after years of being silenced.
I’m grateful to have witnessed these brave survivors who began navigating the vast prairie landscape of their lives with renewed resilience, grit and determination, who found alternative strategies to managing seasonal storms and transitions with strength and compassion - for who they were and who they were becoming.
The women in our groups were my teachers. I did my best to offer a safe space, teach, facilitate and support each one from my very privileged place in life, from a front row view as I stood on the edge of the prairies – this is not to negate or minimize my wounds and challenges, but to acknowledge our realities. They were gracious enough to accept me, privilege and all. Inviting me in to their private spaces was an honour I never took lightly or for granted because “by the grace of God, there go I”.
They taught me humility, to respect pain and suffering, to leave judgement and blame out of the equation because we all walk in different shoes even when we’re on the same path.
I learned about grief and loss and the impact of not having a safe space to acknowledge, accept and grieve our losses, for which there were many.
I witnessed deep scars, listened to the stories of unimaginable violence and abuse and the long term impact on individuals, families and communities. Systems thought to help weren’t always helpful, adding to the stress and anxiety that was a constant in participants’ bodies and minds.
I learned that trust, even within oneself, is earned by gathering evidence, one step at a time, and safety is always at the core of what we do and why we do it. I learned to respect imperfection and understand that no one gets it right all the time, that each one of us is doing the best we can with what we’ve got to work with.
They taught me to laugh even through the toughest of times, to see that despite the darkness, there are moments of light, spaces where hope shines through and the sun warms the soul.
I experienced firsthand the power of women coming together, not to compare their wounds, but to extend a hand to each other; comrades and warriors helping each other through the fight to move forward, step out of their wounds and not return to what or who threatened their lives and sometimes their will to live.
These lessons, gifts really, helped shaped me professionally, but more importantly, helped me grow as a woman. I’ve carried these lessons within me, drawing on them when I’ve been wounded or struggled. I’ve shared them with clients, not always aware, but grateful, that they were passed on to me from each woman I was blessed to meet so many years ago.
The Power of Safe Spaces – From Wounds to Wisdom With Tap and Write
The life skills program was really about learning to see life from a different perspective or lens, to help guide women out from behind their wounds so they had the courage and conviction to open the door, to waken and step into possibilities and opportunities.
In a way, I’ve come full circle as I work 1:1 and in small groups with Tap and Write. The essence of this work is the same: to create safe spaces for women to honour themselves, step out of their wounds and explore new perspectives, a way to grow and move forward through my unique combination of EFT tapping and therapeutic/reflective writing.
Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer captures being woken beautifully:
I took my broken heart outside
into the autumn air,
inhaled the scent of dying grass
and dying leaves and felt so alive
as the wind ravaged my untied hair.
Outside, I closed my eyes and went in.
In my ears, the roar of galvanized leaves.
On my face, unclouded sun.
And inside, such unnameable vastness
even now I stutter in wonder.
What lessons have you learned from other women that continue to shape your journey today?
If you were to focus less on the wounds and more on the ways you are waking to life, what would shift or change for you?
If these words and questions resonate with you, I invite you to step into your own journey from wounds to wisdom with Tap and Write, where journaling and EFT Tapping help women cultivate resilience, embrace change, and reconnect with their inner strength.
For more inspiration, prompts, and guidance for midlife women navigating growth and transformation, join my newsletter, The WISER Woman’s Guide, and continue your journey toward self-compassion, clarity, and possibility.
Thanks for reading.
Joan
