The procedure was necessary and would only take a few minutes. Outpatient. In-office. Not a big deal. Yes, it will be uncomfortable, but not for long. “You must hold still. Sit on the table on your knees, your rear in the air, head down in your arms.”
Humiliation has a name. Mortification. Though a medical procedure, done with precision, objectivity, and the greatest of care and compassion, a sense of violation slips in. It just comes with the territory. Even by consent it still hurts, invades, is embarrassing.
Gladly it did not last long. Results were good. Yet lasting effects dragged on. Mortification, like being fully anesthetized yet remaining wide awake, wraps one in layers of protective shroud, insulation from the reality endured. With time, it wears off. The saving grace: professional distance.
Now nearly sixty years later I awake whimpering with these memories. Remnants still of lingering hurt? Not that I am consciously aware of. So I lift it up for whatever it is, for the healing that needs take place somewhere deep in my subconscious.
Sometimes, like a surgical procedure, life events violate, penetrate into one’s soul – the mind, emotions, that part of us that links our earthly body to our spirit. No wonder the mind becomes the war zone where tortuous thoughts assail, the battle is fought for peace within. The enemy woos, offering to dull the mind with drugs, alcohol, ways to mask our pain and humiliation. Anything to keep the spirit from overcoming.
Take courage, soul! With light shown into our deepest, darkest emotional recesses, healing can come. It may be painful for a little while. It may be unwelcome. Feel totally humiliating, seem mortifying. Still, let the light of truth shine into those hidden places. Become free from those burdens. Be made well, whole again. No matter how long it takes. Stand and face the fear of it. Let mortification go!