Healing Through Story Telling

When bad things happen to you, how do you cope with your feelings: the pain, the blame, resentment and wanting to retaliate? How do you help others, and yourself, break through the turmoil in your brain to be able to see a different perspective, and then begin to heal? Through storytelling.

Story telling offers a safe medium where you can face all your feelings by identifying with the main characters in the story, and as they make choices, so you see objectively the consequences of those choices, which you might not be able to identify when still stuck in a furor of unfathomable feelings.

This story addresses injustice and illustrates how blame can be maladaptive and therefore emotionally unhealthy.

'Far, far away in the land that bobbed in and out of view depending upon the sea mist, in a splendid palace beneath a huge mountain, Queen Hension sat dressed in black as her king lay in his grave. The queen's mother, having attended his stately funeral, gathered her bags and the royal carriage was summoned to take her home. As she hugged her tearful daughter she spoke with urgency in her voice, "My child, you have to remarry, for you have no heir. You have to provide your kingdom with a child who will succeed you when you die. Do not wait too long. Find yourself a husband, and soon."

The poor grieving young queen sniffed. The thought of someone replacing her wonderful king was repugnant to her, but she understood her mother's words and nodded, waving as the carriage became a speck in the distance.

Within a few days every fine bachelor in the land had knocked on the great palace door asking to see Queen Hension, and although she received them politely, offering them tea and exquisite little cakes, her mind was elsewhere. Each man, intent on impressing her, boasted about his wealth and strength, but her heart was broken and she longed for her king night after night as her loneliness consumed her.

Deep in the valley beneath the palace lived a young man called Pewmith who lived with his mother, an ambitious and cold-hearted woman. She heard of all the young men calling upon the grieving queen and grabbed Pewmith's arm roughly.

"Get yourself up to the palace and worm your way into Queen Hension's heart. All you have to do is to be sympathetic and let her believe you care. Even you can do that."

Pewmith had been an unhappy child since his father fled in the night, unable to stand his wife's cutting tongue. He had grown up believing that if his father couldn't stand up to his mother, then what chance did he have? And so in order to silence her, Pewmith did as he was told. The next day Pewmith and his mother set off for the palace, his face grim as she nagged him all the way. As they rang the royal bell she hissed in his ear, "Now, just remember, be sympathetic and you'll be fine." She spat on her hand and tried to flatten his hair.

They were shown to a regal sitting room where Queen Hension sat forlornly. Pewmith's mother pushed him sharply in the back and he edged forward as she hung back attempting a deep curtsey. Remembering his mother's words, he coughed nervously and knelt at the young queen's feet.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," he spluttered, gingerly taking her hand.

Queen Hension, used to young men boasting about themselves, looked up in surprise, and as Pewmith smiled at her, so she smiled back.

It happened remarkably quickly, as Pewmith's mother had planned, and they were married within the month. The queen's mother was delighted, hoping for grandchildren who would be heirs to the throne, but as the months turned into years no babies came.

"Why are my prayers left unanswered?" Queen Hension cried to Pewmith, who wrung his hands not knowing what to do or say.

One day while the queen sat in her garden beneath the trees, oblivious to the beauty around her, she pleaded to the gods. "Oh, please send me a child. I beg of you, please, let me have a sweet child to love, one that will be able to rule justly and with kindness over the kingdom when I've gone."

Not all the gods in that land were good - some were fallen gods - and those that heard her plea laughed, deciding to play a trick on her. "Let's grant her wish but give her two identical sons with different hearts and see what happens to the kingdom once they grow up."

They appeared before her and said, "We shall grant you your wish; you shall have twin sons but in return you must call your sons Repreï and Compreï."

The fallen gods waited and watched with mischief in their hearts.

Queen Hension was beside herself with joy when she gave birth to the identical twin boys, and she stared at the tiny infants believing that the gods had blessed her. But although the two boys looked identical, the fallen gods had given them a challenge that rested in their hearts, unseen by others but that was there nevertheless. It was the way they responded to this challenge that was to make them different.

Queen Hension remembered the names that she had promised to use, and said, "We have to call them Repreï and Compreï."

Repreï and Compreï grew up to be fine young princes and Queen Hension believed that nothing could mar her happiness, but little did she suspect that the differences the fallen gods had put in her sons' hearts would one day threaten to destroy them.

It began one morning when Pewmith's mother arrived at the palace announcing that she'd come to stay because a fierce wind had destroyed her home. Repreï and Compreï glanced at each other trying to hide their feelings, for they had always known that their grandmother hated children. They had known what was in their grandmother's heart, as all children do. Every time she visited she forced them to do all kinds of chores and to walk her dogs around the palace grounds to get the boys out of her way.

Pewmith's mother had only been in the palace for two days when Queen Hension was seen running from the dining room crying, and Pewmith summoned Repreï and Compreï before him saying that a decision had been made about their futures. "Your grandmother thinks that you should leave the palace for six months to live with different families in the kingdom."

Repreï and Compreï looked shocked and started to speak out but their grandmother shouted over them, dislike on her face. "You are both spoiled, you have too much. Your mother dotes on you both and has made you weak and spoiled."

Pewmith faltered and shifted uncomfortably, saying, "It's not for very long."

Repreï and Compreï were very angry and begged their father to reconsider. But when their grandmother took her walking stick and rapped it sharply on the polished floor, dismissing them with one hand, Pewmith all but ran from the room, ignoring their stricken faces. So they went to find their mother who was still crying into a royal lace handkerchief and began to plead with her. "Please don't make us go away from the palace, it's not fair. We haven't done anything. Talk to our father and make him change his mind," Repreï demanded, and Compreï nodded in agreement.

"It is your father's wish," the queen said, looking sad and troubled.

"It's Grandmother's wish, you mean," Repreï said bitterly. "Why can't either of you stand up to her? She's a bully."

Queen Hension said nothing, and as Repreï and Compreï walked out of the palace doors later that day, both were very angry. "It's not right," Repreï said. "We haven't done anything wrong. Why are we being treated this way?"

"I know," Compreï said, "I don't understand. Why won't our parents stand up to Grandmother?" But even though they complained and moaned as the royal carriage rolled through the streets taking them to their new homes, nothing could stop the inevitable from happening. The driver stopped outside a small tumbled down house and handed Repreï a meager suitcase before driving off to deliver Compreï to his new home.

That night as the young princes lay in their lumpy beds after a cold shower out in the yard, they longed for the comfort of their own beds and a warm bubble bath in their private bathrooms. Their bellies rumbled with hunger, having been given a stew for dinner that was made almost entirely of potatoes; and as they tossed and turned, nightmares intruded into their sleep of a fine feast upon a golden table dissolving into vile, tasteless gruel.

The next morning Repreï cussed under his breath as he was handed an axe and told to chop wood for the fire so that they could cook porridge oats for breakfast. He was cold, hungry and very angry. Compreï also had chores to do before he was given any breakfast. He had to clean out the pigsty, collect freshly laid eggs from underneath hens that tried to peck him and made him sneeze when they ruffled their feathers. His back hurt from lying on a lump in his mattress, which smelled as if a cat had marked its territory on it. He felt vaguely sick and wasn't sure if he could stomach breakfast, even though he was very hungry. He, too, was very angry.

The children in the families, jealous of their wealth, stole the princes' clothes so they were forced to wear rags, and within a week both princes had black eyes as the neighborhood children taunted them because their accents were different from their own. Despite both princes writing to their parents, their letters were returned with their grandmother's handwriting on the envelopes saying, "Return to sender, no longer at this address."

A year later news of Pewmith's mother's death spread through the kingdom and the two princes left their meager homes and set off for the palace. Both were hungry and exhausted, skinny and gaunt, and were covered in bruises from being beaten. Both had betrayal resting upon their faces, and anger simmered beneath their relief at being home where they belonged.

Queen Hension threw her arms around her sons, crying at the sight of them. "Your grandmother is dead," she whispered in their ears, "and we are free of her at last." Pewmith faltered when he saw his sons for they turned away from him with anger and contempt in their hearts, blaming him for the hardship they'd been forced to endure.

Night after night Queen Hension wept in her bed as she witnessed the growing hatred that had crept into her sons' hearts towards their father. She prayed to the mountain gods for help, and as she drifted off to sleep one night, the gods whispered in her ear, "There's no blame, only understanding."

When she awoke she knew what to do; she called Repreï and Compreï to her and began to explain Pewmith's actions to them but Repreï and Compreï were instantly angry, their tempers flaring. "Why couldn't he stand up to his mother? She never wanted us around."

Queen Hension looked sad for their words were true; she too had tried and failed to stand up to the woman with hate and greed in her heart, yet she knew that Pewmith had also suffered. She took their hands and said, "Yes, he should have been stronger against his mother but one of the reasons he did not stop her was that he wanted you both to live amongst the people you will eventually rule. He wanted you to understand those people, their hardships and trials, and although you may have felt hurt, understanding the reasons for his actions must surely help repair your relationship with him."

"He is weak and he had no right," Repreï snapped angrily. "Doesn't he know how much he hurt me? Doesn't he know how much pain I endured? It's all his fault; I hate him." But Compreï looked thoughtful and said, "Well, it hurt me a lot, too, but now that you've explained one of the reasons why he did not stop Grandmother from sending us away, I can understand, even though it still hurts. But why didn't you answer our letters?"

Queen Hension looked at the floor with shame written upon her face. "Your grandmother wouldn't allow us to reply. Your father and I have been weak and your grandmother unjust. I understand why you're angry."

"It's the injustice that makes me so angry," Compreï said. "I'm angry that neither you nor my father stood up to my grandmother's bullying, for she didn't care what happened to us, she just wanted us out of the way."

Queen Hension nodded with tears in her eyes. "Yes, it's right and proper to be angry when you experience injustice, but understanding the reasons why people behave the way they do surely helps to make the blame go away."

"I don't blame either of you now that I understand the reasons why you all behaved the way you did, even though it still hurts," Compreï said, but Repreï looked at Compreï scornfully, and said, "You're not going to let them get away with it as easily as that, are you, after all the pain and suffering we've endured?"

At that very moment Queen Hension remembered her prayer to the fallen gods, and suddenly she understood why the fallen gods had insisted upon her son's names. She saw the difference the fallen gods had placed in the hearts of her identical sons - Rapier’s heart was full of blame, and Compere’s heart was full of understanding. As the realization flowed through her, the princes no longer looked like identical twins. Her heart was filled with pain and she felt tricked and betrayed. She vowed that she would spend the rest of her life trying to rid Repreï of the blame that lived in his heart.

One day as Queen Hension strolled around the palace gardens she came upon Compreï, who sat slumped as if he had the weight of the world upon his shoulders. "What troubles you?" she asked him gently.

He smiled with sadness in his eyes and said, "Although I understand why we were sent away, the pain still weighs heavily upon me. What can I do to rid myself of it for I do not want blame to begin to eat away at me?"

Queen Hension thought for a moment and, knowing the weight of pain, thought how she could help her sons. "I know," she said, "we'll go on a journey up the mountain. Put your walking boots on and find a backpack. Go and fetch Repreï for he must come too."

Repreï muttered angrily as they began to climb the mountain, and as they stumbled across loose rocks underfoot, Queen Hension told the princes to put them in their backpacks. The princes looked confused but did as they were asked. By the time they reached the top of the mountain their backpacks were full to the brim with rocks that weighed heavily on their shoulders; the straps cut into them causing them pain. They longed to take the backpacks off but Queen Hension would not allow them to. Confusion rested on their faces.

"My beautiful sons, I know you were hurt, but what you do with that hurt will determine whether you will be weighed down with blame forever. See each rock in your backpack as the pain you feel. Reach into it and throw them off the mountain. Free yourselves of the pain that fosters blame."

They slung their backpacks over one shoulder and began throwing the heavy rocks one by one as far as they could, listening to them crash on the boulders far below them. Gradually, as their backpacks were emptied, the pain on their shoulders eased and Compreï smiled at his mother.

"That feels so much better," he said. "I have thrown my pain away, and I don't feel weighed down anymore." But Repreï scoffed at his brother, and even though his backpack was empty and the pain eating into his shoulders relieved, the blame that lived in his heart remained.

As the months went by he became more and more eaten up with blame, and as his anger grew, his heart began to shrivel with hatred. Not only did he hate his father, his dead grandmother and all the people who had hurt him during his year away from the palace, but now as Compreï's heart grew with understanding and compassion, Repreï began to hate Compreï, too.

The fallen gods laughed as they watched Repreï being destroyed by the blame in his heart, and Queen Hension's heart slowly broke as she watched him gradually shrivel and die.

Years later when Queen Hension died and Compreï became king, King Comprehension, although he occasionally still felt the remnants of hurt in his heart, he used the painful experiences that he had endured during those twelve months he'd been cast aside to understand his people. He was able to rule the people of his kingdom with understanding and compassion. He was the finest king that ever lived, and the fallen gods stopped laughing, their mischief having been beaten by understanding.'

The story shows two perceptions of abuse towards two young boys who had no say in their lives. One recognised his pain but sought to understand what had happened and then found it impossible to blame, while the other boy hung on to his blame, which ultimately poisoned him and stopped him from living a full, productive, happy life.

The moral of the story is, "There is no blame, only understanding."

I am the author of the "I Only Said" therapeutic novels for troubled and suicidal teenagers and young adults. There are currently ten books available and also an autobiography called The Right Thing, which shows how the series of self-help therapeutic novels began. It is a harrowing, yet very honest account of a terrible situation, and isn't for teenagers, but rather for those who help young people. This article uses one of the eighteen therapeutic fables I've written to date to help those who hurt, and who are "stuck", to perceive their problems in a different way so that they may heal themselves and move towards living a fulfilling life. This fable is taken from book one, "I Only Said I Had No Choice”.

I am currently working on the eleventh novel, and also a companion guide book to the series for teachers, counselors, therapists, psychiatrists and pastors, all of whom have requested such a guide, to help them use the series of books in the best way possible to help troubled and suicidal young people.

Sincerely, Dr. Celia Banting

Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/?expert=Celia_Banting