Why Old Wounds Can Hurt More Later in Life

In my research with older people, I frequently encounter psychological phenomena that acquire a distinct intensity in later life.

‘My mother abandoned me throughout my life,’ Martha told me, wiping her eyes. ‘She always seemed to punish me by refusing to acknowledge me, refusing to see me. There is nothing more painful than feeling as though you are unseen by your mother.’

As our conversation unfolded, I felt the weight of the burden Martha carried, and a sense that she felt increasingly helpless in relation to what to do about it as the end of her life drew closer. She had unanswered questions, unresolved resentment, and a sense of panic and hopelessness about repairing wounds and making peace with the ghosts of her past.

Biographical Pain

The British gerontologist and later life scholar Professor Malcolm Johnson described such psychological and spiritual suffering as biographical pain. It is associated with the painful recollection of experienced wrongs, broken promises, regretted actions and unresolved relationships in the face of finitude.

In other words, it is the unique sense of suffering we experience towards the end of our lives, when we confront myriad loose ends, unanswered questions, unfulfilled ambitions, and the sense that our lives did not play out as we might have wished.

As Johnson suggested, not all lives are triumphs of attainment, love, and integrity. And in my research experience, many people are followed by a caravan of biographical pain by the time they reach the end of the journey.

What is unique about the phenomenon is that in later life we are forced to face the reality that we are nearing the end of the runway. There is little time to rewrite the script, change the course, or make amends.

In youth, the same issues are still very much a part of our biography, but there is a sense — a hypothetical possibility — that time will iron things out. It is as though we unconsciously believe we have time to make peace, resolve relational conflicts, and heal old wounds. And somehow, we can live with the loose ends, safe in the knowledge that we can deal with them if we need to.

But eventually, time runs out. And we are faced with the brutal reality that this is in fact our biographical story. Our script is written and we can no longer hide behind the defence of timelessness.

It is at this point in the lifespan that I have witnessed so many older people grappling with their own biographical pain. It might be related to unresolved relational wounds – like Martha’s – that are impossible to redress in person because, for example, the family and friends involved are long dead.

It could be our own guilt in relation to perceived wrongdoings, resentment in relation to harms we have experienced, or regret in relation to choices we wish we had made. There seems to be something about nearing the end of life that brings such issues to the surface powerfully. It is though we can no longer hide from them. Our soul seems to need to bring them to our attention.

Private Burden

I’ve noted that many older people carry this sort of burden silently and privately. Biographical pain is mostly invisible. Johnson argued that if it doesn’t manifest through physical and mental health symptoms, then it can go largely undetected and older people can suffer in silence. There is something particularly isolating about sitting alone and struggling with the unresolved burdens of one’s unique biographical journey.

Johnson believed that this sort of spiritual and psychological suffering does not simply go away on its own. In fact, for many people, the more it is revisited and the more time people sit with it alone and without a trustworthy witness, the more painful it gets.

One interviewee, Janet, told me: ‘All my life I've suffered…With everything that’s gone wrong, I would have liked to talk to somebody, no advice, I just feel I want to let off steam I suppose. But it doesn’t happen. There is no space you can talk privately. There's no space.’

Biographical Listening

In light of the fact that we cannot rewrite the script, one response that may help alleviate biographical pain is the simple practice of biographical listening. Ultimately, this amounts to non-judgmental listening with a trustworthy other who allows the teller the time and space to sort through, express, and explore their biographical pain.

In my experience, the result is often a sense that one’s biography has been shared, witnessed, unjudged, and accepted. This often brings a sense of comfort and relief around something that has often been carried privately for years. Although we cannot change the events already lived, biographical listening may alter how privately and painfully they must be carried.

If you would like to read more of Martha’s story, check out Reaching the End of the Runway at The Inner Room.

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