Revised -Feel and Judge Our Feelings Less

Reflection can be hard.  When new wounds appear and we haven't even adjusted to the scars from the old ones, it is hard to be optimistic.  When I feel the old healing places fester it gets in the way of thinking how to cope with the new.  It's a tangle.  Solutions aren't easy, if even possible to solve.

When I empathize with someone who is lost, lonely, hurt and suffering, my scars feel heavier and more noticeable to me.  When I hug someone and say, "Hang in there," my eyes become the video rewinding of my own past traumas, hurts and losses.  It may sound egotistic, but it's normal.  We relate to the world around us from our own experiences and memories. Even when I'm just a casual on-looker and see someone comforting another, I can't help but feel my scars itch and crack a bit.  

I've tried avoiding. I try being aloof, checking my cell-phone, look in my purse, but my efforts don't help much.  I can't NOT feel.  I'd be a fool if I didn't think it would creep in on its own despite my defenses.

We become who we are by what we've experienced.  These experiences become the past, they are covered up, but they will never be forgotten entirely.  Please allow my comparison with a physical childhood wound.

I have an ugly, whitish, pinkish, scar on my left shoulder.  It's from a smallpox vaccination I got when I was a kid.  It was healing quite well on it's own without worrying about it.  I had to be reminded now and then not to touch it or pick at it.  As it healed it became dry and itchy. I could see it by just lifting my arm a bit. I compulsively checked it out when I was dressing or drying off after my bath. 

We do the same with emotional wounds.  We are reminded by society to put them behind us, not dig too deep. To just get on with the healing.  We look at it more intimately when we are alone.

It must have been summer when this happened. I remember wearing a sleeveless shirt playing outside. Giving it some air. At the time the scab was almost ready to fall off on its own, when I had an accident.  I was playing in the yard.  Some game of chase or hide-n-seek.  I remember I ran by one of the huge lilac trees in our yard and as I did my arm hit the rough bark on the trunk as I went by.  Off came the beautifully healing scab pulling more skin off with it.  It hurt like hell.  It was oozing blood so I didn't have a choice whether to ignore it or go inside to show Mom. (It was very bothersome to interrupt playing by going in.  It always ended the play and by the time I got outside again the neighborhood kids and my brothers have already taken off or have started some new game without me.  They didn't waste any time hovering over someone who got hurt while playing.) 

Again, bear with me.  We go on with our life, we repress the hurt.  When we least expect it, our wound is opened and it hurts more than before.  We want to ignore it and stay busy with our lives, but it's overpowering our normal functioning.  We have to address it, minister to it.

Mom wasn't too happy about the vaccination site.  She didn't wash it like most of my cuts and scrapes.  If my memory is right, she called Doctor Hamel.  I remember no cover was put over it.  Mom just gently rubbed some clear salve on it and left it as it was. I also remember I couldn't run around and play for a few days until a scab started forming over it again.  Then it was carefully covered with gauze.   

No one really wants to acknowledge our hurting.  They want to put a quick cover over it and pat our back and say, "Suck it up."  But, to really give it a chance to heal again we have to sit out some.  We have to open it up and look at it for what it really is.  Sometimes we need professional help.  Always we need someone who is loving and patient.

Scars are reminders. They don't need to be ugly.  I'm dealing with a few and I'm trying to see them in a more positive light and not be so afraid to look at them.  I don't want to be afraid to feel.  I don't want to apologize for getting a lump in my throat when I relate to the human side of me.  Who cares if it's a stranger I feel for. Maybe we need to feel more and judge our feelings less.  We will continue to be wounded and need the strength and time to heal.  When we least expect it we will scrape our arms up against the bark of a lilac tree.  It will hurt like hell.  We may have to put ourselves out of commission for while and take time.  We may have to be brave enough to show our wounds and not be ashamed to give them the air they need to breath and recover.