My Wound: (anonymous)
My wound does not define me
But it made me who I am
Wait, hold on, back up
My wound most definitely defines me
And forces my experience
Down a predetermined path (sort of)
No matter how much I struggle against it
Or try to change its course
It carries me wherever it wants to go.
Why is this my fate? Why is this my lot in life?
It’s not my fault…but sometimes it is
How do I live with this scar, this mark on my being?
My wound has caused me pain
But it can also act as my protection
When I cannot deal with certain things
My wound acts as my shield and lets me hide behind it
It hurts me, but it also helps me
If only it would soothe me, heal me.
What is my wound? It’s difficult to say
Am I strong enough to name it? (admit it? embrace it?)
To name it would give it power over me
Or perhaps identifying it would take that power away.
I was made to feel insignificant and perhaps inadequate in some way
Putting pen to paper and writing down that word insignificant
Was harder than I thought – it brings so much baggage with it
This word, this feeling, it cuts me to the core
I want to understand why?
Why did this happen?
Why does it hurt so?
Why do I care?
It’s scary to ask these questions
It puts me in a place where I don’t like to be
I do not matter.
My thoughts, my ideas, my words, my presence, my being
Do not matter.
No matter how hard I try to get your attention
No matter how much noise I make
Or how much trouble I cause
It is not enough
Never enough to be heard.
Acting out can bring some relief
Because negative attention is still attention
And some is better than none.
I poke, poke, poke, to get a reaction
And then run and hide.
Some attention is better than none?
Is this still the case?
When I pick a fight, and then avoid this fight
My wound is rearing its familiar head.
Despite the pain, the hurt that this difficult spot provides
It also offers me something positive
But I must be brave enough to face it head on
Because in doing so I can learn
I can start to understand and maybe even
Begin to heal?
I don’t know…not yet maybe
My wound still feels fresh
Stopping to look at it
Has created a heightened awareness
An acknowledgement of its presence
Makes it all the more real
Ignoring it does not diminish its effects
I worry sometimes that it will swallow me whole
That I will disappear into its depths
It would be an effortless thing to do
Simply accepting my feelings of insignificance could be easy
And sometimes it is awfully tempting.
But I believe I will continue to unpack it, and live with it,
And learn from it.
Will I ever be free from it?
Will I ever understand it?
Well, I am really trying to
I’m still not sure how to get from start to finish
But I’m trudging (sometimes grudgingly) along
There are hiccups along the way
There are things that I do not want to face
Yet I have faith that I will get there
Some way, somehow, some day
My path is not predetermined
I hold that responsibility
It belongs to me and me alone
Yet I still need help sometimes
In navigating this process, this journey, this life
My goal, my dream, what my scar tissue will look like
Is being able to say to myself
You are enough.
Breathe in. breathe out.
You are enough.