What Is A Wound?
Embracing the scabs that define us.
I turned 40 last year and mid-life has truly reared its head. I didn’t know how I would react to this new milestone so I’ve been surprised by some of the side effects.
For one, I’ve started having what I’ve lovingly named ‘mini panics’ at random times. Often right before I’m about to sleep, or when I’m thinking about all the experiences I still want to have. My therapist categorises them as “checks and balances” – circuit breakers that remind me I’m alive – especially since I’ve witnessed so many people I care about pass away.
For two, I realised the sheer breadth of experiences I’ve had and how heavy they can be sometimes. From breakups to goals achieved, bucket list experiences to unexpected windfalls, there’s so much to integrate that at times I get overwhlemed by the volume of it all.
And for three, I feel like I’m JUST getting started. This one is like a firecracker under me on the days when I forget how lucky I am to be here – and the days where all the leftover pain from the above encompass me.
This ‘existential crisis’ has led me to ask all kinds of questions, so let’s start with one of the most formative.
Creative Self-Inquiry
“What is a wound and how do I heal it?”
“What is a wound…”
It’s a disruption, an injury, a break, a fisher, a gap, a glitch, a liminal space. It’s what’s left behind after something you loved has left you. Or a reminder of something that should never have been there in the first place.
Where creativity is concerned, a wound can be:
Physical: a broken limb, strained back, autoimmune disease
Emotional: imposter syndrome, fear of being seen, rejection, betrayal, or
Spiritual: lack of meaning, loss of faith, missplaced intentions.
We all carry wounds because we are alive. Many people choose to ignore their wounds and wonder why their lives stagnate. But those who are brave enough to tend to their wounds often find themselves living full, expansive days.
The wounding was never the problem: what happens afterwards is where our attention must gravitate.
“…and how…”
Last week I wrote that if we ask ‘how’ in the creative process we’re somewhat missing the point. The same applies to wounds and healing. The ‘how’ can keep you trapped for decades. I’ll lean on a biological process here to explain.
After some physical injuries, a scab will form to cover and protect a wound from infection and further damage. That’s easy enough to understand when you cut yourself), but if it’s an emotional wound, things get murky pretty fast.
Physical scabs heal faster when they’re kept moist and covered. As a kid, you were probably told not to pick at scabs, because it slows down the healing process. It’s a different story, however, for emotional scabs.
“…do I heal it?”
Healing an emotional wound isn’t as straightforward as putting on a cream and bandage. It’s a non-linear journey that requires superhuman levels of patience and self-compassion, along with actively acknowledging pain and feeling your feelings.
The good news is that you don’t have to do it alone: lean on your peeps, talking to a therapist, journal it out, or even channel that emotion into creating something useful or beautiful.
What if the goal wasn’t to heal wounds, but to integrate them into the story of who we are? Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from going round and roung the trauma coaster is that the quality of your life is directly impacted by the stories you choose to tell about it.
Not in a ‘toxic positivity’ or ‘delulu is the solulu’ way, but in a ‘I went through this experience and here’s what it taught me’ kind of way. While we don’t often get to choose the wound, we can choose how we carry it with us going forward – this is how scabs heal… and not become permanent scars.
You get to write the new story, so why not make it an empowering one
Human beings are meaning-making machines: it’s one of the things we do best. And while the world is addicted to the 24/7 news cycle of destruction, your inner life doesn’t need to be as tumultuous.
I strongly believe there’s a lesson in everything if you’re willing to seek it out. Every wound makes your story more unique, nuanced, and harder to replicate – and that, my friends, is fertile soil for making cool shit.
Creatively yours,
Dr Maz xoxo
PS: Wounds can also happen after something good too: achieving a goal, finishing a creative project, or even moving house. You get to decide and create how they live on – take your time to find the right vessel.