from the wound

vs the scar.

I am tender to the point of being bruised — frequently, easily, and without rush. As I was thinking about this more the other day, a thought crossed my mind about how I show up in the wound, as a writer especially because that is my way of processing, of naming, of holding.

I understand that we are told to speak from the scar, not from the wound. But I refuse to believe the only wisdom can be birthed from hindsight. I refuse to believe that we must silence the wound and only extend our stories once it has scarred over. Or that we must be able to neatly articulate the ache, the grief, the anguish.

Talk from the wound. Write from the wound. Bear the wound.

There is so much that I have discovered right within the wound, and sometimes I want to be vulnerable, as a connecting point. I want to name it, while still in it. I’m not talking about speaking from a place of leakage — bleeding over everyone I come in contact with, causing harm, or dragging others into my storms against their will. But speaking consciously from what hurts. Saying, “I’m here and this is the texture of my heart right now and I may not know what’s on the other side yet but this is me in it.”

I want to honor my humanity that way. And how can I do that if I have to act like I don’t carry wounds that stretch far and wide and extend deep to my core?

I believe speaking from the wound holds a power that speaking from the scar doesn’t. In the wound, we are human. From the scar, many position themselves as experts.

From the scar, we sometimes assume we have all the answers. In the wound, we accept that we are without the answers, but we’re honest about our search for them. And we accept that sometimes all we’ll find is more questions. In the wound, we see the journey of the healing unfold, and I believe that’s a gift. To see in real time how someone’s heart softens. To see how someone finds joy after mourning.

From the scar, we can sometimes forget to be empathetic. But in the wound, we remain tender.

And so I decide that I will continue to talk from the wound, write from the wound, and bear the wound. Consciously, from a place of being honest in its transition from wound to scar. I will move between the cities and countries of these wounds with my words and with my heart. Remaining human, remaining tender, through it all.

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