Your distinction between the wound and the scar is exactly it for me. I believe that when we stay with it, the language we learn in real time from inside the ache is different. It's closer to what's actually happening versus what we hope will happen. It's the first place we encounter the truth. And that may mean we're not sure what we're learning just yet, but we know something expansive is happening.
We need each other in the wound too, not just solely on the other side of it.
Also, I read your first full comment (I got it in my email), and I just want to say please don’t ever feel like you have to edit down. I resonate with the first version of your comment so much! Especially when you talked about female platonic love (carrying a lot of wounds there) and this part, “For me, writing from the wound while you're still in it is also not about bleeding on people—it's about not waiting until I'd metabolized the grief or could speak about it in past tense without my throat closing.” Thank you so much for sharing this perspective.🤎
This resonates in a way that, dunno, most advice about vulnerability doesn't. The distinction between speaking from the wound vs. the scar captures something I've struggled to articulate, and your framing of tenderness as strength is really powerful. I remember writing about my expereinces with anxiety while still in it, and people said to wait untill I had answers, but that raw honesty connected more deeply than any retrospective could.
Whew, I feel this! All of this! Thank you for your words, Mariah! I too will keep writing from the wound at it is indeed a beautiful thing.
Thank you for reading, we need more wound writers!
Needed this reminder, to not only communicate things that are “finished”.
This resonates so deeply.
Your distinction between the wound and the scar is exactly it for me. I believe that when we stay with it, the language we learn in real time from inside the ache is different. It's closer to what's actually happening versus what we hope will happen. It's the first place we encounter the truth. And that may mean we're not sure what we're learning just yet, but we know something expansive is happening.
We need each other in the wound too, not just solely on the other side of it.
Also, I read your first full comment (I got it in my email), and I just want to say please don’t ever feel like you have to edit down. I resonate with the first version of your comment so much! Especially when you talked about female platonic love (carrying a lot of wounds there) and this part, “For me, writing from the wound while you're still in it is also not about bleeding on people—it's about not waiting until I'd metabolized the grief or could speak about it in past tense without my throat closing.” Thank you so much for sharing this perspective.🤎
Wheeew, yes!!!
Beautifully written and makes me think deeper about the wounds and scars I have. How to hold and carry them…🤎
Thank you so much.
This resonates in a way that, dunno, most advice about vulnerability doesn't. The distinction between speaking from the wound vs. the scar captures something I've struggled to articulate, and your framing of tenderness as strength is really powerful. I remember writing about my expereinces with anxiety while still in it, and people said to wait untill I had answers, but that raw honesty connected more deeply than any retrospective could.
Yes, the answers are formed in the process. Or maybe, more questions. But it's all a part of the journey.
I think writing from the wound is quite courageous. It is saying "look what is happening to me, and I have no idea how this is all going to turn out".
So many people feel ashamed when they are in the wound. Your words offer a loving presence to those people (me included).
Yes, I agree. Thank you so much for reading.