I burned my hand a few days ago, honestly i was overdue for a misfortune. From time to time something odd happens; espresso machine blows up in my face, eat something that is a bit overripe, swallow a bug. it had been a solid year since a shenanigan found it's way into my life. i was overdue. So Saturday morning i had the grand idea to cook fish. And in the process of baking the fish i burned my hand.
It had been quite sometime since i had experienced pain like this sharp and persistent. The old folks would say you gotta get the heat out of the burn. I put all sorts of condiments on my hand to get relief; Mustard, lemon juice, cocoa butter, shea butter, regular butter ( i have no idea why). And no matter what i put on it, it still hurt. It was going to hurt, regardless of my actions i had already suffered the burn and there was nothing i could do to make the pain go away.
So i stuck my hand in a bowl of water, said my prayers, and hoped for relief. from time to time i would look at my hand to see if there were any visible indications of the pain i had inflicted upon myself. No sooner than i removed my hand from the water than the shooting pain of my burns returned. After a few days and two agonizing trips to CVS my hand started to feel better. I could finally see the damage that was left behind, the damage that i did. I begin to pick, i am a picker, i pick. To pull at burnt skin, to touch my wounds to pick at them.
I have never allowed any wounds to heal, i always find a reason to pick at them, to make them bleed, to make them hurt. i find a way to sabotage my healing to feel the security of pain again. I find ways to deny myself relief to steal my own recovery. I have made scratches turn to scars and bumps to bruises because of my insatiable desire to pick at the parts of me that are in pain.
There are some injuries that should not have left scars, some cuts that should have healed over, i should not have to bear the witness of my wounds on my body. But I never learned how to accept the ugliness of the in between times. The time between my injury and healing. And because i never learned how to cope with the in between i don't know what it is to be healed. i don't know what healing looks like. I don't know if i walk away from this without a scar, i don't know if my skins stays this tender and smooth. i am not sure if i will continue to have what appears to be impact wounds lying just under my skin. I don't know what healing looks like.
So I ask myself is heal still possible if i don't know what i am looking for? How do i know if i have arrived? What is the sign that i am past the ugly in between times of my healing? When do we make it to healing.
For far too many all we know is the pain of our wounds. Healing is only a construction of imagination and aspiration. we have been dealt harsh blows and in some cases exacerbated our own injuries and now we pick at our pain because dysfunction and damage have replaced health and healing. We carry scars and scar others because pain has become home. It does not feel good, it just feels .. and when you don't know what healing feels like, can't see the progress of your predicament, and can't hold hope in your hands so you surrender to pass the pain around.
I look at my finger one more time, at the deep burn marks left there and this time instead of picking myself apart i begin to dream. I dream of a day when these burns will only be a distant memory. I dream of a time when the pain will be forgotten. i construct a reality where what i went through doesn't live on me. I may not know what healing looks like but i know how to dream. i can dream of a space where what injured me is not used to identify me. I can dream. I don't have the requisite experience to tell you what healing looks like, but i can tell you what healing looks like in my dreams.
Healing is when my flesh is not the context for my treatment. Healing is when i can see the potential of my community rather than just see the problem. healing is when i can love without fear , instead of fearing to be loved. Healing is when i can be brave and weak. Healing is when my heart doesn't break so much, or free to break as much as it needs. Healing is when my words give life and render no sorrow....
So i will keep watching my wounds, bearing the ugly in between time, resisting the urge to pick myself apart. And maybe i will finally know what it means to be healed.
