THE WOUNDS OF CHILDHOOD

The wounds of childhood run deep. They run broad and wide and are left to fester when the light of understanding, compassion, acknowledgement, and love are nonexistent.  In the immediate aftermath of injury, tears may be shed, cries and protests may erupt, but childhood wounds are often covered up with ignorance, indifference or cruelty. The depth of the injury is ignored. Some pretend it doesn’t exist, or it  has never happened. The sands of time, layer upon layer, muffle the sound of the broken heart, disguise and bury deep the bleeding soul. Healing cannot occur. Our of sight, beneath a layer of scar tissue, the broken heart remains.

AN ACCIDENT VICTIM

I received a laceration to my hand in an accident that has a left a scar. Shards of glass from the window I instinctively braced myself against as the car rolled…and rolled…sliced the tendon between my pinky and ring finger as it shattered. When the car came to a standstill and I found a small portion of my senses I knew my hand was injured. Though I could not see it for the blood, I knew my fingers were damaged. For a moment I even thought I had lost my pinky, so keen our body awareness that operates beyond thought.

The young surgeon who attended me at the trauma center was able to repair the damage. He insured me that he enjoyed the challenge and an opportunity to be creative as he attempted to repair something not ordinarily repairable. I was grateful for his enthusiasm. After two hours of surgery, twelve weeks of bi-weekly physical therapy and home treatment, I regained partial use of my fingers. It was more than a year before the pain stopped and two years to forget about the discomfort and inconvenience of the now minor malfunction. This wound, was a simple, fairly obvious wound to attend to and heal, in the overall scheme of things.

DEEPER WOUNDS OVERLOOKED

Deeper wounds, the ones that are out of sight and unattended, discounted or overlooked do not receive the treatment they need, the support of a team of experts, the attention of skilled rehabilitation specialists. No, we as individuals are left to carry the wounds of childhood with us, live with them and attend to them in whatever way we can.

The accident left me with a TBI and PTSD. Both were not diagnosed or attended to in my post-accident medical treatment. It wasn’t until my hand began to heal that it came to my attention that I had been crippled in a far more significant way by the accident. I had not lost my finger but I had lost my life as I knew it, my sense of security, my ability to trust myself or the world around me. I could not think. Nor could I remember things for five minutes. I could not plan or execute, and I did not leave the house for more than a year.

In that car, that day, I had been a sitting duck. I was a passenger in the car without control over any part of what happened to me. A victim in the truest sense of the word. Despite the pain and anguish I experienced during the years since, it does not compare to the anguish I suffered for a lifetime prior to the accident You see, I lived with buried wounds day in and day out that festered as I battled depression, anxiety, self-doubt, deep, deep despair, fear, insecurity, uncertainty, failure, failure, and more failure. That accident shook everything loose in one fell swoop. It turned me inside out and upside down, literally and figuratively. What remained was an opportunity to pick through the ruble and begin healing the wounds of childhood.

AND THE HEALING BEGINS

One by one, piece by piece, bit by bit, day by day I sort through and heal, sort through and heal. If the truth were told I’m still afraid to let go of the deepest numbness that replaced feelings too intense to hold, too lethal to bear. Yet, I know this is the only way to continue healing the wounds of childhood. One must open up the wound, must shower it with attention, understanding, and above all love, allowing tears to flow, anger to surge so that healing can take place. If we keep a bandage on a cut it is slower to heal and if we leave it on too long it may never heal at all.

Ripping off the bandage is painful. It is best done with someone who loves us and who can hold space for us. It is not something that can or should be done alone. Allowing love in is part of the healing process. Allowing others to care for us, to hold us and touch our hearts again is what we all long for. It’s what we all require.

So, how long does it take a childhood wound to heal? It takes as long as it takes, but it begins when we first notice that a wound exists that needs attention. The healing process moves forward each time we shine the light of truth, understanding, love, acceptance and forgiveness on the hurting place. It ends when we no longer think about it.