So I have had this notion in my head for a while – the way people deal with hurt. It seems quite poignant as today holds a great significance to me and the long, arduous journey from then to now. Time. That is always the answer isn’t it? Time will heal all wounds. Once again, the sayings of yester year bare little or no symbolism to me anymore and in my attempts to keep myself from the raggedy edge at this time in my life, I decided to write it out instead of drinking it out.
So let’s deconstruct this concept of time healing wounds. In terms of physical wounds yes time does heal those that can be healed and it does an amazing job at doing so. But can a broken heart be compared to a broken leg? I don’t think so. Not even metaphorically, and I am a whore for a good metaphor (I also like rhymes). No, all time has ever served to do is to break me down and force me to rebuild, but time only helped with the demolition of my old self and stood idly by as another far more competent construct helped me to rebuild myself.
Emotional wounds never heal and however much you like to think they do or can, there will always be a moment long after the original pain was caused, that it flares up in a brutally real way, reinforcing the fact that even though you thought that wound had become a scar, it was in fact always there and always bleeding.
True emotional trauma cannot be repaired and this is why we blame people’s personalities on what they had to face once upon a time. As a lover of metaphors let’s take this one – think of time as the salt that is rubbed into the wound, as time goes on it slowly runs out of salt and the wound stops stinging, but it is still there gaping at you from a place in the back of your mind only waiting for a convenient moment to converse with time once more and make its inescapable presence known once more.
If emotional wounds really did heal, they wouldn’t be so goddamn easy to tear apart at a moment’s notice. Something that hasn’t caused you pain in years can suddenly and drastically come back into your life in a matter of seconds with a piece of good news to some that is devastating to you, or with a chance meeting that would eventually scar itself as another indefinable regret. In my vast experience with the varied spectrum of emotional lacerations, there is only one construct that has ever served to distract me from the burns inflicted by those who chose to aid the demolition of myself.
I suppose you could say I was broken by time and healed by hurt. New, fresh pain brings with it many more scars that you can pretend are one day going to heal, but along with this new born pain, there is also the delightful relief of distraction. The reason we become so involved with the healing process of our emotional wounds is because whilst they are fresh they are hard to ignore, and they cause us an indescribable amount of intense agony in those fledgling stages of trauma when the skin is still raw and time has a full palm of salt to season the sadness.
New hurt serves to distract you from the old hurt and in this respect, time does help to take away the pain of old wounds but only by replacing them with new ones that it can torture. With each new painful experience that comes to us, a new wound is open and whilst it screams at us we cannot forget that it is there but it takes away the acknowledgement that consumed us in regards to the old wounds that are temporarily forgotten.
Now I don’t suggest that if you are going through a rough patch in your life that you should go out and find something new to inflict pain upon yourself, but what I am saying is that everyone has the ability to distract themselves but some are better than others. I for example, fell to writing when my other methods of distraction from the emotional wounds became too dangerous to myself and those around me, hence the reason why I write about such seemingly ambiguous but emotionally charged subjects.
I write to distract myself from the wounds that I can feel peeling in the back of my mind and my hands fly faster across my keyboard as I run faster and faster, trying to beat them and trying to beat the monkey that sits on my back with its whip firmly grasped between its crude, leathery fingers. In essence what drugs, alcohol, sex, video games, reading, writing – what distraction does is it allows us to take time out of the equation and deal with hurt on our terms and once you figure out that time is actually a hindrance to the healing process, convincing you that its helping when in fact its only hurting, then you will feel much better about wasting on other pursuits that will genuinely help you to heal.
This time last year I wrote the following –
Maybe some people aren’t meant to heal. Maybe some people deserve to remember their scars. Maybe it’s the pain that stalks them every day that stops them going back on their own promises, that reminds them that they are bad people trying to be good. I’ll keep my scars, healed or hurting, because they are the only thing that remind me that through all of it my heart never stopped beating however much I may have wanted it to.
A year has passed now and as if in testament to my disagreement with time as a healer, I still agree with what I said in regards to my own emotional scars last year. I believe there comes a point, when the swelling goes down and the scab peels away when you can actually survey the damage of the wound that’s pain held you captive for so long.
When this time comes you will see that in comparison to those that are fresh and still bleeding, the old ones aren’t as bad as they originally seemed and living with them, healed or hurting, becomes a far more amiable task.