I am a wound

March 13, 2014

Sometimes I wish I couldn’t feel. 


I know that is a bold statement, but it is the truth. I would gladly give up experiencing happiness if it meant I no longer had to suffer through heart-wrenching pain and sadness, which unfortunately for me is the emotion that occurs more often. Now, if you have read this blog before, you know that I suffer from depression. It sucks. Sometimes, though, I am not experiencing my sadness. One of my best friends told me that I am tender-hearted and I take on other’s pain. I believe she is right. I am the ultimate definition of sensitive and emotional. This makes it hard to function. 


I feel like I am a wound. Sometimes I scab up and think that I am almost healed, and then something happens. It doesn’t necessarily have to happen directly to me, though. It can be a bad day for my mom or a hard situation for a friend, etc. and it RIPS me open. No longer am I a scab, but I am a full on open wound. I am vulnerable. I am in pain. I am hurting. Hurting for others. Hurting for myself. Hurting because my naive ideals are non-existent. Hurting because people aren’t perfect. Hurting because others are going to disappoint you. Hurting because life is not what you might have planned. I hurt and I bleed out. Eventually though I clean up. I bandage the wound. My patched up self takes on the world. I lead, I am involved. I succeed.

Then, the band aid falls off, and for awhile I think I am going to be fine. I am going to heal. 


Until someone, whether that is a stranger or a friend or myself, unintentionally or intentionally rips the scab off. And the process starts all over. And I think to myself, will it ever mend? And even if it does, will the scars it undoubtedly leaves be any easier to deal with? I guess I just need thicker, tougher skin.

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One Response to “I am a wound”

  1. terryhjn Says:

    you got that from your dear mother. i also take on everyone’s pain and it is crippling. its just how we are wired. i was a mess yesterday because i read about a puppy that died. i know how you feel because it happens to me every day. it hurts and then it lets up a bit and something else comes along that kills you. a friend once told me that i have to stop taking on the pain of the world but i don’t know how and you don’t either. you end up exhausted and annoyed, bitter and angry – even resentful, but still can’t stop.
    i am sorry i gave you shitty genes but i do love you so!


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