Sometimes, I will catch myself rubbing an old scar, or scratching a new one, without fully realizing that I am doing so.  My understanding is that rubbing a wound serves to soothe and protect the wounded area from further damage.  When we get hurt, our hands instinctively go to the injured area, again to protect and soothe.

There are times when we will rub or scratch a scar that has faded as well.  We are just so used to rubbing that wound, we keep going to it from time to time.  Our brains haven’t quite let go of this habit we acquired as the wound healed.

I think our psychological wounds can be a bit like this.  When we get hurt, we turn our attention to the affected area, assessing the damage, protecting it from further damage, and then spending time with it as it heals.  This is natural and healthy.

We rub and scratch at these wounds as they heal.  Most of time, these scars fade as well.  If they didn’t, we wouldn’t be able to function.  I don’t know about you, but there are times when I will find myself picking at an old wound, one that I had perhaps thought was gone for good.

Something can trigger a memory or a feeling that was associated with the hurt.  Rub, scratch.  Sometimes I sit with the memory for a bit, turn it over in my head, and then dismiss it.  Sometimes I just have a thought like, “That’s weird.  Haven’t thought about that in a while.  Huh.” and then it’s done and gone.

Then there are occasions when an old wound will stick around for a while.  It’ll just pop up, presenting itself like it’s brand-new again.  Sights, sounds, smells, noise, even taste can come back and haunt me for a time.  So, there I’ll sit, rubbing away at something that doesn’t exist, or at least isn’t “supposed” to exist anymore.

Thankfully, these are rare for me.  And my circle of tight friends is small and healthy.  My wife is my number-one go to, and she is full of grace and patience.  I have two other tight friends to confide in, and a wonderful mother.  I have a healthy relationship with the Creator.  And, honestly, that’s enough for me.  More than enough.

Once again, this post didn’t end up like I imagined it would.  That’s fine.  Many of you can relate to this, and I hope and pray you have surrounded yourself only with people who have your best interests and your health in mind.


Husband. Father. Son. Broken, Mended.

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