The protocol for an infected wound

I once read that “the wound is where the light comes in.” It didn’t fully resonate because I’ve never met a post-traumatic growth narrative that I trust.

I think there is something to be said, though,  about the depths of our sorrow building trenches that our joy can later fill and overflow.

That is all a bit of a digression from what I am here to say.

Recent events have me thinking about the importance of taking off a bandaid, looking at an infected wound, and deciding you love the limb enough to clean out the wound. We aren’t getting very far with our approach of wrapping wounds before we know what they need. We are taking leaps and bounds backwards by putting neosporin on something that needs a wash, fresh air, some yarrow, and a clean bandage. 

It hurts to clean out infected wounds.

You see things you don’t want to see and smell things you don’t want to smell. 

Last week looked us square in the eye and promised us that if we don’t take things seriously, we will lose more than a limb. And I know we love us because I know that we would rather endure the temporary discomfort of cleaning a wound – of finding our way back to love – than an eternity of tending to a painful infection. 

Let’s be clear, this isn’t a call for a purge. It is a call to acknowledge that we are intertwined. To go anywhere, we have to go together. To go anywhere, we have to be honest about what is keeping us stuck. We have to let the light shine on our wounds so we can get a clear sense of the work ahead.