I recently burnt my wrist on the oven. I was in a hurry to get food out of it as I had forgotten the time and was concerned that it might be burnt or at least dried out. In my haste, I didn’t bend down quite far enough and the top of my wrist pushed against the top of the oven. It was for the briefest of times but long enough to cause a burn.
The burn has healed well. The burnt layer of skin peeled off leaving shiny and new pink skin exposed. As I was contemplating the brilliance of the body for its ability to heal, it occurred to me that it was like a metaphor for my life. I have recently gone through a difficult time exacerbated by Covid-19 and all that has been heralded with its arrival – lockdown, isolation, masks, fear, loss of jobs, anxiety, depression. Things came to breaking point and I am now on the other side of breaking and slowly making my way back to wholeness. The day where things came to a head was like being burned. I was in the fire and it was painful. There has been a need to tend to my wounds with care and attention, acknowledging that you cannot speed up the healing process, but you can help it. The dead skin has been sloughed off and I am now emerging – a delicate layer of new skin enfolding me. It is still fragile and I have to remind myself often that healing takes time. I hope that eventually the scar fades or disappears completely – just a distant memory of a time when life overwhelmed me and I chose to abandon myself.