Wounded Healer
“In our own woundedness, we can become a source of life for others.” - Henri Nouwen
Once I saw a sign that read, “Spellers of the World UNTIE!” It was funny, but also rang so true for me, because I reverse letters and numbers all the time.
A few years ago, I was watching YouTube videos with a friend, and reading their titles out loud. For some reason, the word “elegant” became “eggplant”, “now” became “own”, “gateway” became “getaway”, and “sexist” became “sexiest” (which may have been some kind of Freudian thing. Who knows?)
At first these seemed like the funny mistakes we make while texting because autocorrect has changed our original word. That day, “Autocorrect” was seated to my left calling out my errors as I read. It was good natured fun, until something struck a nerve, and I suddenly became quiet. Tears formed in my eyes, and when I tried to speak, I began to sob.
“Did I hurt your feelings?”, they asked with an apology and listening ear.
“No.” I said. “They were already hurt and something you said touched them.”
I described for them, how I felt like a little boy in school again, where I originally learned to never read out loud. And where I consciously gave up on reading, and compensated by finding other ways to be informed. Listening was one of those ways. Hiding it was another.
I think the tears were really about childhood pains long hidden away, and needing to be acknowledged and mourned. They reflect the loneliness of believing that I’m the only one who can’t do this, and the shame of feeling like there’s something wrong with me, and the fear of being humiliated if others find out. It’s exhausting.
No one talked about reading disabilities in those days. They just said, “You learn how to read by reading.” Of course you do, but like most things in life, it’s just not that simple or straight forward.
What seems universal to me is that everyone has experienced wounds and pains in childhood and beyond, even those of us in the healing professions. Henri Nouwen calls us “Wounded Healers” and says that “In our own woundedness, we can become a source of life for others.”
The source of my woundedness taught me how to listen. The presence of my friend taught me how life-giving compassionate listening can feel. And that gives me hope and a sense of wellbeing for today.
Wishing You Peace Now and Always,
Joe