“We are wounded healers.”
My mentor while engaging in a sensitive topic conversation told me this.
The words stuck in my head and have got me thinking about me.
Yes, I am a wounded healer.
Piecing my life’s experiences from childhood to adulthood validates the empathy I carry for others.
Had I lived a life less wounded growing up, I probably would not be volunteering service in Crisis or learning to be a Life Coach.
Every individual I help, in turn helps me by healing a scar within.
Every voice I listen to reminds me of my own voice crying for help.
I see now that help works effectively when given wholeheartedly, free from manipulation and obligation.
It’s no wonder I eventually found myself wanting to take up sign language.
I never questioned why God brought this upon me.
It’s clear to me now.
I yearn to be the voice for those unable to hear, unable to speak.
But I do recall what it felt like to be labeled “the difficult one.”
Sometimes my mind takes me back to moments where I see images of emotional unrest and chaos.
I know better now.
I paid many a hefty price just to learn to undo what needed to be undone.
Now I am a warrior whose goal is to aid the wounded.