Suture

I didn’t quite feel whole. I felt like shattered glass, and a large part of me wondered if I would ever feel normal again, but the whole process is part of life, and who could be so arrogant to assume that my pain would be worse than anyone else’s?

The hurt ricochets every once in awhile, not so much the hurt but the insecurity, and sometimes a wound opens again, bleeding and oozing blood and pus, the products that have festered inside for so long that it lay right underneath the surface of the wound, and I bleed easily.

That’s the thing about healing.

It’s not instant.

It is slow. Sometimes, you may regress a little bit before things get a lot better. The process takes longer than expected, and the path is spectacularly unlinear. There are no defined boundaries, no defined timelines. No guide about what will set you off, or calm you down, and it’s a journey all the way.

But at the end of the day, you do heal.

Sometimes the healing isn’t complete, and you’re never the same way you were. But sometimes the way you were wasn’t the best for you either.

And sometimes all you need is the right people to help stitch up your wounds.