Old Wounds

I cut my finger last week. I was cutting some tomatoes or something for dinner and sort of accidentally stabbed my thumb with the tip of the knife. The skin was broken and it started bleeding, even though it was only a small cut. A plaster wasn't necessary. Pretty soon the cut had sealed again, leaving a small ridge of hardened skin. But although the skin had healed over, the pain was still there. Because the knife had pierced deeper than the skin level, the flesh was rather sore and remained that way for several days, so much so that a week later it was still a little tender to the touch.

But though it was obviously, albeit slowly, on the mend, it started to annoy me that it was taking so long to heal properly. I knew it still hurt a little, but I'd prod at it regardless, as if my prodding would somehow spur the skin cells into regenerative action. So what did I do to curb my annoyance? Rather than leave it as it was, I had to pick at the hard skin and open the wound up again. So now the weird bit of skin has gone, but it's sore in a different way. What did any of this achieve? I'm not sure, but this inability to leave things that are perhaps best left alone seems to be a theme with me.

Why can't I just let some things be? Lately I've been wondering if I've just opened up an old wound by revisiting a situation I thought I had left behind several weeks ago. I know I might end up causing more damage; I know that I could make those emotional scars that I already had that little bit worse; I know that it could be a bad idea to reopen what I had thought was closed. But I also know that my fear of the potential for damage doesn't currently outweigh my desire to soothe my irritation. So I continue to prod and provoke, hoping that maybe the wound will heal completely this time, taking my irriation and discomfort with it.

Opening up old wounds is probably never a good idea. Some things are just going to take time to heal and that's that.