Turn Your Wounds into Wisdom
Quote by Oprah Winfrey
Quote Series — Essay One
Our past is a textbook. Each chapter defining who we are right now. When you go back to Chapter One, what will you find? What was the first lesson that started you on the journey to yourself? Wounds can provide much wisdom if we are willing to examine them with a critical eye.
When I was a young girl, I was always running around our home. If I wasn’t running around in the house, I was running around in our backyard. I’d play tag with my brother or chase stray cats. I’d climb onto our back porch and jump down onto the storm cellar doors. I’d especially liked running down the long path that led from our backyard to the front of our house.
One warm afternoon in July, I was playing with my brother. It was Saturday and the cartoons were over for the day. Our mother had told us to go outside and play because she didn’t want us in the house all day watching television. So off we went to explore our backyard.
As birds chirped in the trees and the stray cats scurried out of our way, my brother and I played tag. We laughed as we chased each other around the yard, onto the back porch, and back into the yard again. A light breeze blew through the trees, rustling the leaves. Red petals flew off from the rose bush that grew in one corner of the yard. The petals swirled around us as we chased each other.
My brother and I decided to run down the long, concrete path that led to the front of the house. As we ran up and down, we could hear our mother reminding us to be careful and not run out into the street. We barely heard her warning as we laughed and shouted on the path. We continued our game of tag, arms outstretched and hands reaching for each other.
I twirled away from my brother’s grasp and ran down the path at full speed. I was too fast. My long legs were leading me on a collision course with the street. I quickly realized I had to stop. But my sandals weren’t designed for quick stops. I slid on the gravel from the concrete.
My arms flew out to break my fall. My knees buckled and scraped the concrete. I actually tumbled head over heel and landed on the edge of the path. The world was spinning around me. I heard my brother yelling. I remember telling him to get mon. He ran past me and into the front of the house.
Mom came out quickly, fussing about how we should have been more careful on the concrete. I laid like a crumpled heap on the ground, my right arm, and both knees throbbing. Mom gathered me up and carried me to her bedroom. She had a huge queen size bed. Mom placed me on the bed and told me to relax. My brother came in the room to check on me and then went to his room.
The bedroom was still spinning. My head was throbbing. I looked at my knees which were scraped and bleeding. I looked at my right arm and saw two welts forming. I laid on my mother’s bed for over an hour. The afternoon spun into the evening. The sun faded behind the curtains in my mother’s room. I finally started to feel better.
I never ran down the concrete path — at least not in sandals — again. My knees healed but the welts remained. Even as an adult, the welts are still prominent. It was a lesson in slowing down and being more mindful of my surroundings. Every time I look at the welts, I’m reminded to stop and take a break. It tells me to catch my breath and assess where I am in whatever I’m doing.
Sometimes I forget to do that. I’m a mom, an educator, and a writer. My life is full of personal and professional obligations. There’s always something I need to do at home or at work. Even when I take a break at my school, there are usually three or four things that need my attention. If I can catch ten minutes of me-time I’m lucky. But I need to slow down and remember the lessons of my past. The wound on my right arm is a daily reminder.
