Most of us have that one wound we most struggle to see, to understand.
It follows us all our life; festering, bleeding, unrelenting, not wanting to heal. Sometimes it will disappear for a while, only to resurface when we least expect—in our relationships with lovers, with loved ones. It appears almost always when we feel it’s finally gone.
I am referring to the wound of all wounds: scars we received from our parents.
For me, it was a father wound.