Let Your Ugly Out

We All Need a Place to Be Wounded

Last week I was catching up with a friend, unpacking all of life’s many complications and traumas, as seems to be au courant in these times. At one point we agreed, “You need someone you can let your ugly out with.”

We were discussing a mutual friend who – for all his many other faults – you could also say whatever you were feeling in your darkest of hours and he never judged you. Not everyone you will meet has that quality. Some will judge; some won’t want to deal. But, as my friend very astutely pointed out, not being able to tell someone what you’re feeling doesn’t mean that you’re not feeling it, or that those feelings will magically disappear. In fact, it will most likely only get worse, as your feelings pinball off the inside of your skull getting bigger and bigger each time they hit the sides, like some Harry Potter spell. And the sense of not being able to tell someone, of having to keep it inside because of the fear of what people will think when you do, only makes you feel more broken, more isolated, more wrong.

“Letting your ugly out” seemed to be the theme of conversations that followed. We’re all experiencing deep feelings that are not all that unusual, and yet many times we seem to be unable to talk about them in “polite company.” And that’s a hell of a bind. Like all animals, we need a safe place to be wounded. And I’m starting to understand why animals sneak off alone to be weak and die. Just like being that vulnerable around other animals will get you attacked,  being vulnerable around other people can hurt you further, too.