The Ways I Teach You to Wound Me
“What if the person you find isn’t just the one who will hurt you—but the one you sculpt into your wound?”
We don’t just stumble onto the person who will wound us; we shape them into that form, like unconscious sculptors of our own pain.
On a deep, primal level our body isn’t simply seeking safety—it’s seeking completion. The wound longs to be felt all the way through. The nervous system remembers the unfinished business: the rejection, the abandonment, the collapse of power.
So when someone comes close enough to touch that original site of rupture, it’s not the mind that leads—it’s the body. It begins its choreography: it subtly provokes, it trains, it casts the other into the role it knows all too well—the punisher, the withdrawer, the betrayer.
We start to evoke the archetype that matches our trauma. Not because we want more suffering—but because some deeper intelligence in us, the primal energetic, wants to finish the dance that was interrupted.
If we stay asleep to this pattern, the cycle repeats. We are re‑injured, and we confirm our story: “See? People always do this to me.” It becomes a tragic loop of proof rather than possibility.
But if we wake up inside the pattern—if we recognize that we are the summoner—then something alchemical begins. The energy that was trapped in fear begins to burn as awareness.
In that moment we realize: “I am not just the one being hurt. I am the one creating the scene of my own awakening.” The partner ceases to be just the abuser and becomes the mirror.
Re-traumatization becomes re‑contact: we get a chance to meet the frozen energy directly, to stay in the fire without collapsing or retaliating. That’s the pulse of Primal Energetic: when life recreates the conditions of our original wound so that we might, this time, stay present.
When we can hold that heat—without acting it out—something extraordinary happens. The energy that once destroyed connection becomes the very current that restores it.
The secret: We don’t heal by avoiding the old pain. We heal by completing it—by learning to stay with the charge until it becomes love again.
You might ask: “How do I stay in the fire?” It starts with noticing: the pattern, the wound, the summons. Then with presence: breathe, feel, don’t react. And finally with courage: choose awareness over reenactment.
So let this be your invitation: next time the wound is lit, don’t run. Don’t cast the other in the old role. Instead breathe into the ache, stay present, and let the pain complete. Because when you do, you transform your story, and you transform the very nature of your intimacy.
