tending wounds

I am tired of tending wounds. No, I don't want to band-aid my emotional owies with sex or alcohol or any of the other wonderful things that would certainly provide short term relief. But I do want a reprieve. I hate that the wounds must be aired out and left untouched, unpicked before they heal well. Some days it seems as they will never ever go away. And those are the days that I pick. and the healing is delayed that much longer. If I could just find the patience to let them be. To not touch them myself or let anyone else tear the scabs off in a rough and tumble game of "choose your own ending" relationship experiments. Or to not poke at anyone else's wounds to see how much I can make them ooze. We are sick people. Our fascination with healing, or preventing it, or at the very least, prolonging it. Where is our aptitude for healing words and touches that don't complicate the wound or compound the scars? When and where did we lose that? Or did we ever have it. How I long for the power to touch the hurt of a person I care for and see it healed up. To whisper "Vulnera Sanatur" and have them all whole and unhurt again. Where is my wand? And why am I so helpless in the healing?