Listening to a conversation recently I became aware of just how self-indulgent we can become in sharing experiences of personal woundedness. The temptation to portray these experiences as egocentric badges of recognition is a pretty strong one. Celebrities are especially good at this with their added little condiments of embellishment.
I remember an age of suppression and concealment when you never spoke of such things. Now, you simply blurt them out announcing them in the neon lights of life to all and sundry. Strange how we even make our woundedness serve our egotistical needs.
I suppose the truth lies somewhere between the two, mixed with a great big dollop of congruence, sincerity and discretion.