Under My Skin


Bronwyn Lea -Under My Skin4

There is such a thing as radiantly pregnant, and let me assure you I wasn’t it.

On a scale of perfectly-happy to prepare-for-PTSD, the last trimester of my last pregnancy red-lined towards the traumatic. I had gestational diabetes, a baby with a “shadow” on his ultrasound that needed to be “monitored,” and a bad case of SPD (symphasis pubis dysfunction)–which meant the ligaments that were supposed to be keeping my pelvis intact had gotten too stretchy too quickly, causing searing pain for even innocuous actions like standing, walking, or turning over in bed. I was literally falling apart at the seams.

On top of this, my third trimester coincided with an eye infection and a double ear infection, and—being voluminously pregnant and allergic to the best and safest antibiotics—meant that the poor physician in Urgent Care was flummoxed as to how to treat this sniffling, sad patient who couldn’t hear, couldn’t walk, could hardly see, and couldn’t take anything much stronger than Tylenol. He did his best, and was alarmed when not 24 hours after his initial consult I was back in the waiting room. What was it this time? An inflammation in the sole of my foot, now too tender to bear any weight. Tutting quietly, he crouched down behind his magnifying glass to investigate.

A few minutes of digging revealed the problem: something small embedded in the deeper layers of my foot. Not a glass shard or a stone. Not a thorn or splinter. A HAIR. More particularly, a single eighth of an inch of my husband’s hair, burrowed with microscopic fury into my metatarsal. I had trimmed his hair on the weekend, unaware that I was dangerously barefoot. One small hair had escaped the clean-up sweep, clinging to my sole and working its way under my skin where, over the course of the weekend, it caused the surrounding tissues to redden and swell.

The doctor and I bent our heads over the unearthed hair fragment: what a tiny thing to cause so much discomfort! An entire person incapacitated by an eighth of an inch of hair!

But of course, this should come as no surprise. The tiniest things can have the biggest impact if they land in just the right—or the wrong—place. The whole idea of something “getting under our skin” presumes, really, that it is something small but deeply unsettling to us. Something trivial, even. The slightest of slights. The hair-triggers.

A friend asked me recently whether she could take communion in good conscience, given that she had an unresolved issue with a mutual friend of ours. I asked if she’d talked with the friend about it in an effort to work towards Matthew 18 reconciliation. She said no: it didn’t even feel like the issue was such a big one, it almost seemed too trivial to be worthy of a dispute or requiring discipline. It was hard to pin down why this niggled at her so much, she said, but the fact was that it did, and she was tender, inflamed, and in pain.

“Was it even worth dealing with?” she wondered. “Shouldn’t I just get over it?”

Yes, it was worth dealing with it; because no, she couldn’t just get over it. Not by ignoring it, anyway. The slight from our mutual friend may have been unintentional (or even well-intentioned, but misguided), but it had lodged under her skin and was causing pain. She needed a friend to help burrow in the tender area to help identify the niggle. We needed to draw it out and look at it, to name it and acknowledge that while small, it had caused damage. Only then could healing begin.

No matter how thick-skinned we may believe ourselves to be, small things can find their way beneath the surface. I believe God has made us such that, in the natural course of events, sometimes our bodies tenaciously expel the irritants and heal themselves. But not always. Sometimes something gets under our skin and niggles, and even though it’s small, it needs our attention. Sometimes it will take a couple of days of smarting tenderly before we realize this is not a run-of-the-mill irritant. Sometimes we’ll need help to find it. Sometimes it may take more discomfort and more time to deal properly with it.

But it’s still important because sometimes the question is not how big the issue was, but how big its impact was on us. One unkind rebuff, or one thoughtless rejection, or in my case—one tiny hair, can be debilitating if it lodged in just the wrong place and at just the wrong time, and in those situations time alone is not a healer. We need to do some digging.

And in the end, all of us walk a little easier when the things that got under our skin have been dealt with. Let the healing begin.

Bronwyn Lea
Bronwyn Lea is a South-African born writer-mama, raising little people in California and raising eyebrows at bronlea.com. Fueled by grace, caffeine and laughter, she writes about the holy and hilarious in life, faith and family. Connect with her on Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest.
Bronwyn Lea
Bronwyn Lea


  1. I’m with Saskia … There’s a lot of depth here! I so appreciate how you tell God’s story in your own.

  2. Liz Ditty says:

    Oh how I hate the little things that I think shouldn’t bother me! Help from a friend, digging, naming, and healing are such great ideas.

  3. Saskia Wishart says:

    There is a lot of depth going on here. I am challenged to pull out and identify even those tiny things which can fester.

  4. ” sometimes the question is not how big the issue was, but how big its impact was on us. ”

    This is so true- there are times when we need to just get some perspective and realise it’s not a big issue, but others when we need to accept and address the hurt that has been caused regardless. Thanks for calling this out!

    • That’s such a good point: having empathy for how hurt others can be in issues we think of as “not a big deal” is vital for compassion.

  5. Thank you for this!

  6. Nichole Bilcowski Forbes says:

    Yes! It’s so often the little things, left unchecked, that fester and ultimately threaten to derail me. I think my fear of ‘rocking the boat’ or ‘not being nice’ often stops me from taking care of business when matters are small.

    Thanks for this reminder and challenge to deal with the small before it becomes a big!

    • I’m also often afraid of making a situation worse by dealing with little niggles: I felt rather silly about having taken up a doctor’s time and our money for a tiny piece of hair… but I think when we realize that we are limping rather than walking – literally or figuratively – those are important cues for us to pay attend to.

  7. This is a great reminder! I always think of how words are so small, said in a matter of seconds, and yet they can carry the deepest hurts. Sometimes the smallest words, looks, or gestures are what get under our skin and do the most damage!

  8. Helen Burns Helene Burns says:

    Oh my… your words paint such a profound and memorable picture. Thanks for reminding us that often healing requires some digging. I know that on a very personal level.
    ‘We needed to draw it out and look at it, to name it and acknowledge that while small, it had caused damage. Only then could healing begin.’

    So, so good. xo

    • It’s almost embarrassing how much we can hurt from such little things… but I’m learning so much in the humbling and slow healing process.

  9. These words are so true! Sometimes the tiniest little thing can bug us and if left untouched or pushed under the rug it can quickly lead to bigger problems and bitterness!

  10. Oh, speaking up is so hard for me. But it’s so healing and so Biblical. Praying for more courage and boldness in this area.

  11. Lisha Epperson says:

    Still amazed that a piece of your husbands hair could wipe you out like that , and a little scared. Love how you appoached this month’s theme.

    • It is amazing, isn’t it?! It happened again a year later: another barefoot hair-trimming session (will I ever learn to wear shoes?), but that time I knew what I was looking for and went digging much earlier. I tease him occasionally about having a head full of teeny tiny daggers for hairs.

  12. Somewhere along the way we got the idea that “good Christian women” just keep their mouths shut and don’t make waves. So sad, because it’s the festering and incubation in the dark that causes so much damage to relationships — vertically and horizontally.

    And, wow . . . what a pregnancy war-story. You are amazing.

    • One day, in person and over a cup of tea, let me tell you the story of the two weeks that followed this event. The pregnancy drama got even more…dramatic… if you can believe it! 🙂

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