“Scars show a person has lived. A person has fallen. Skin has been ripped, pulled and shredded. A visual story branded on living tissue. A knife cut flesh willingly or unwillingly, by accident or necessity. Scars tell a story, even if we don’t want to. They are a marker that something happened and it’s left a lasting sign, a tattoo on my body.
Each of us has them. Some of us lucky to only have a few small ones, and some of us have bigger ones, billboards from car accidents or battles with disease that required skin to be sacrificed.
Scars are the outer branding that a story must be told to truly know a person.
We worry what people will think of our scars, the visible ones must be discussed. They are always questioned. “What happened?” and the choice is to tell the truth or invent some grand misfortune. The explanation depends on the day, doesn’t it, and the person asking. Skin scars do eventually heal, some fading into white lines that are hardly noticeable. Other wounds have rough edges shouting exclamation points of trauma. The scar determined by the intensity and treatment of the injury.
It’s the scars that lie within that fascinate me. The ones that aren’t visible, yet they are. Inside scars are just harder to see. Inside scars manifest in the actions or inaction of people. They come from experiences that leave a lasting impression on a heart, mind and soul. The events that happen that have changed me as a human being. One day I was this, and after I’ve lived through an experience now I’m someone else. Scars change you. Heart scars make some people tough, so they may avoid being hurt again, or fearful of intentions and motives, always on guard against an attack. And sometimes heart scars make you tender, more aware that feeling is all that is important. Love is all that matters.
Invisible heart scars are intriguing. A piece of who I am has been scooped out, leaving my heart to mend. These are the scars I try to hide, but they guide my very existence:
It’s amazing the events we survive and endure, thinking emotionally we have surely died, and yet we rise. It’s in the aftermath that we decide how to process what’s happened. How will the trauma affect us? The invisible scars are the ones that make us who we are. Will the world be bitter and cruel? Will the world be full of light and love? Where do your scars lead you? Will I choose love or fear to guide me? It’s my choice which to use as the compass.
My scars are the map of my journey to health, if you will.I refuse to be ashamed of the scars that were left behind during a difficult period in my life. I will remind myself that a scar represents the end of pain. It proves that I endured and I am healed. I healed myself.
My scars will forever tell the story that I overcame life’s challenges and I survived. I was stronger than whatever tried to hurt me.
Scars show us where we’ve been, not where we’re going.”
I resonate with the words, and the words resonate with my scars. My scars. To which I have. To which I’m not overly fond of. To which contribute to a little case of a lack of self love. But, they are a part of my story, and my story is real. So let’s get a little real, shall we?
MY MATHS TEACHER AND I 