Scars

Scars can be emotional or physical, they can be prominent or hidden. Scars can fade away, or stay on the surface a thin white mark of what happened in the past.

The thing with scars, no matter where they are, or what they are, faded, still angry red, even when the memory itself has faded and is not as sharp, the action that put it there can not be changed. Scars shape us, mentally, physically. There is no changing that. Some brandish the scars like a shield or weapon, holding them out for the world to see, as an explanation, a defense, a reminder of what not to do, or what to do. Others hide them away, ashamed, fearful of what others might say.

You can get scars on purpose, from accidents, sometimes, even unknowingly. And even when they have faded away and even you can’t see them any more, they are there. They have shaped you, your skin, your mind. The fall when learning to ride your bike, the scars may be gone, but they taught you how to stay up and balance. The skin may be a bit paler in those spots, a bit more raised.

The scars from your first love lost. They may still seem fresh, or faded until nothingness, but they shaped you. The taught you how to love, what made you different, or the same.

No matter how much you hide scars from the rest of the world, they are there. They made you who you are. Wear your scars, if not proudly, at least as a part of who you are. They made you, formed you.

I have scars. Some deeper than others. Some from surgery, some from accidents, others I can’t even remember, but the ones I hide away most are the emotional ones, the ones that taught me that I am not good enough, smart enough, pretty enough. The ones that showed me I wasn’t meant for this lifetime. The physical scars that go with those emotional scars have long since faded away to nothing more than a small thin line, visible to no one but me. But it is a constant reminder to myself that emotions shouldn’t be tied to anyone thing, emotions weren’t meant to have physical scars. Hard as it might be, emotional scars are meant to do nothing more than form who we are. To learn from them, not be them.

I am still learning that scars should just be the background of who we are, not the center stage. A story to tell about that crazy night you went skinny dipping and trip on a log. Not what makes you, or breaks you, just forms and adds to your stories.

I may always fight on what my scars mean, and where they belong, but I will not let them define me.

 

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