“I ask you right here please to agree with me that a scar is never ugly. That is what the scar makers want us to think. But you and I, we must make an agreement to defy them. We must see all scars as beauty. Okay? This will be our secret. Because take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, I survived.”
Todays post is about scars.
In my last video post (January 22nd) I include some bikini photos of myself as “progress photos” for my fitness journey. I included the photos without much thought . . . but I few days later it occurred to me . . . “The pictures of my abdomen area is really scarred up. I wonder what people think?”
First off . . .
If it took me a few days for that thought to even occur to me then obviously I don’t have a problem with the scars or the photos. I’m just curious what other people think.
And then I started to think about the situation. I tried to remember how I’d made peace with living with all of these scars on my body?
Time? Not having a choice? Being resolved to do what I had to? Putting things in perspective?
Sometimes I wonder if my scars are meant to remind me that I am a soul living temporarily in this body? I’ve not only dealt with scars but with dialysis catheters and now a permanent implanted defibrillator. It’s like my body isn’t 100% mine.
The way I dress, I tend not to hide the scars and medical “additions”. For one, I don’t want to have to change because I’ve been “disfigured”. I want to keep some semblance of normality despite the scars. If I put on turtlenecks and one piece bathings suits then it’s proof that I’m not at peace with myself. And I truly am at peace about the scars.
When I see someone notice them I don’t get embarrassed or try to hide them. If someone asks me what happened, I plainly explain my situation in simple terms. I’m not seeking attention. Or looking for sympathy. I am simply trying to live a normal life.
The only area of my body that I grieve a little is my collar bone region. I used to feel very beautiful in sleeveless dresses. Now I’m less inclined to wear anything that shows this part of my body off too much. It’s not so much that it bothers me, it’s more about the unwanted attention that my scars attract. It takes energy to ignore people or to explain things to people. It’s easier to just keep things ambiguous or to myself.
Todays post is more of a rant. Disjointed thoughts about my scars.
As the quote says, the scars are signs that I’ve survived. Each scars reminds me of a crisis or health milestone. Each one signifies something I’ve overcome or am overcoming. They are badges of my strength and perseverance. I’m proud of what I’ve survived . . . these scars tell a story of a strong woman.
I will close today’s blog post with a photo of a little, mini Karen Nicole Smith . . . pre-scars. A little girl who didn’t know poking and prodding. Health crisis, ambulances and close calls.
To be five again . . .