“My scars tell a story. They are a reminder of times where life tried to break me, but failed. They are markings of where the structure of my character was welded.”-Steve Maraboli
I think that some of us wish our scars away for the sake of fear regarding what others may think. Oh, if she sees all that I have gone through, she is going to view me as this broken, damaged person. But in reality, there is so much delicacy in scars. And it is our bodies that wear those beautiful scars that have emerged from the ashes of our wounds.
The people that are reading my blog are most likely those who have experienced a great deal of pain and need a safe space to let it all go: the anger, sadness, denial, and guilt. Grieving is such a lonely experience and that feeling of having nowhere to go to come terms with it can be suffocating.
I use to feel as though my emotions made me ugly. Gross. Disgusting. And that no one in the future could love me because of my trauma. But I have come to realize that the most beautiful people are the ones who have struggled and who have spent countless nights on their bathroom floor trying not to succumb to a scream. Those are the people who have looked the universe in the eye, given them the finger and said, “nice try. You attempted to break me, but here I am.”
“Grief never ends. But it changes. It’s a passage, not a place to stay. Grief is not a sign of weakness, nor lack of faith. It’s the price of love.”-Unknown
Grief is like that one rich relative you only see at holiday times. It comes and goes, but always remembers to leave a gift in its wake. A puncture, if you will, in the wall of your heart. And as more falls into your plate, it rips open just a little until you cannot help but let out a cry. When that happens to me, I sit in my bed with my sheets balled up into my fists and tears streaming down my cheeks. I let my head to fall into my pillow as I stifle a sob. Then, when that wave of melancholy disappears back into the ocean, I wipe my tears away and close my eyes.
That in and of itself is strength. The motion of being the one to brush away your tears and continue on is an act of bravery and vigilance.
“Never be ashamed of a scar. It simply means you were stronger than whatever tried to hurt you.”-Unknown
We cannot control what the universe throws our way, but we can control how we deal with it. Do we let our trauma define us, or do we let it strengthen us? Do we allow our scars to make us feel unworthy, or do we allow them to make us feel badass? The choice is not up to me; it is up to you. So what will you decide?