As children we see our bodies with curiousity and wonder; at some point this changes and we start to see the world through societies scope. We become obsessed with others. Obsessed with what they can do, what they look like, what they have or haven’t got. Our energy is spent comparing. Our energy is spent telling ourselves that we are not good enough, or in some cases we are superior. In essence, our energy is spent on exhaustion.
The truth is, I failed to see my scars until the world told me I had them.
I grew up beside the surgeons blade. By the age of 13, I had been in surgery 15 times. There are many details I fail to recall, but forever the scars of my experiences will be.
Understanding that I was different was something I was incapable of early on. With time came difference, and without understanding the difference became divide.
I branded myself, I wore labels like a badge of distaste, and convinced myself that I was safe within these labels.
Wise people would speak their message of Truth: accept you’re different, Love who you are. How could I have Loved who I was when I dispised myself so deeply?
I now see, that was their Truth, not mine. My Truth was that I needed to experience the pain, anxiety and fear that pave the road to self-love in order to stand strong within myself.
Our scars tell a story of where we have been. And, if we are lucky, who we are and who we will be.
For me, experiencing people and the rawness and vulnerability of their stories enabled me to see that I am not faulty. Elaborating on this story will take from the intended core message; further reflections will come another time.
In the next few days, I take off my bandages and my new body will be revealed. I know that my body will not be the same; but neither is my mind.
I truly believe that we must be proud of our scars and the stories that are intertwined within their presence. Scars tell a story of survival through pain and fear.
For me, as a young wide eyed girl who craved to be normal, accepted and Loved. Seeing pride and courage in others, might have given me the strength and courage to own my story and forge a deep Love for who I was at a difficult and fearful time.
We can improve the lives of others by being our authentic selves and honouring our stories.
“Our scars tell a story of where we have been. And, if we are lucky, who we are and who we will be”
Jollyoddbod 2020
Way to go Jo.
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Thank you Gerry my friend. šš
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