chronic illness · encouragement · spoonie · struggle

Scars

Scars. We all have them. Whether they’re visible on our skin or deeply hidden underneath it. Either way, we often times try to hide them for everyone else. Doing our research into the most effective cream or at home treatment to rid our skin of its imperfections. Putting on a brave face for the world, giving into our vices or faking love for someone or something else to protect ourselves from whatever imperfections we feel we have on the inside.

Why do we feel the need hide them, though? Is it because we’re afraid of what people may say or think? That they might point, stare and ask how we got those ugly scars? Because if they stare, then we feel vulnerable, self-conscious and very aware that we don’t look the way that we think we should. Maybe we don’t want to explain how we got them: A noble military wound. The evidence of a stupid, teenage stunt. An accident due to being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Because if we have to explain how we got them, then we’re just reliving those bad moments that we try so hard to forget or are too embarrassed to reveal. We hide these scars so we don’t scare off the unknowing people who may raise their brows when they see them. They may become fearful of the things that gave them to us, thinking that maybe they too will be victims of similar situations.

But we fear the same things when dealing with the scars others can’t see, as well. Why do we feel the need to hide those? Are we afraid that if we open up about them and make them visible to everyone else, that it’ll make them that much more real? Maybe people will judge. The people who seem to have nothing breaking them on the inside will judge and we will feel our wounds reopening, increasing the risk of infection with every word that reluctantly spills out of our mouths. They will point and stare and wonder how we got these scars. Maybe we don’t want to explain how we got them. A broken heart. A broken home. Constant uphill battles that we can’t seem to win. Because if we tell them how we got these scars, we’re reliving the moments that broke us. The moments that sent us into a darkness of which maybe we’re finally finding some light in. We don’t want to share these parts of ourselves with others because it could scare them off. Make them fearful of the things that gave them to us. Questioning if they, too, could be a victim to similar situations.

Now you see why, of course, we try to hide them. We don’t want to put ourselves at risk by exposing them. And that’s because people can’t understand how you felt when you got those scars. They can’t put themselves in your shoes because there’s a chance they haven’t been in similar situations themselves. They were never in the military, or never got hurt doing something a stupid teenager would or they never were victim to an accident by being in the wrong place at the wrong time, So yes, you can hide your scars with layers of makeup and clothes. Yes, you can hide your imperfections from other people who may not understand the physical pain that led to those scars because they don’t have any themselves.

But when you feel like hiding the scars that aren’t visible, remember that everyone has had a heart that needed mending at one point. Everyone has scars on the inside, just like you. It’s just, that everyone pretends not to. So people come across like everything in their life is as it should be. We look at them and see only what they want us to see. That things are great, always have been and always will be. When in reality, below the surface, they aren’t as perfect as they look to be. Therefore, we don’t see past other people’s facades, which results in us feeling alone in our suffering. But the fact is, we wouldn’t feel so alone if we knew that other people were trying to heal similar scars just as we are. So, if we open up our hearts to others, and share with them the stories of our wounds, we would end up finding that they too have very similar stories. If we stop hiding the imperfections in our heart that make us who we are and the stories that made us the way we are, everyone else would see that they weren’t alone.

So, I’ll share some of mine.

I struggle with chronic headache disorders that have beaten me down many times in many ways. They’ve broken my spirit, tested my faith and beaten my body. They stir and strengthen my anxiety and make me familiar with a level of pain of which I’ve involuntarily learned to fight through. They’ve stolen from me and they continue to steal from me.

I’ve had many setbacks in my health. New diagnoses, new medicines with no new results and new doctors. Meaning, more symptoms, more side effects, more time wasted in waiting rooms and more blood tests, IVs, MRIs, you name it.

I’ve loved and I’ve lost. I’ve experienced a heartbreak or two. I’ve gone from being someone’s “person,” to being a distant familiarity, to being a stranger.

I have family members I’ll only ever know through stories I’m told. My vivid imagination giving life to people I’ve never met or never grew old enough to form a relationship with.

I’ve lost friendships to time, distance and the inevitable changes that life brings. Bonds that were once close have melted away. People who I shared belly aching laughter with now feel like people I would have to reintroduce myself to.


Maybe your scars look a little similar to mine. Maybe your scars look completely different. No matter how we got them, we all have them. So instead of pretending we’re all untouched and unscathed, maybe we share our stories and help heal each other’s scars.

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