The Secret About Scars

Scars add character to the skin and depth to a soul. I know the origin of every external scar and in my younger days I was unhappy with my scars.

The physical scars that changed my feelings were noticeable facial scars left from my pedestrian/car accident of April, 2000. Those scars remind me that I survived a collision with a moving car and was allowed to walk away. The larger scar, below my eye, needed reopened and dirt removed from it a year after the accident. I had what appeared to be a dark cross on my face next to my nose. People thought I had dirt on my face. I asked the surgeon to remove the dark matter from the scar and fortunately it was the surgeon who set my broken nose the week following the accident. He was able to remove what the ER doctor left in the cut...a good amount of field dirt imbedded from landing face down in a field after impact with lacerations from a driver side mirror.

Two faint scars remains from those cuts, but people don't think my face is dirty anymore and I never even think about them.

End of 5 minutes

The mental scars are the challenging ones. The deepest scars are those which are left by people that I wish were still on this earth.

What a shock, trauma, devastation it was to learn Mom took her own life, and in such a brutal fashion. We were close, but even I didn't see the signs, despite being the last person she spoke to on the phone before the act.

That scar can still be extremely tender if I am triggered by a movie or song, but the passage of time has permitted the wound to close and take on a more reasonable shade of sorrow at lost chances. Mom died at age 56. Imagine, if you can, the year I turned 56 and embarked on uncharted territory.

My Grandmother passed the following year. I had always written to her and kept in touch. Mom wrote prolifically to her family and I learned to foster relationships in the same manner; by laying pen to paper.

When Gramma went into a skilled nursing home I visited weekly for a couple hours between church services. I am so glad I had those visits.

I knew Gramma's death was pending my last visit to the home. I told her to go home to be with Grandpa, and I would be okay. I sensed she was clinging to life for me and although I never told her about Mom's suicide, she must have sensed I needed her.

With Gramma gone ( Mom's mother died before I lost Mom and hers was my first personal loss) I felt cut loose and drifting . My last maternal compass was gone.

My divorce followed. The marriage was doomed from the beginning and my heart had long since turned to stone when my husband could offer no comfort at all and relentless control and abuse.

Yes, scars alter the terrain of your skin and your heart, but I am here to suggest that healing is available. I have experienced that gift.

Scars have deeper purpose beyond suffering. Empathy comes after the pain and someone, somewhere needs to hear you made it, despite your scars.

This is my five minute freewrite using prompt scarl.

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