Made Of Scars

The topic of 'scars' came up in my mind this morning as I read a blog by Ms. Single Mama.

This subject is all too familiar for me as I've spent the last three years focusing on how scarred and damaged I feel. I've looked inside at the scars and the hurt that I still have and I see the ugly reminders of what I've been through. And then one day, a few months ago, my perspective changed.

I was cutting down some vines that had crawled up the fence along the back of my yard. To really get rid of them, I was pulling them up by the roots, which was tearing up the rich black soil back in that area of my yard. In all the dirt my eye landed on this beautiful glitter of light, so I curiously reached down and uncovered a chunk of broken glass. There wasn't a smooth side to the piece of glass, nothing to indicate what it had previously been. It was covered in dirt, so I wiped it off on my shirt, trying to figure out what exactly I was holding.

As I wiped the dirt off, there would be another glitter and sparkle of sunlight reflecting off of it.

My brain instantly started kicking in, making comparisons with this broken piece of glass and the broken girl holding it. I always do this, I always analyze little insignificant things to mean something big and wonderful. It's just something I've always done.

I took the glass inside and ran it under warm water to rinse the dirt off and then I took some glass cleaner to it and shined it as best as I could. Fortunately, the glass was old enough and weathered enough from its time spent in the earth that the broken edges weren't as sharp as they would have been fresh after it broke from its old self.

I carried the glass back out into the sun and smiled as a thought ran through my mind. Sometimes things are more beautiful after they've been shattered and broken. Sometimes it takes being broken to create a new, more beautiful edge, that reflects light that previously just passed right through. Sometimes our scars aren't scars so much as they're just a way of exposing beauty that you already possessed.

My comment on Ms. Single Mama's blog was this.
I've been told that the healing process is never truly over, there's always a scar and it's always a little more tender than the skin around it. And scars always have this way of reminding you that your past really happened. I, too, struggle with my scars and so far it's ruined every chance of a relationship that I've had in the past three years. But at some point I had to accept that these are my battle wounds, these are my lessons learned and proof that I have given what I had to give, I have been hurt, and I have survived.

So scars, for me, aren't so much about being hurt anymore. They're about surviving. About getting past the hurt and letting go of the pain. I like to consider them proof of my strength and my courage instead of proof that I cared enough about someone that they had the ability to hurt me. And even though it's natural to want to protect myself again, even though it's natural to want to use those scars as a reminder of how bad you can hurt....I like to think of them as proof that--worst case scenario--I'll survive. I'll endure. And I'll come out a better and stronger person as I have before.

But I have faith that, someday, some man will see me and my scars and the fear behind my smile and he'll think I'm absolutely beautiful and worth enduring the hard and difficult times for. I think that he'll understand that when I lash out and when I withdraw, that it's just a part of me that I need to work through and that I need to deal with. And I have faith that, even though it might hurt him, he'll understand and he'll be there to hold my hand again when I let him.

I have a quote, too, that I love.

"Find a person who loves you for exactly who you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome…the right person is still going to think the sun shines out of your back-side. That’s the kind of person worth sticking with."
So instead of seeing my scars as scary or ugly or painful....I like to think of them much like I think of my cesarean scar. Sure it hurt at the time. Sure I had to recover and it took me a little longer than it took others for several reasons, including the fact that my wound had to be reopened twice and allowed to heal from the inside out. But that scar is beautiful and wonderful to me because I have an amazing son to show for it. That scar I earned the day his precious little soul came into my life. It is not and will never be a bad or ugly thing.

My emotional scars are the same way. I hurt and I healed. The scars are nothing more than proof of that. And someday, I know, I'll see something beautiful that came from those scars, too.


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About The Author
Ashley Wife & Mom

Ashley is a thirty-something wife and mother of two boys. She enjoys spending time with her family, as well as reading and decorating their home. Her blogging adventures began in 2006 as a single mother and have carried on through marriage and a new life with a husband, a teenager, and a pre-schooler.