Updated: Feb 10
I've been thinking about SCARS today (this happens every once in a while). It started when I got out of the shower this morning, and looked in the mirror. I could totally dress up as the Bride of Frankenstein for Halloween - all I need to complete the "costume" is 2 white streaks in my hair, and a bikini, so people could actually see the scars! In fact, it looks like my torso has been cut completely in half and sewn back together in 2 different places!
I know it's kind of morbid, but I couldn't help myself... I started counting. I have 23 scars from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet. 23. (And countless others that I can't see, but still know are there.)
Several of those scars resulted in amazing blessings coming into my life - four blessings, to be exact... my kids (stretch marks and episiotomy scars).
There are scars that are the result of parts of my body just not working right anymore (gall bladder, hysterectomy, heel spur); scars that are the result of parts of my body that tried to kill me (mastectomies, moles); and, of course, scars that are the result of fears that I have of cancer recurrence (tummy tuck to get rid of lethal belly fat, liposuction, oophorectomy). Then, there are the "helpful" scars - those where my port was located, and those in the locations of drains from surgeries.
Most of my scars were expected - I knew they would be there when I had things removed, or made the choice to have different surgeries. Some were unexpected, like the scar on my arm where I burned myself. Whether expected or not, let's just say that my body is NOT perfect. And sometimes, I get annoyed by that - I really hate the way my body looks. It makes me angry.
Upon further reflection, though, I realize that each of these scars tells a story. Every single one of them is there for a reason. If scars could talk...! And upon even further reflection, I know that each one of these scars is proof that I've lived - a full, complicated, sometimes hard, life. But, they also show that my life has been full of joy, too.
I call them my battle scars. They signify my battles with fear, pain, death, and life. And once I've thought it through... I realize that they really don't bother me much at all. Things happen. We live life. We love. We cry. We experience both sadness and joy. We scar.