I have lived my life with many scars. Those visible childhood scars from when I fell off my bike. Or the time my hand went through the plate-glass storm door…ouch and long story. And then my first serious car accident where I hit the steering wheel (before seat belts-yes I am that old), and my teeth went through my chin…lots of stitches.
And there are the not so visible scars…I don’t mean the ones from surgery….mine from last year is still healing nicely, thanks for asking. No, I mean those scars we hide inside. When we were deeply hurt for the first time. Mine was a Kindergarten teacher on my first day in a new school and she crushed my spirit...a scar that stayed with me, unseen even by me until a few years ago. When it came bubbling up to the surface, I realized that this scar had led to some self-defeating ideas I had been harboring for almost 50 years. WOW!
And the scars that built on that first one….the stories I believed about how I was not artistic, or creative, and yes Mr. Driver’s Ed teacher who said I would never learn to drive. OK there are some who may have agreed with him (and secretly still do). And my thesis team…those professors I had to convince I was worthy of passing by successfully defending my Master’s thesis….those who took pride and pleasure in trying to make me look not so smart or accomplished.
Yes, I could go on with the ruminations from when I started work….it is an endless reel of tape that sometimes plays in my head. But at some point these scars tend to heal over only opening again when someone close to me, personally or professionally, would say something nasty. And over the years I built up a thick skin around those scars so as not to feel them there.
But they are there. I even built a high wall from all the bricks thrown at me over the years. In fact, the wall became so high I began to feel suffocated, claustrophobic and isolated. So I finally burst through the wall. And instead of viewing my scars as something to keep hidden, I have brought them out to the light of day where I can see them, and they can heal.
I now view my scars as gifts….gifts that have led me down my path…the path where I am meant to go. They are my strength. They showcase my resilience. And I am darn proud of them. Sometimes I write about my scars here….it helps me to heal them, and sometimes it helps others. I am not depressed or upset about them or the lessons they are teaching me….actually it makes me happier when I can talk about them, and then let them go.
So you see I really do love my scars. Those that show the physical or emotional pain of my life….they are me…an important part of me. They help me to continue to embrace my vulnerabilities. Without them, I would never have been able to truly love my whole self, scars and all. They have become a kind of Superpower that assures me that whatever is happening, I will have the strength to get through it.
I am still figuring out the “get through it” part. For me, it is like putting on a soothing balm to heal the wounds and scars. But it is an individual journey…we all process let downs, disappointments, and grief in our own unique way. Sometimes I surrender and let go….sometimes I decide to walk away and not engage….and sometimes I fight head-on into the fire coming out a little scraped and bruised, but again wiser, stronger, and oh so much happier.
Note: In the Language of Flowers, daffodils represent self-love. And I chose white daffodils, as white represents light, goodness and safety.
I leave you with another thought about self-love. Feel free to download this photo and share.
All other photos and original content is copyrighted and the sole property of Donna Donabella @ Living From Happiness, 2014-2015. Any reprints or use of other photos or content is by permission only.