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Friday, August 10, 2012


β€œOn the girl’s brown legs there were many small white scars. I was thinking, Do those scars cover the whole of you, like the stars and the moons on your dress? I thought that would be pretty too, and I ask you right here please to agree with me that a scar is never ugly. That is what the scar makers want us to think. But you and I, we must make an agreement to defy them. We must see all scars as beauty. Okay? This will be our secret. Because take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, I survived.”
― Chris Cleave, Little Bee

Most of the time, it’s just a healed scar - mostly numb and slightly wired wrong so that when you poke at it, it doesn’t feel or act quite like it should.  Sometimes, though, the weather will be just cold enough or the wrong sort of song will come on or a turn of phrase will jab at it just so and the pain instantly and deeply returns.

Scars aren’t like scabs.  You can’t really pick at them.  There’s nothing fascinating to see.  They don’t bleed.  They don’t mend.  Often they fade or toughen, but they’re always just sort of… there; a reminder.  Some argue they are a reminder of old wounds while others argue they are proof of healing.  I’m not sure which side of the fence I sit on the issue, since I see both as potentially true.  This scar, though, it’s still a reminder of the wound.  I still sometimes wish I hadn’t survived.

But here I am, scars and all, unconvinced that this one is beautiful, and still surviving.

Posted by Liberty on 08/10 at 03:57 AM
Posted under: See-ThroughThinking of You

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Chuck Chuck  at  08/10/12 03:03 PM

I’d say it depends on what caused the scar and how long it has been around to determine if it’s proof of healing, or a reminder of old wounds…or even both at the same time.  I have several of each type.  Some have made me stronger, while others I’m still learning to deal with.  Either way, I plan on surviving through them.  I hope you do too.

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Liberty Liberty  at  08/11/12 02:04 AM

I guess I have several of all types, too.  But some you’d think would have toughened up by now.

My biodad left when I was 8 months old.  I wasn’t even old enough to know him, much less remember him leaving.  Yet, having my brother refuse to talk to me (for reasons he won’t explain, even) dredges up questions like, “Why does everyone leave me?” and “Why am I not good enough?” all over again.

Even when I’m able to logically separate triggers (for example: that was then, this is now) my emotional side tends to still win over and I wind up miserable.

For what it’s worth, Chuck, I’m glad you’ve weathered your storms and come out the other side.  You should call or email sometime and fill me in with how things are going for ya.

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Talisman  at  08/11/12 05:03 AM

I. Miss. You.

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