Stories and Scars

So today I’m in a rather cranky and irritated mood. I’m trying to make this better and I’m sitting drinking my tea hoping it will help soothe my psyche. (As well as the pounding headache that is resonating through my skull.) So I figured I need to think of positive things. One that came to mind was as a song was playing (yes I know what you’re thinking, again with the songs already. Get use to it, my life is nothing but songs…. IDEA! I’ll have to make a post with nothing but song lyrics and titles. Ok Squirrel Moment over) and it made me think of my life  from the first line of the song.

“All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I’ve been
And how I got to where I am.”

So what did this make me think of? My life and scars. Each scar has a story. Not all are from self harming. Some are surgery scars, some from being a rough tomboy, others are just from me being your typical klutz. But each and every one of them tell you who I am, as well as where I have been, and in some cases where I will be going. So let’s roll out the map of my life, my body.

There are scars on my hands, they’re burns from not paying attention to what I was doing and a hot cookie tray hit them. A few are from training dogs and the puppies were a little exuberant and bit me. The legs. Oh they tell a whole story of a tomboy. I have scars up and down my legs from scrapes that turned to scabs to scars ( I have a habit from OCD of picking at anything that can be picked, including scabs, especially them.) These scars show me racing the boys and tripping over my feet, learning to ride a bike, busting open my knee and getting rocks in it, and surgery on the one knee to remove inflamed tissue (it was to check for a tear in my cartilage, happened to not be as bad as they thought so it was left alone.) You can tell I had chicken pox as a chile from the scar by my eyebrow, the pox marks on my shoulders, thighs, and chest.

There are other scars that show where I am going. These scars I can be both proud of, and also ashamed, but I prefer the proud of option myself. These are the scars that are from self harming. Yes there are burn marks from when I was younger and would burn myself with hot items. I have scars from cutting when I was assaulted, when I was dead emotionally, when I would try and cope with my life turning upside down and sideways. You may not understand them, but I do. They mean the world to me. They showed what I went through, and look, here I am now. I may revert back to them from time to time, but I’m learning. I’m trying to get past this, and those scars are my stories and my past, but also my present. They show that I never took that step that was in my mind, well not fully, it was tried, but no success, which is a good thing, because I’m learning from that.

The rest of the song talks about how she did everything and it was worth it for the person that is in her life that means the most to her. Right now, for me, that is me. Everything I do is to make myself better. To try and make myself happy to be who I am. People will come and go, and judge me for what they see, but I have me, and that is all I need for the moment.  To be strong and make myself better. If you want a part in that, then you are more than welcome to, but if you try to pull be down, or try to keep me down…..

The Story

Brandi Carlile

All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I’ve been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don’t mean anything
When you’ve got no one to tell them to
It’s true…I was made for you
I climbed across the mountain tops
Swam all across the ocean blue
I crossed all the lines and I broke all the rules
But baby I broke them all for you
Because even when I was flat broke
You made me feel like a million bucks
You do
I was made for you
You see the smile that’s on my mouth
It’s hiding the words that don’t come out
And all of my friends who think that I’m blessed
They don’t know my head is a mess
No, they don’t know who I really am
And they don’t know what
I’ve been through like you do
And I was made for you…
All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I’ve been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don’t mean anything
When you’ve got no one to tell them to
It’s true…I was made for you

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2 thoughts on “Stories and Scars

  1. “You may not understand them, but I do. They mean the world to me. They showed what I went through, and look, here I am now. I may revert back to them from time to time, but I’m learning.”

    I know exactly where you are coming from. I haven’t harmed myself purposefully in about 10 years, but I have 3 obvious scars on my left wrist (I’m a righty). I always used a serrated steak knife because it was readily available and it gave a feeling that no straight blade could give. Thinking and talking about it now is almost like revisiting a past love affair. It may have been only a temporary relief, but still a relief nonetheless. Better than the ‘permanent solution’ to the temporary problem. Oh, and I’ve never been a burner, to me that is the worst pain.

    • The amount that I wasn’t able to feel, the burning was a lingering hurt. It made me feel more and for longer. The burn of a knife slicing open also was a feeling that to me, made me feel more. There were other ways, but those were the most. You can tell where I felt the most, the scars are very visible on my arm. But as of today, when asked about them, I tell people, they’re my story. If they’re curious they ask, if not, they walk away. Amazing how many walk away.

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