It sometimes feels as if my scars, and the lessons I have learned in acquiring them, are all that keep me from spinning into a million pieces. They hold me together as life tries to tear me apart.
The closed head injury and its accompanying five-inch scar on the back of my skull have taught me to keep learning and training my mind. I acquire new skills and hone old ones, refusing to accept the outdated belief that once injured, the brain cannot grow and rebuild.
The small scar in the middle of my upper lip reminds me that even when I lose my support, I have people in my life who care for me. They pick me up, soothe my pain, and assure me that all will be well.
The faint mark across my lower abdomen makes me realize that even without the ability to reproduce, I can create and contribute in other ways. I create warmth through knitting and beauty through art and music. It is not only parents who add something to this world.
The almost invisible scar on my left knee from total ACL replacement surgery, acquired at the same time as my head injury, reminds me to not ignore my physical self in my search for wellness. I refuse to be held down by pain caused by conditions over which I have control.
The double mastectomy and subsequent latissimus dorsi-flap reconstruction scars across my chest and down my left shoulder blade are the most dramatic of my scars. They will always remind me that I can survive most of the hells this world can dish out. They are physical proof of my strength and resilience.
I choose not to hate my scars, but to embrace them as part of me and my journey. They remind me that I have agency in this life. I am not a victim, batted around by chance, wishing things were different and wondering why they are not so. I make my life what I want it to be.
Chaos may happen to me, but it cannot control how I react to it.
