You Are More Than Just Your Scars

But they do tell a tale

I run the tips of my fingers across my torso and along the raised edges of my scar.

Numb to the touch. Nerves cut beyond repair.

There is a slight itch in the area, that tells me that rebirth could be possible. Patience is a virtue, so they say.

Slowly, my hand travels up to the side of my face. I trace the long jagged scar that awaits me. Looking at myself in the mirror, I see that it resembles the smile of a tragic clown.

Pitiful sadness behind the mask.

Finally, my roaming hand comes to rest on top of my head.

Again… numb to the touch.

Never fully healed from a devastating accident that occurred three long decades ago. Still seeping out bloody tears after all those years.

I notice that my thinning hair makes it more prominent than ever. So much more… ugly.

These are some of my main scars. Those that people can see, anyway.

They have been with me for a very long time now, and each has their own unique story to tell.

The head injury was obtained from a bike accident that split my skull open like a melon and crushed several vertebrae in my back and neck at the same time.

The facial scar is the result of removing the invasive skin cancer that had managed to catch a ride on my face. Cut out without mercy, but not failing to leave a painful reminder in its place.

Lastly, the huge scar along my torso is my most recent passenger. It arrived after I received surgery to remove the malevolent cancer that had once again invaded my body.

It is also the one that encouraged me to see my scars in a completely different light.

Until recently, I have harbored a deep hatred for my scars.

I resented them.

Always trying to cover them up the best I could to prevent them from being seen by others.

A pursuit that was doomed to fail.

When talking with people, their eyes would inevitably come to rest upon that which I had tried so very hard to conceal. Always accompanied by a knowing look on their face, and never looking me directly in the eye.

Perhaps I was imagining it all.

Maybe I have just been too vain.

My recent cancer battle has left me with an epiphany. A gift! A painful one, but a gift nonetheless.

Each one of these scars represents a battle I had with death.

I won all of those battles!

Why am I trying to conceal this? Instead, should I not be celebrating?

Joyful in the fact that I have faced the hardships of life and got back up again.

Fighting to live another day so I could watch the sun rise and the birds play.

Smelling the pungent pine of the forest and tasting the sweet mist upon my tongue.

Settling in for the night with my beloved wife and two small dogs. Safe and content in the comfort of my small abode.

Make no mistake, whether on the inside or out, our scars tell a tale about our lives. All of our stories are different and make us the unique people that we are today.

Never defined or constrained by our scars… but not ashamed of them either.

Instead, standing as symbols of resilience and the sheer will to survive so that we can embrace the brighter days ahead.

While not all scars are visible, they all tell a tale. One that is meticulously crafted just for you.

This is your story.

Stand proud.