cicatrizando: to form a scar; to heal
After a few days, I finally got the courage to look at my surgery incisions. For one, I sometimes disagree with what the mirror shows me… so I been avoiding seeing my bloated stomach….but I stood there…naked… bare…hunched over because it hurts to stand up straight. Being exposed, I feel vulnerable, I don’t like it but I got to thinking about the scars of our body. I thought about the people in my life with far greater scars than mine.
For most of my teenage years I hid my body and self behind saggy clothes, my shy personality, pimply faced low self esteem…and in my early 20’s, alcohol, staying home, wishful thinking, bad relationships, and a whole lot of makeup to cover my acne scars.
My papi would tell us this very well known story about a man who asks God for a lighter cross. God sends him into a room filled with different sized crosses and the man picks the smallest one he sees to carry. To his amazement, its his own cross. He realizes that his cross isn’t so bad anymore.
The cross that I carry, in my opinion, isn’t so heavy. I’m so blessed, but none the less, we all carry different size crosses. Not one cross is more important than another because we bare the weight that God allows us to carry and with it, the lessons we have to learn. Some people are more resilient, some are weaker, some are selfish, and a special few will help you carry your weight along the way. I think scars are the same way. Physically, we all bare them on our bodies. Some scars much more heavy…greater… visible…than others.
I have many scars…I have a few on my knees from trying to learn how to ride a bike, one on my hand from trying to save a kitty that got stuck trying to climb down a fence, a c-section scar when they removed an ovarian cyst and with it, an ovary. Now…I’ve added 3 little more scars to the collection….
Those are not the only scars our bodies hold…some are silent…some run deeper…heartbreak, childhood bullying, military trauma, abused, cancer, eating disorders, weight loss surgery aftermath…. my dysmorphic view of what I see in the mirror…. Standing there looking at myself I think about all the wonderful people I know who bare these types of scars and how strong they are for overcoming them. Unfortunately, and with so much sadness still in my heart, I also remember the pain of someone whos scars are much more than all the love could cure. An overwhelming surge of emotions and tears come to me…. Mostly because I’m on painkillers lol… but still, I see it again…that lesson for me to learn…ACCEPTANCE….
As these small, routine incisions heal, a bigger scar is healing within me…a selfish one I think…but one that’s long over due to heal. I’m beginning to accept me in my totality, because without acceptance, good can not come out of scars.