[photo found on this tumblr]
I have scars. We all have scars.
The most notable of mine, I suppose, is an inch-long pink gash on the right side of my stomach--it is both a physical flaw and a stamp of emotional stress.
This past September, I had to have skin surgery to remove a possibly cancerous freckle from my stomach. It was not the first time I'd undergone such a procedure and it's extremely probable that it won't be the last, but it is most visible and was the most painful. I could not laugh freely, or the stitches might have ripped. I couldn't exercise or stretch and dance was simply out of the question.
Also, the possibility of skin cancer had me properly terrified.
Thankfully, the test results came back negative and the scar has slowly lessened in severity, although it remains pink and a little lumpy and a healthy reminder--now whenever I'm stressed or scared, I run my thumb over the mark and realize that whatever I'm worried about isn't as terrible as I think it is. I lived through that scar, I can live through social troubles/homework/family issues and anything else life decides to throw at me.
Life wouldn't be interesting if we weren't scarred--we wouldn't be wise, because there wouldn't be any reminders of mistakes. We wouldn't be tough, because we wouldn't have endured the pain necessary to acquire a permeant scar. We wouldn't be helpful, because we wouldn't have had any past experiences to guide us in giving advice to friends (example: thanks to a little white line on one of my fingertips, I now know it is never a good idea to rip a pen out of someone's hand). We wouldn't understand that mistakes should be accepted, not agonized over. Scars help us comprehend that no one is perfect and that you are not perfect.
So don't hide your scars. Don't hate them. Embrace them. Celebrate them. As Robert H. Schuller said...
"Turn your scars into stars."
[Inspiration credit: this post from Hopeful Romantic]
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