Sometimes I notice the stares.
Honestly, I’m not perturbed.
But today, while talking to my best friend who is like a sister, something dawned on me.
I was itching the scars scabbing on my hand, and J lovingly told me to stop itching them. The girl standing right next to us in the busy shopping mall scrutinised unabashed.
I didn’t mind. But, I did wonder. Should I hide my scars? Is there a good reason to? I over analyse and tend to worry excessively over the ‘what if’s.’
Maybe they might deter a potential partner or friends, perhaps employment prospects? The stigma around mental illness might hit me harder.
I don’t know. I’m only supposing.
Every scar has a story behind it. Some traumas have just been too much and during crises the pain behind these scars helped me to cope, somehow.
Yes sometimes I look at the scars and think, ‘what have I done?’ But other times I observe the scars making unruly lines on my smooth skin, and I remember what I have lived through. I remember the pain that I didn’t think I could get past, the exact moments, every one of them; and I am made strong.
I think if I made it through those past crises, I can overcome today as well.
Gentle hugs 🙂