The Scars We Wear
You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand. – Velveteen Rabbit
Here we are, coming up on the 17th anniversary of my accident, and with it, I share Lesson #2. The scars we carry.
I have been tormented by these scars every single day for these past nearly 17 years. My heart breaks just saying this. Shattered in a million pieces and then, all at once, patched back together. Mourning what I lost that day but also celebrating what I gained.
Had everything about my accident stayed the same and I didn’t suffer 7th cranial nerve trauma – and the resulting crooked smile – I think my accident would be something completely different. Just something I worked (my ass off) through. A day and the months overcoming it that made me stronger and wiser. Even being deaf in my right ear, just a quiet (literally!) reminder here and there of that fateful day.
But that was not the case and instead, because of 7th cranial nerve trauma, I wear the scars from that day as a reminder every time I look in the mirror. Every time I see a camera come out and I quickly tilt my head. A constant reflection, tenfold each day, of what was lost.
But perhaps, a constant understanding of what I gained that day.
The scars I wear. The daily testament of the fragility of life. That, boom, just like that, it can be over. A reinforcement to:
Love hard.
Stay present.
Find meaning in each day.
Don’t put up with bullshit.
The crooked smile is a constant reminder that each day is a gift, a bonus day. Constant feedback that I am stronger than I think I am. That I can literally do ANYTHING I put my mind to.
The scars I wear are not ugly. These scars are not shame. They are not weakness.
The scars I wear are the places I have been broken, rebuilt, and loved.
They are what make me Real.
And maybe the same is true for you.