I Would Miss Her Scars

It seems odd...the things that you would miss about someone if they weren't in your life any longer.

Last night I was laying in bed, my Dearest was asleep and my hand found the scar on her forehead from when she was little and had an unfortunate accident with a broken mirror. As my fingers lightly traced the shape of that scar, I thought to myself that I would really miss her scars if she were gone. From the moment I became familiar with my wife's body, I have always been drawn to her scars...a symbol of something painful or stressful in her life that she grew from and ultimately became who she is today, albeit with a marker or reminder of some turmoil. I've kissed all of her scars and told her how much I admire them.

She has others and I sometimes see her glancing at them in the mirror and wishing them away...but as they are the essence of her, I love what they represent...the character, the wisdom, the pain that she has endured.

We all have our scars, scars that we wish away...some harder to accept than others because of the shame or humiliation behind them, but I think it is the very acceptance of those scars and ultimately the pride in those scars that truly sets us free. I am so guilty of retreating from my scars of late. there was a time when I was proud of my scars and they served me in knowing that I could achieve anything because of where I had been and what I had endured. But at some point, I quit embracing those memories and ran from them...hid from them in the darkest corners that I could find. This shifted me from my place of love to a place of fear...a fear of self...a self-perpetuating fear so destructive that it would aim to remove everything from my life that is so dear to me.

I haven't been myself because I haven't loved myself. I tried to run from "me" and that is a race that we will all surely lose. Today I am learning again to love my scars as I love My Dearest's scars and knowing that they are drivers for my success as opposed to being barriers against said success.

Perhaps if my scars were to magically disappear, I would miss them like I would miss My Dearest's. If I couldn't reflect on those scars and see them in the mirror, I'd have no real understanding of who I am or where I have been.