Advice to my Younger Self: Scars Remind me that the Past is Real
Dear Little Rachel,
That’s some nasty looking cuts you’ve got there. They hurt like hell at the time, I should know. They always do. I’m sure you’ve come to realise now that we are rather accident prone. I wish I could tell you I’d managed to grow out of it by now but that is, unfortunately, not the case. You’ve got some serious scrapes ahead of you kid and they will all leave their mark.
There will be a time when you feel really low about the scars. You will feel like those painful times have spitefully etched themselves into your skin, to taunt you and serve as a constant reminder of the countless time we sacrificed hands and knees to stop from landing face first on the cold, hard ground. You will feel embarrassed and ashamed at the ugliness of them. You will have to learn to laugh it off when uncles, friends and strangers say things like ‘look at the state of your knees’. As if I don’t already know I have a scattering of gruesome falls and painful trips plastered across my flesh. How could I not know?
I wish I could tell you I’ve had some deep philosophical epiphany. That every scar I have tells a story; has made me the person I am today; that I wouldn’t even change them if I could. I’m sorry to say that is not the case. If I could erase each scar on body like erasing pencil from paper, I would do it in a heart beat but I know that is not an option.
What I can say is that I’ve accepted that they are part of me.
I am clumsy, I stumble a lot and that’s OK. My scars remind me that not only is the past is real but also that after every time we fell, we got back up. We will always get back up. And I for one believe that says more about us than the scars ever could.
Yours in future,