I’m a mom. Do you see the picture of me smiling, dark-blond hair blowing in the wind? That is I. My son snapped that picture of me at Virginia Beach last summer
. I guess I am normal, but if not normal, I’m not so strange either. We all bear our own markings or scars, like zebras who all appear the same but different too.
Perhaps our scars make us special, not so much from the shape they take when the injury is first inflicted, but from the way our skin remaps itself once we’ve healed. No, that isn’t right either. We’re not merely the culmination of our scars. The effect of my scars on my identity is more akin to the effect of the boy on the fox in The Little Prince:
You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.
And I don’t mean something as simple as I am responsible for “taming” my inner child. What if the word “tamed” becomes “healed,” and what if I, because of my own efforts to heal my injuries, both internal and external, have become responsible for those scars that constitute my inner self? I am responsible to me and for me.
In other words, as the fox utters:
It is the time you have devoted to your rose that makes your rose so important.
I wonder if this is true. Do my scars matter on their own? Does a solitary rose growing in a forest matter? Does a bruise or a cut from long ago matter? Does it matter who hit me, who assaulted me, who hurt me? If my 
abusers and the scars they left on my person really matter, then I lose some degree of self-determination over the course of my existence.
I like to think the scars and the abusers do not matter except for their impact on how I have grown unique and beautiful. I like to think that what does matter is the time I have devoted to growing the garden that now blossoms inside my soul; a garden that grows because of the energy I have invested in healing. I value this energy I’ve devoted to healing; I value the work and the time and the love I’ve bestowed on the prickly rose bushes I’ve grown from the wounds others inflicted on me.
I refuse to value my wounds; in and of themselves, my wounds hold no inherent value. I do, however, value how I have healed. I acknowledge the rivulets of blood each wound left behind but I shaped the path the river took while the wound healed. I patched my scars. I tamed my heart. I cured what ailed me. And now and forever, I am responsible for how I heal and what form the finished product will take. I am fox and I am little boy and I am the rose. I matter.
Beautiful, El.
Thank you Kasey. xo.
This is very poignant and beautifully written. I do agree that we are completely responsible for how we heal and what form the finished product will take. That can be hard to accept, as often it’s so easy to blame those who have harmed us–physically or emotionally–instead of not letting them control who we are today. Healing is painful, no doubt, and it’s a process.
The hard part is that while external scars are visible for others to see, the ones on the inside are kept just for us. Never judge a book by it’s cover, as you never know what scars someone carries. Big props to you for continuing your journey to heal, and of course, you matter.
Thank you so very much Abby. And I like the concept of responsibility. I don’t like to wallow OR to deny. What happened happened in the past but we are the fate we make. And yes, my God, the inside scars may be invisible to others but they affect who we are and it is so important not to judge what we cannot see. Thank you my friend.
Beautiful.
The Little Prince is one of my favorite books. I agree with your analogy. I think our scars – inside and out, along with all the experiences we’ve had over the year, encompass who we are. How you nurture your scars and yourself will reveal how you continue to grow and evolve.
Aw thank you Larisa! And I dig what you said: “How you nurture your scars and yourself will reveal how you continue to grow and evolve.”
I love our scars because they remind us where we come from. I love this idea and this post El. Just beautiful. We heal and we tame and yet, and yet…..
Aw Katy, thank you so very much my friend. And I hear you: and yet, and yet . . . xo.
I love all your writing but you manage to have one sentence in every piece that cuts right through:
“Perhaps our scars make us special, not so much from the shape they take when the injury is first inflicted, but from the way our skin remaps itself once we’ve healed.”
Beautiful.
Gosh, Kelly, for the second time tonight, thank you so very, very much!! And I think I feel a poster idea coming on–based on that quote. Thank you for giving me the idea!! xoxo.
You really touched my heart (and healing scars) with this one, El. It’s only when we realize that WE are the caretakers of our wounds/scars that we can can finally heal. The scars never go away, but they do, indeed, “remap” who we are. Love and admiration for you!
Thank you Cindy!! And a gentle smile to you and for your own scars. Much love right back to you!!
Wow. I’m not sure if this writing is from the heart of from the gut; regardless, it is wonderful.
Aw shucks, thank you so very much Leanne, and congratulations on the completed 65,000 words/draft (and love the title!!)!
I love the power of the idea that we control what defines us — we control the result of our scars. And, I may not know you well (yet!), but you as work-in-progress are pretty amazing. It takes strength to face down the past and take control. I hope you know how much strength flows from your words and into those of us who read them. “I patched my scars. I tamed my heart. I cured what ailed me.” Words to live by.
Thank you my friend for your kind remarks. I felt warmed by what you wrote above: “I hope you know how much strength flows from your words and into those of us who read them.” xo.
This is beautiful, El. You reached down deep for this one, didn’t you? The power of these words especially touched me, “I like to think the scars and the abusers do not matter except for their impact on how I have grown unique and beautiful.” Everything we’ve experienced has made us who we are…even how long we give something a place of value in our lives. The peace of putting it in its proper place became a reality for me when I was able to reach forgiveness and even more importantly compassion for “them” through a workshop I attended many years ago. Thank you for sharing this. It reminded me how grateful I am for all that has made me ME. I wish you a peaceful heart, my friend. ~ Moon
Ah Moon, yes I did reach deep down. And yes, the peace that comes from putting things in their proper place is like no other. I am so happy to read that you accessed your own peace years ago (as well as compassion) via the workshop you attended. Thank you my friend. Namaste.
Beautiful. “I am responsible to me and for me.” That is a truth I carry close to my heart. I think it makes it so much easier to grow when we can stop blaming outside factors and take responsibility for our own healing and our own actions
Jules: thank you dear soul. And it does make it easier to grow when we rely on ourselves to provide the roots AND the water. xoxo.
First off, The Little Prince is one of my very favorite books of all times.
Secondly, this conclusion:
“And now and forever, I am responsible for how I heal and what form the finished product will take. I am fox and I am little boy and I am the rose. I matter.”
gave me absolute chills. Congratulations on your healing, and this post that offers others the hope found in tending themselves. ♥