“All scars fade with time”
That is what they told me
That once the wound closes
You’ll move on
Sure, you’ll look at the marks left behind
In remembrance and sorrow
With anger and relief
But some day
You’ll forget they’re there
And soon enough
They’ll disappear entirely
But I don’t know if it’s that simple
When I look down
I see skin that’s not quite smooth
I stare into the mirror
Where red and pink once stood in ugly unison
In its place now lay lines of white against dark skin
Still fading
But I still can’t help but feel loss in the absence of those marks
As if they are a part of me
Like I’m forgetting a part of my identity
When I know I’m not
When I know those pieces are not what define me
When I know I’m so much more
But this fear of losing things I should be happy to be rid of
Claws for my attention
And I’m caught mid step between moving forward and falling back
I teeter on the edge of wanting familiarity or freedom
And I don’t know what to do
But know this also
That these scars have changed me
Yes, they are a part of me
And they always will be
I can’t change that
But with or without them
I’m whole
My scars will never truly fade
They will stay with me in mind
And my heart
Hey-
Wow, that was an experience. To say the very least.
But this is something I’ve been thinking about and struggling with. For a long time I was desperate to separate who I was/am from my depression and more specifically this visible/physical representation of my depression. Then I went through a period of almost flaunting my scars because I was so tired of feeling ashamed of them.
And now I’m here.
And I think I’m at a point of peace and acceptance. At least for now.
I don’t know how many of you (or if any of you at all) have gone through this but I hope you can take something away from this.
Until next time
