Scars

Today while I was getting ready I was thinking a lot about scars.
What scars do for us, what they mean, what they are. I was looking at my life in terms of scarring. I have a friend who has a big scar on his knee- but part of that scar defines him. He got it at a beach.
I have a large and ugly scar on my foot- what it comes from, my drive for perfection. I had a mole there which they removed and it left a circle scar. Upon wanting to be more beautiful, I had them remove it. It left me with an uglier scar, long and purple. It defines me.
Each scar on me goes back to a story. It defines who I am to those who are looking in. I am simply accident prone, from the time I was learning to walk to age 21 tripping on my own high heels. It is a wonder that I am still in once piece.
As I was thinking about these outward scars however, I was thinking about the ones that are internal. We have all heard of scar tissue; but there is often something more. We all have battle wounds from loosing loved ones, being disappointed by events, and heartbreak from relationships. We are defined by these invisible scars. We are wounded and left with marks and flaws that we can mask. We as a society are often fighting to cover these marks. We don't talk about ourselves the way we should. Our internal scars prevent us from trusting. They stop us from loving again.
Once the door is open, it cannot be shut. We are trying to protect ourselves from further scarring. What a lonely world. As I think about it, I love my scars. I have a line on my forehead, it makes me look more pouty when I am just frumpy. I love the scars on my hands because it shows my work ethic. I love other people's scars because it tells you their story. It is a shame that we are all hiding scars. I would love to open my heart and show how many times it has been sewn shut again. It is damaged, yes, but there is a beautiful thing about a wounded heart. One that is mended is a beautiful thing.