The ones that leave scars

There have been moments in my life when pieces have been taken out of me — events so profound that they caused wounds that left scars.

It’s universally true: tragedies happen, we lose what we love, we are wounded and we get broken.

All of us.

And when our wounds heal and their scars fade, they’re reminders of what we are made of. We are made of stuff that can be remade, and that is simply a miracle.

It is also true that sometimes unfortunate things happen and we land on our feet, unscathed, or are able to get up and dust ourselves off and move forward.

But, for some, there are the old wounds — the ones that, despite many rising and setting suns and moons, remain unrelenting, painful, itchy, uncomfortable and ugly. Maybe we hate that the healing is taking so long, and we know in our bones that they’re the wounds that will leave their marks on us forever.

Because these old wounds are still open and painful, we pick at them, we slash them, we attempt to unbury them from ourselves, to detach from them and escape them, as if they aren’t us.

But they are us. The wounded parts we attempt to hide are just as much us as the bright, healed parts that we show to the world.

For the rest of your days, Darling, show your whole self. Bathe your wounds in sunlight, let the beauty of the world sink into the entirety of you, rest your tired mind when you need to, hold a hand to your broken heart and trust that all of you can show up and be loved unconditionally — deeply wounded is by no means incompleteness.

Our time here is short. Let the entire you be known, and always hold yourself — your whole self — close.