Everyone has a scar, and likely a very vivid memory to associate with it. From physical scars due to childhood falls, injuries, or a dumb idea, to internal scars that run deep and can be difficult to heal. No one is perfect, we’re all scarred. So, why are we so afraid to show them?
Today, I’m braving my scar for you, in hopes that you share yours with the world.
When I was born, doctors diagnosed me with Scoliosis. For those of you who may not know, Scoliosis is a condition of the spine that causes atypical curvature, uneven hips and shoulders, and can cause mild to severe back pain. The severity of scoliosis is measured by the degree of curvature in the spine. The condition only affects 2-3% of the population, and the cause is usually unknown.
Growing up, I attended a yearly check-up to X-Ray and assess my Scoliosis. Doctors never saw much of an urgency to put me in a brace. Many practice a “watch and wait” method for adolescents with less than a 25º curve, assessing progression year-by-year. Fast forward to my Sophomore year of High School. I went to my annual scoliosis check up with my parents to find out my curve had progressed to such a large degree, that it was crucial to operate. This news wasn’t necessarily kindly delivered to us. It really went more along the lines of “your curve is 57º. That’s bad. You’ll need surgery. Here’s how I’ll do it…”
Needless to say, we scrapped that Doc real quick.
We found another surgeon, and in the meantime of getting an appointment, I took a day-trip with my Dad to see a bracing company whose technology has been renowned in the Scoliosis world. In hindsight, I give my dad the credit for researching and seeking alternatives before going under the knife. But this brace was a nightmare. Worn 23 hours per day, the soft brace was basically a glorified cloth diaper with velcro, where straps were fitted around your body to pull your spine where it should be. It was thin and really wasn’t terribly noticeable, but it messed up the way my pants fit AND I almost peed my pants in the bathroom of O’Hare Airport, but not after hysterically crying that it was ugly and horrible. The brace unfortunately was not correcting my curve, and surgery was inevitable.
I remember feeling angry before the operation, asking “why me?” The thought of a foot-long scar running down my back, let alone the rods, screws, and bone fusion that would occur, made me shudder. As I healed from the 10 and a half hour operation enough to be out in public, I found myself searching for shirts and dresses that covered my entire back. The skin was still new and purple and, to me, kind of terrifying. Putting on a bathing suit made me feel self conscious that people would stare and ask questions. Humans have this tendency to think that people are staring and talking about them. In reality, I feel like 90% of the time, no one’s really even paying attention at all.
On the surface, with clothes covering my back, I could walk around and drive {sort of, I backed into ONE car one day} and those who knew nothing about me wouldn’t suspect that I had been through a harsh spinal fusion. That honestly was nice, knowing that those who didn’t know me wouldn’t stare or ask. But there was one day, only months after surgery, that I parked in a handicapped spot at CVS, put up the handicapped placard and started to walk toward the store entrance. A woman in the car next to me touched my shoulder, stopped me, and said “excuse me. You are clearly not handicapped. Do you know how horrible it is to be doing what you’re doing?” In hindsight, today I would have gone off on this lady. In that moment, I could feel my face getting red. I told her “I had spinal surgery just a couple months ago, thank you” and walked into the store.
It got me thinking… You may not be able to see everyone’s scars on a daily basis, but it doesn’t mean they don’t exist and it doesn’t mean that people aren’t going through something, or hurting, or trying really hard to get better. It was a lesson for me, that I still sometimes lose sight of.
We don’t know what others are going through at any given moment. Scars go deeper than just physical marks. They’re internal memories, struggles, traumas, or stories that we wear every day. We can choose to embrace them and allow us to shape ourselves around our experiences, encouraging others to do the same. Or we can hide them and hope that others don’t learn about them.
Today, I’m encouraging you to brave your scar. It doesn’t have to be writing to the public about it, it doesn’t have to be posting pictures of it. It could be telling someone close to you about something you’ve experienced, telling a therapist something you’ve maybe withheld, or even just walking around knowing that you are an amazing human despite what you’ve struggled through.
Despite it all, you are beautiful, your scar is beautiful, and you make this world a beautiful place. Brave it.