Show Your Scars

Not all scars can be seen with the human eye. Some scars come from deep within, and no matter how much time passes, they fail to fade away. But, eventually, they hurt a little less, and then a little less. And finally, they are there to serve as a constant reminder not of what has happened to us, but yet what we have endured, and overcome.

What do the scars represent? Drug addiction, physical abuse, verbal abuse, rape, self-harm. Every single one of us in this world has a scar or two, or maybe several that tell a story. Some scars are deeper than others, and some take longer to heal.
But, with all of these scars we must remember one thing: We are still breathing. We still wake up every morning. We haven't given up. We still strive every day to fight on, and that means more than anything that has ever tried to stop us before.
18 years old, its one of the most important milestones in our lives, as well as some of the most vulnerable times we have. We find ourselves off to college, or living alone for the first time, having a grown up job and no rules to abide by. For me, 18 is an age I will never forget.

It was one crazy night during my 18 years of living that I decided to drink, and drink, and drink. I drank away the memory of failing my physiology test that day. I drank away the memory of that guy who had called me fat that morning as I made my way to class. I drank away my ability to decipher what was going on around me.

As I collapsed on my bed in a heap that night, chaperoned by my sober roommate, the last thing I remember is my mind pleading for sleep. I drift into blackness, until suddenly I feel my body moving. I struggle to understand what is happening, trying desperately to remember where I am. I lift my hand in the darkness and feel a face above me. Still not being able to grasp what's going on, somehow I find my voice and croak “who are you?" I lay still as I start to realize what's happening. I find myself helpless as the unknown attacker begins his assault, and then, I drift back into darkness.

Sometimes I am thankful I don't remember every single detail of that night. At times a word or a phrase suddenly brings me back to that night, and I catch a glimpse of something I hadn't remembered before.

I used to think I was a victim. I used to play the poor me game, drowning myself in tears and sorrow.

But, then I realized, it wasn't helping me. It was only plunging me further and further into the drowning current of no return.
We are not alone in our scars. Every single person you pass on the street bears them. Some are fresh; others have gently faded, leaving only a distinct remembrance of what took place. We can choose to hide our scars in shame, or we can bear them for the world to see. We can come together in our scars, our mistakes, our past, we can overcome them. I am not a victim. I do not have scars because I am prey. I have scars because I decided to fight back against my demons.

I am not a prisoner of my past; I am a survivor of my future.

So roll up your sleeves, break down those barriers, and show the world your scars.