Faded But Not Totally Gone
On the news this week there was a story about a young girl that had been bitten in the face by an alligator. The jaws clamped down literally over one of her eyes and down to her cheekbone. But in looking at her, her scars are minimal. Extraordinary!
The interviewer was asking her about her scars and asked if she was relieved that they were almost totally non-existent and the young lady said no, the if anything, she was sad they were faded away because it meant that her opportunities to educate others about what had happened to her was becoming less and less.
This is an interesting point.
As the months pass by, my scars too have faded. If I am standing under hot water or something they become clear, but on a regular day, they aren't nearly as obvious as they used to be.
I've never obsessed about my scars really. I made them and have embraced them as part of who I am.
But now that they are fading away, who I am is slowly changing.
In the past, people asked me about them.
But it's been months since that has happened.
I used to be self-conscious about the shirts I wore.
Now I wear pretty much what I like.
I didn't ever expect there to be a time when self-injury wasn't a part of my life, so imagine my surprise to find out that the scars I always knew would be there, are over time, disappearing.
I can't say I'm sad about this fact but it is odd to look down at my arms and not have scars be the first thing I see.
I understand what the young girl meant about educating others. When people saw her scars, because they were in such a unique position, they asked her what happened and that segwayed into an educational opportunity.
But now the segway doesn't exist and to just randomly come out with her story seems untimely.
I feel the same way.
Without my scars being evident, people don't know anything used to be wrong and therefore don't ask.
As time passes, that part of my life becomes further and further something I'm removed from and I don't talk about it as often as I once did.
In the past, I felt fractured because I was living a lie and couldn't tell the world my secret.
But now I feel once again like I am two people: Vanessa as a self-injurer and Vanessa without it.
It's weird. After three years of not injuring I am continuing to learn about myself and re-define who I am.
The old Vanessa is faded, but not totally gone.
That's a good thing. The scars showed where I'd been but to have them fading shows how far I've come.
The interviewer was asking her about her scars and asked if she was relieved that they were almost totally non-existent and the young lady said no, the if anything, she was sad they were faded away because it meant that her opportunities to educate others about what had happened to her was becoming less and less.
This is an interesting point.
As the months pass by, my scars too have faded. If I am standing under hot water or something they become clear, but on a regular day, they aren't nearly as obvious as they used to be.
I've never obsessed about my scars really. I made them and have embraced them as part of who I am.
But now that they are fading away, who I am is slowly changing.
In the past, people asked me about them.
But it's been months since that has happened.
I used to be self-conscious about the shirts I wore.
Now I wear pretty much what I like.
I didn't ever expect there to be a time when self-injury wasn't a part of my life, so imagine my surprise to find out that the scars I always knew would be there, are over time, disappearing.
I can't say I'm sad about this fact but it is odd to look down at my arms and not have scars be the first thing I see.
I understand what the young girl meant about educating others. When people saw her scars, because they were in such a unique position, they asked her what happened and that segwayed into an educational opportunity.
But now the segway doesn't exist and to just randomly come out with her story seems untimely.
I feel the same way.
Without my scars being evident, people don't know anything used to be wrong and therefore don't ask.
As time passes, that part of my life becomes further and further something I'm removed from and I don't talk about it as often as I once did.
In the past, I felt fractured because I was living a lie and couldn't tell the world my secret.
But now I feel once again like I am two people: Vanessa as a self-injurer and Vanessa without it.
It's weird. After three years of not injuring I am continuing to learn about myself and re-define who I am.
The old Vanessa is faded, but not totally gone.
That's a good thing. The scars showed where I'd been but to have them fading shows how far I've come.