Scars

Hands up who has an impressive scar?

I don’t have anything particularly impressive, I’ve never had surgery, or major accident, but I’ve got a really clear scar on my forearm that I picked up a few years ago when I sliced it open on a nameplate (of all things!) at my old office.

The wound has long healed, but I still see the scar every day, sometimes multiple times a day.

I remember when I got my darling (now-departed, most excellent cat) Harley Waffles 12 years ago, and the constant scratches I carried on my arms, legs, and anywhere else he could playfully attack, given the chance.

Those scars mostly all healed, and I can’t really see them anymore, although I’m sure there’s still memory in my cells of every bite and playful attack…

I look to my knees, and I can see multiple layers of scars – from when I fell down a flight of stairs (one of many such incidents, if I’m being honest) when I was living young and wild and free in Canada, well over a decade ago. And from when I fell arse-over-teakettle taking a shortcut across a creek 4 years ago, or when I more recently stacked it while moving out of my townhouse this past September, and gouged chunks out of my knee that stuck to my leggings as I wincingly peeled them off. If you haven’t caught on yet, I’m pretty clumsy.

I can still see and feel all of those deep scars, and although some have paled, some are still purple, and I can’t kneel on my right knee the same way I used to.

All of these scars represent events in my life that have had an impact, physically and metaphorically. My body will remember those impacts, whether I’m left with a noticeable reminder, or if the scars heal and disappear, and my mind forgets the exact play-by-play of the incidents.

The traumas we carry through our lives are very much like these scars. Some are deep, and will never disappear, and others will fade away, their edges blurred and dissolved by the grace of time.

We can complain and begrudge our scars till the day we die, or we can make peace with them being there as another part of who we are, and no longer try to cover them. We can find the ability to gently trace them with our fingertips, and grow the capacity to gently hold and love ourselves, scars and all.

We can look at our trauma like the scars we carry. Everyone’s traumas are unique, and although a lot look and feel similar, our bodies will react to our wounds uniquely. The way we heal will depend on how we choose to care for, or neglect, our wounds.

We can tend to our burns by applying soothing, cool running water at the time of the injury, or we can try to shake it off and carry on, feeling the sting for a lot longer, and loathing the blemish that’s left, even years later into our life.

Unlike our physical scars, trauma healing can happen at any time. Whether we are recently injured, or have hidden wounds decades old, we can learn to care for our scars, and learn to hold love for ourselves, no matter how bruised or battered we were, or still are.

When we understand how resourceful and clever our survival drives are, and how we have unconsciously adapted the way we operate, we can form a new appreciation for how incredibly intelligent our bodies are. They have been ensuring we remain safe this whole time – by forming these metaphoric scar tissues to protect us.

We think all our ‘smarts’ are up in our brains, and in the things we have learned from external sources. But these days we are being reminded of the wisdom and knowledge we hold within. The wisdom that isn’t taught or learned, but that which is inherently instinctive. We are learning more about the links between our gut and our brain, and how our different internal systems work together. We are understanding how neurotransmitters are produced in the gut, bringing new meaning to the term ‘gut instinct’ – as it turns out, our guts know things long before our brains finally catch up.

Unfortunately, we are trained from an early age to disregard the signals and messages being given. We push down and ignore twinges, heaviness, tightness, stomach contractions, pressure, and a million other physical manifestations of emotion (which I’ve heard wonderfully explained as ‘e-motion – energy in motion’). And instead, we use our logic to make decisions and make judgements and tell our quaking insides to ‘stop being so dramatic’ when triggered.

When we can work WITH our bodies, and look inwards, and know that our emotions aren’t to be feared, but instead felt, we can start to decipher and understand the messages our bodies have been sending us.

It is exhausting being in a frequent (or even constant) state of activation or shutdown. And often we don’t recognise that we’re even IN these states. But here’s the good news – our nervous systems WANT to heal. They want to regulate. We just need to provide them with a safe environment to express what they need to, and shift that energy – allow our energy to be in motion – and complete the cycle.

Sometimes the energy needs to be felt and experienced, to be acknowledged and expressed fully. Sometimes it has plenty to say; important messages that we need to hear. Sometimes, it needs a safe place to exist, big enough to hold it safely, and to know it is welcomed, and not shunned like society tells us we should.

Society has spent decades telling us to cover our scars and traumas, to keep them hidden. But some of us are trying to create a world where nobody ever needs to pretend that they don’t have scars. Where trauma healing is recognised as a brave and essential part of our development, and every part of us is welcomed, embraced, and celebrated for authenticity and uniqueness.

If you have found yourself wishing for a more compassionate world, you first need to find compassion for yourself. For the things within you that you have denied, ignored, wished away. Healing your own trauma will increase your ability to hold others safely as they experience their own.

Caring for your scars will show others its ok to care for theirs also.

And maybe, just maybe, one scarred and perfectly imperfect soul after another, we can heal this world. I know it’s worth a shot.