My Scar Pt 1

The other day I drove to my job, which is about 5 minutes up the road. No problems...piece a cake. The next day I got behind the wheel and the mere thought of getting on to the highway drove me to tears. I really thought I was alright, and that I would be one of those people who were mentally strong enough to overcome a traumatic experience like that... I was wrong.

I've never felt anxiety like that... Before I even left my housing complex my hands were sweating like I just finished washing them. My heart was thumping hard and loud. I could hear it in my body making African warrior rhythms. I couldn't get comfortable in my seat.... my seat belt was choking me like a noose and I felt as if I was about to panic. Luckily I was with my friend so she drove me to school, but needless to say I was embarrassed.

So many things have changed since I survived being hit by an 18-wheeler. Of course there is the physical trauma that never leaves. The pain might momentarily subside but the aches and pains are deep, and my epidermis layers will never return to perfection. I think about this scar I’ll have and wonder how it will really affect me down the road. My mother keeps saying “It could be worse” Which is SO true and I am thankful that it wasn’t, but there is still a part of me that thinks about this scar with sadness. Call it vanity, but I hate knowing that there will be a piece of my body that will be damaged forever.

Little Kids stare at my bandage everywhere I go. I’m sorry did I say little kids? I meant EVERYONE! I’m sure their imaginations are running rampant, trying to guess that happened to my arm. Some women ask what happened and I simply say “I was in a car accident”. Their curious eyes instantly change to pity expressions and I hear “Oh my Well Bless your little heart!!!” in the thickest Deep South accent. That just makes it worse.

When it all boils down, it’s the mental baggage that really had a hold on me. I don’t want to be the object of pity for the rest of my life. I don’t want to have to keep explaining my scar everywhere I go. I don’t want to feel the need to wear long sleeves in June. I don’t want this scar to manifest insecurities in my self-esteem. I just don’t I want to go back to my regular life!!

But that was in the beginning, and now I think about that word that I so earnest long for....

Regular? Ordinary? customary? Habitual??? Since when is mediocrity an acceptable alternative? I now know that my “regular” life was only sub-par, and I am in the midst of a second opportunity to be more. This accident was more a blessing than I thought it was. I won’t let my scar be motivation for pity, but be a vehicle for my praise. I wondered why God couldn’t just let me walk away unscathed, and in perfect health. But God is letting me and the rest of the world know that my scar is more than just an ugly skin imperfection....it is deep...... meaningful.....beautiful....it is my testimony........



.....to be continued