Or maybe, you're a follower who happened to randomly stumble across this blog. If you are, fantastic! I love new followers. But, I do know what you are thinking..."this girl posts way too much about her offspring." Ha.
Well, today, I am not posting about my offspring. Score one for me.
Clearly, I post a lot of photos. And for anyone that doesn't know me, or maybe doesn't know me well enough to know the story, you might have noticed something on my right arm.
A scar I've carried around with me for 16 years.
I received this scar when I was eleven years old. I was in the sixth grade. I was riding on a three-wheeler with my cousin at my grandparents house when it flipped over trapping me underneath.
My arm took the brunt of it, the exhaust pipe burning my flesh pretty severely. I'll never forget that day. One second, we were laughing, and the next, I was screaming as my cousin struggled to lift the three-wheeler off of me. We then ran a half of a mile down a dirt road to my grandparents house, where we broke the news about what happened.
My family and I then drove an hour back to Wichita icing my arm the entire way, where they could take me to a hospital. I received a skin graph the next morning, and underwent physical therapy for a year longer. In 8th grade, I received an additional surgery.
Today, it's a constant reminder of that day. But husband tells me he doesn't even notice it anymore.
I used to be really self conscious about my scar. And honestly, I still am. But not as much as I used to be.
It's funny, the things I do to hide my scar...get on the right side of photos so my arm is hidden...wear shirts with sleeves...Photoshop it...I've even put make-up on it. Weird, I know. But it helped in my wedding photos.
For some reason, I still get that insecure, empty feeling in my stomach when I catch a stranger staring at it*. It didn't help that I was made fun of a lot in middle and high school for it. Seems cruel, but it really did happen.
Even today, people (grown adults) will stare. A few people tell me they thought it was a nicotine patch and laugh it off.
I'm 28 years old. And still get bothered by the people I find staring at my arm. I always wonder, why don't they just ask me what happened? Don't they know what's it like to be a girl and have a scar on your arm that looks like this? It would be so much easier if I was boy.
And then I tell myself, Stop being ridiculous Krista. It's a scar on your arm. This is nothing compared to what some people have to deal with. You weren't in a tragic car wreck, burned head to toe, or nearly blown up in Iraq. Suck it up. You are lucky. You are blessed.
The truth is, I am lucky. And blessed. It could have been my face or my hand or something much worse than just my arm. I'm lucky that my stupidity to get on that three-wheeler resulted in only this arm scar and not something tragic.
But, after 16 years of carrying around this scar, I've realized something.
Scars are signs that we have experienced something. Overcome something. Symbols that remind us of that experience. Body marks that hold a story or memory. An imperfection that causes stares, but shouldn't make someone feel less perfect at all.
And if that isn't enough, it will teach a lesson. Carson will ask about it someday and I will tell the story. I will teach him about making smart decisions, insecurities and bullying. I will tell him it's OK to be different, and that we should never make someone feel inferior for looking different.
Since that day, I've received several other scars. Two small markings on my stomach from having my appendix removed and a special line scar that travels across my lower abdomen.
This line scar also reminds me of a certain day. A day, and scar, that resulted in the most precious gift I could ever ask for.
*Sometimes, I like to be a huge smart ass and tell people I was bit by a shark in the Caribbean or attacked by an alligator while vacationing in Florida. The funny part? People actually buy it.
5 Comments:
U made me cry I remember that day like it was yesterday and only if we would have listened to ours parents and grandparents that wouldn't of happen but us stubborn ones nevered listened. So off we went down the dirt road going who no how fast laughing are asses off saying we're gonna get busted. We were so stupid lol. I can't even notice it cause ur so beautiful and my favorite cousin ever and only Good times roll with that scare. Happy and so many funny memories. Let's just hope our kids don't do the same to us. Love u cousin
I NEVER notice it either. And I totally understand how you feel since I have the scar across my left cheek and a scar under my lip that never seems to disappear no matter how much makeup I put on (well I don't wear much but even when I try). I'll always be self-conscious about it even when Ryan and other people tell me they don't notice (I'm pretty convinced they are lying). But I've come to terms that maybe these scars really just make us that much cooler :) Love ya Sis!
I've never noticed it either, but I can definitely relate to bullying/teasing and all that crap. In fact, most everyone I know that is awesome, was bullied in junior high or high school. I think it makes us not only stronger, but smarter and better at picking out people that will enhance our lives instead of tearing us down. Great post :)
I totally understand this all too well!! I have a birth mark that looks like a bruise on my right arm. I always see people staring at it (even our pediatrician when we were interviewing her couldn't help but look)!! Everyone always tends to think the worse and that I am being abused because it looks like a hand print. I don't notice it but apparently it bothers other people!! I love this post - thanks so much for posting :)
I'm pretty sure I met you soon after this happened! I remember you telling me the story at gymnastics class! If it helps, I always thought you were cool in middle/highschool. :)
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