Tuesday, May 29, 2012


I was thinking about scars and how many I have, wondering if I could remember where each came from.  When I was young, it seemed everyone had that little circle on their upper left arm that indicated they'd been vaccinated against small pox, a horrendous disease that has now been eradicated.  This scar seemed okay because everyone had it.  

My second noticeable scar was in the center of my forehead, the result of chicken pox.  This must have been during first or second grade.  Still nothing traumatic for me.  

But then in fifth grade, I was in the bath tub while my mom was filling the glass fish bowl.  The bottom broke out of the bowl.  A jagged piece of glass made a large gash on the back of my left hand.  This required several stitches and now marked me as being "different."  This is when I started noticing scars that other people had and how ugly they were...and how ugly I now was, also.  Later I thought I'd never find anyone who would marry me because my left hand...the one with the ring finger...was disfigured. 

But I managed to marry.  Then came divorce scars that seemed invisible on the outside. 

In my 20s I got down to serious scars—surgery—female problems.  The only thing that kept me from feeling grotesque was that these scars were in covered up places.  Nobody else could see them, so I otherwise remained "cute".

A new marriage erased some of those emotional scars.  Everything was great when the baby arrived and until the second divorce a few years later.

Another surgery and another surgery.  The scars were accumulating.  Many of my surgeries involved removing "spare parts," still with scars that could be covered up.  And it took me three-and-a-half decades to realize all these "ugly" people I've seen with scars must have a sad history with pain and suffering involved in the receipt of theirs.

Another marriage, more surgeries, more scars, and another divorce.

Finally, in my 50s, for over a decade, I found "The One."  Love struck stronger and more powerful than ever before.   Love for someone who was unavailable.  It's been ripping at my heart so long there's now a hole there that will never heal...and never have a visible scar.  I suffered all of that excruciating pain with no healing.  The hole in my heart is where I need a scar the most.

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