Scars

I have a tiny scar on my left knee. No one else has ever noticed it or pointed it out. But I know it’s there.

We used to live on a street with a deceptively steep hill. It seemed like just a slight decline from our house, but once you headed down it, you realized how steep it really was. There were lots of injuries created by that hill. My brother knocked out his two front teeth skateboarding down it. And I, not the most athletic kid ever, was roller skating and wasn’t able to stop. Now I have the aforementioned scar.

Thinking back, I’m not sure I ever went back down that hill after that traumatic fall. The memories of falling were burned into my brain and I let my fear stop me from trying again.

I recently read a quote that stuck with me: Don’t become your scars.

I thought about that phrase a lot this weekend. Saturday morning, I spoke at Camp Strong4Life, the Children’s wellness camp designed for children and their families. I shared a little bit of my story and then they asked me questions. I had no idea how that experience would affect me even several days later.

I told them that I understood how they felt. That I remembered being 12. Being made fun of and bullied. Not liking myself. Sneaking food and hiding the evidence. It’s hard enough to grow up, but when you feel like an outcast, as I suppose we all do at some point, it’s even worse.

I walked around camp for a while after I finished. I talked to parents and kids. A few of the moms asked me for advice. It hurt my heart that I don’t have all the answers. But what I did tell them was the truth: the fact they care enough about their children to spend the weekend with them, learning about nutrition and exercise was a great step. What lucky kids to be so very loved.

But I have to be honest with you all. Meeting those kids was like confronting a part of me I had forgotten. It was uncovering those scars I had kept hidden. Have I become my scars? Or have I let them become part of me.

See, I think the latter is OK. I think our scars are part of what makes us who we are. Each represents a battle fought, whether won or lost. I may have lost my battle with that hill from my childhood. But I am working to win my battle against food addiction and feelings of worthlessness.

Camp stirred up a lot of feelings for me. I think I’m still processing it. So this is a topic I’ll continue in future blogs. In the meantime, tell me. Do you think you have become your scars? Or have they become part of you?