Scars Are Beautiful Until They Are My Own

Someone once quoted the words, "none of your scars can make me love you less." And I replied, "All of your scars make me love you more."

The rub here is that I don't feel more beautiful because of MY scars. Not my physical scars and not my emotional scars. I even worry that when it comes time to apply for teaching jobs or find a lover, having a large electronic footprint will be a problem in that aspect. This blog, my columns, my tweeting about health, hospice, and patient advocacy.. and of course, my patient stories -- they all feel so vulnerable to me.

I don't write about much of my private life here. Mostly I write about one set of things in my life. But it is enough. And actually, it is a big deal to me because I am an inherently private person. Those of you who have gotten to know me better have said to me, "I never knew how much of you you DON'T share until I found out how much more of you there is to know."

Of course, right? We are so much more than a pixilated identity. We are so so much more than any one thing we can share. And yet- it is hard to remember that. And more over, it is hard for me to remember that as much as I love other people and find them inherently beautiful for their stories and their sharing - I deserve the same.

I work for a great deal of emotional honesty and integration... though sometimes I fail and mess up, the only way I can continue the life I want is to seek out people who want the same life as me. People of integrity, people who are kind and honest, people who love and cherish each other and give back to the world.

Meanwhile- it is still my truth that I never feel as beautiful as the people I have met along my path. I feel vulnerable and out of context... and really -- I only hope someone can look at me and find me valuable and beautiful because of my scars.