Huff Puff

I'm really looking forward to meeting with my therapist tomorrow.  (Never thought I'd say that.)  I haven't made as much progress this week as I would have liked but I'm still here.  I'm still trying.  That counts.  I can't weed out all the dandelions in one go.

I'm also looking forward to my Mom's visit for Christmas.  Remember when I was scared?  It's still new and new is often scary.  But the genuine love and concern from my Mom is a life jacket when I'm lost at sea.

I still want to run. I still want to hide.  Wish the pain away instead of leaning into it.  I've tried it.  Doesn't work so well.  I end up crumpled in front of the fireplace waiting for a miracle.

I do see miracles all around me.

I am blessed beyond my capacity to truly comprehend.

And yet.

I yearn for something more.  I know in the 12 step groups one of the biggest things is letting things go.  Letting Go and Letting God.  Recognizing what I can control and what I cannot. I find that it is easy to say and very hard to do.  If I let go what if I get hurt again?

To which I hear Wolf from The 10th Kingdom say, "Well, maybe you won't get hurt. But, huff-puff, you won't get loved either."

It's been a long day.  And I am grateful, SO grateful, for new friends I have found along this way.
Sorry there's not much more to the post.  I don't have much to offer at the moment.
This is my reality.

Beauty in scars.

Scars are dead tissue.  What caused a scar is usually very painful.  Unsightly lines that disrupt the beautiful.  But in their own way, scars are powerful and beautiful.

Scars tell the story of what we have experienced.

I have a scar on one of my knees (correction I have scars on BOTH my knees but only one is from this experience) from when I was in 7th grade.  I was on the cross country team and for practice we'd run a loop that went by the tennis courts.  I tripped and fell hard.  The scar is still there.  Cross country wasn't easy for me.  I don't actually enjoy running to someone else's command but my friend convinced me to join her.  It wasn't something I had confidence in but I persisted anyway.  I never won any prestigious ribbons.  I came in last, pretty much every race.  But I did it.  I have the scars to prove it.

I have a scar on my chin from sliding in the gutter chin first when I was no older than 7.  I had on fancy dress shoes, I don't know if it was a Sunday or if I was just dressing up.  I was out in the front yard tossing the Koosh ball with my brother and it went into the gutter so I dove for it.  Oops.  Didn't have stitches, just a butterfly bandage.  And now a wrinkly scar on my chin and a memory.

I have a scar on the knuckle of my right thumb from a time I baked my best batch of cookies ever and hit my thumb on the top rack pulling them out. I think they were the perfect batch because I never intended to keep them.  I baked them and mailed them to a friend.

I have a scar on the back of my head somewhere.  I can't see it because my hair hides it.  I fell out of a wagon when I was little.  6 maybe?  I was pretending to drive, steer with the handle while others pushed.  The slope of the driveway made me tip.  I did have to get stitches that time.  My friend's mom took them out for me a few days later. I remember being very scared and brave.

I have a scar on my right shin from running up the bleachers and hitting a bench.  It's numb all the way to the bone still and didn't bleed much.  It was embarrassing but I learned the power of laughter to dispel fear.

Scars are ugly.  And beautiful.  For without any scars what would remind us of our stories?

I hope someday, when this one heals I will be able to tell the story of how this scar showed me that I am stronger than I thought possible, more compassionate than I knew.  I hope to find the beauty in this ugly scar.  I'm beginning to see some of it already.  And that is a wonderful blessing.