Scars are Souvenirs
“Being vulnerable when I’d rather hide is the best way to help people understand. Pulling away builds walls around us that accomplish nothing more than blocking out the beauty that can grow in broken places. Revealing scars is hard and humbling, but they are souvenirs that tell your own unique story.” – Glass Half Empty: Finding Peace in the God of Overflowing Grace
I LOVE being with people. I'm outgoing. I talk to strangers…A LOT; to the point where we often wind up exchanging numbers and being friends from that moment on. I don’t always hide my body when it’s covered in pain patches or a heat rash. I don't always wear makeup. I will most likely be in Pjs if you come for dinner. I’ll stop to pop my meds, open your sinuses while I rub tiger balm into my aching joints (you’re welcome), throw an icepack on my neck or a heating pad on my back where/whenever I need to. I’ll tell you how I really am, if sincerely asked, and sometimes it might be TMI. I’ll unashamedly whip out the little pouch of condiments that I keep in my purse so I don’t have to drive someone crazy by asking for them when I'm out. I’ll sport a neck fan that hangs around my neck when I overheat, which is often. Sometimes, when pain has me flat, I'll even eat with you on TV trays while I lay in my bed or on the couch because I'd rather power through the pain than cancel our time together.
But, sometimes, when it comes to my health, being vulnerable is hard. Having a mile long list of diagnoses in a life with chronic pain is daunting, complicated, and sometimes just too laborious to explain. It might sound strange but the online world is far more frightening to me than real life. Maybe I feel more in control of what’s right in front of me? Whatever the reason, it's why I've been hiding behind a screen for years, only posting things without much depth, like Disney art and home decor. “Who can be unkind if that’s all I'm posting,” I reasoned? It felt safer to watch than to participate. People can be cruel. The world can be polarizing. You can misread or inject meaning into conversations because you aren't able to see someone's demeanor through a screen. A keyboard can inflict a blow of words and opinions you didn't ask for. You're likely to be misunderstood. You're likely to be ridiculed, given unhelpful unsolicited advice, or “canceled.” There’s a risk to telling our stories. There’s a risk to being who we really are. It has taken four years to write my memoir and it’s been one of the hardest things I've ever done. Peeling back the layers of some of the most personal experiences of my life and interpreting how they have shaped me was not for my faint heart. But, somehow, God thought it was and propelled me forward with his strength. So here I am.
The truth is, there’s no cure-all. All of our bodies are different and complex. What works for one doesn’t work for someone else. What helps some of my symptoms subside might make other issues that I have worse. In my case, chronic illness is a tangled web of multiple diagnoses which make the treatment for each complicated and complex. I don't want to be defensive, socially awkward, or “get weird” (Kyle’s coined phrase for such times) when someone asks questions pertaining to my health. I don’t want to silently suffer in the cyber world anymore. I know that God has a purpose in all of it, I only wish I would’ve been more brave years ago to tell the story I’m telling now. One of my favorite quotes lately is, “Today is the first day of the rest of your life.” I'm moving forward despite what’s been left behind and trusting that God has used, is using, and will use my story as I press on with his strength.
I once read a quote and it has stuck – “The worst thing you can do to a person with an invisible illness is make them feel like they need to prove how sick they are.” (Author Unknown) I hope those who are hurting will be encouraged, knowing they aren’t alone, and that caregivers and friends feel more equipped to walk alongside the wounded with wisdom and patient love.
- Erin
