Every wound that I have suffered came at a cost greater than you could ever know. These are my scars, I’ve paid for them, I own them, they belong to me. They tell my story, they show my past, they are proof that I made it over the mountains and through the storms and beyond the obstacles that came upon me. The noise I make now was once a silence that hid me in the corners and darknesses of my despair. The smile and laughter that accompany my joy in these moments was developed on the not so funny stages that witnessed me, at my worst, but exposed for all to see, share all that I ever was with people who never really understood. My strength, my strength, well my strength comes from a GOD that, in my weakness, made me whole. He allowed me in. He acknowledged and accepted me for everything I had and had been. He saw past it and through me until I saw inside of myself, Him.
So yes I have scars, big ones. Ugly ones. Scars with dark stories and forbidden secrets. Scars with truths that I will never be able to share outside of myself. Yet I am here. And I know who I am. And I am proud of me. Scars and all.