As we move through life, we all collect scars. Some more than others, but scars nonetheless. We all bleed our failures and taste the salty tears of regret. Our flesh burns with unfilled dreams, hopes, and desires. We’re all painted from a palette of brokenness, with shades uniquely our own.
But are these beautiful scars all that gets to define us? Or are we defined by the human the scars left? The strong, resilient, determined, and self-loving human under it all.
Standing in my bathroom, running my hands over the skin that greets this world, I can’t help but see the scars the world can’t see. To me, they are as clear as the blemishes that dot my face. I use to believe that my scars, these beautiful badges of torment, defined me. I believed they were all that got to tell my story. I know now that they don’t. Instead, they are just one piece of a larger puzzle.
An incomplete puzzle that for years has been kept hidden for fear that the scars would distort the image that the world would inevitably consume. But scars are no reason to hide the puzzle, especially when it’s far easier to build it in the light of day. Sitting in the sun to build my puzzle doesn’t mean I have to give the world the power to determine the final image.
No, that power rest with me. The power to define who we are lies with all of us.
We are not defined by gods, religions, nor mankind. No matter how hard society works to teach us otherwise. We define ourselves and always should. As we embrace this new season and the change it brings, I challenge you all to define who you are by your own standards and no one else’s.
“Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one’s definition of your life; define yourself.”~ Harvey Fierstein
Copyright(c)2017 Rayven Holmes
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