Yesterday, I had a moment with my little sister. We finally sat down and had a real honest talk about the effect that being hit by a car had on us.
Translation: we had a big ole crying fest. And not the cute, my makeup is still fine crying. It was the ugly, snot bubbles, I’m glad no one is recording this type of cry. (We kind of creeped my dog out; he just kept trying to kiss us both.)
But the truth of the matter is that I am not the same the same person that I was before a car plowed into me. I have scars, I’m missing some parts of my body while other pieces have been added. Close friends call me bionic woman. I have enough metal in my body that if something were to ever happen to me, they could identify me by the serial numbers. (That’s kind of morbid, but it’s the truth.)
Even though I know I should feel proud of my scars, that I should feel like a survivor, the truth is I don’t. Yes, I could have died. Yes, I’ve had 5 major surgeries because of this accident. I might’ve had to re-learn how to walk from a wheelchair, but when I look at my body I don’t see any of that.
I see the scars. I see the missing parts. I feel the added parts. I’m 25, with aches like a 70 year old.
It’s kind of hard to feel proud. It’s even harder to feel beautiful or attractive.
I shared these feelings with my sister and she understood. Somewhere along the way, my little sister grew up to be a perceptive young lady and I’m happy that she’s mine. The conversation was long and intense. I learned a lot about my sister yesterday; I never knew how strong and resilient she was.
It was while looking at her and realizing how amazing she is that I came to a resolution: I would relearn how to love myself. They say that a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. With me, this journey will begin with a single photograph.
I intend to take a picture of myself everyday, regardless of whether or not I feel attractive. I’m going to take pictures while dressed up to go to work, in pajamas, in my bonnet, when my hair is slaying and when it looks like I’ve been electrocuted. I’m going to take so many pictures that I’ll get tired of seeing me. I’ll take so many pictures that I’ll fill up my memory card.
The plan is normalcy. If I can view myself now as the status quo, I (hopefully) will start to remember why I
loved love myself. I am more than my scars; It’s time I remind myself.