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Thursday, March 18, 2010

Beauty from the Ashes



Beauty. Ah beauty. It jumps out at you from the covers of magazines, beckons from the cosmetic department, and mocks you as you stand in front of a closet bulging with clothes that someday you vow you WILL fit into again. It's the taunting voice in your head that whispers all the ways you will never measure up.

Beauty isn't always pretty.

Sarah Markley's blog this week is about beauty. Five women have written posts on her blog about beauty. And she asked her readers to write a post on their blogs about their thoughts on the subject. Of course, a million topics sprung to mind- my love/hate relationship with my mirror. That I will never come to terms with the fact that I am almost six feet tall and I hate it. My ongoing battle with my weight. That no amount of makeup will ever make me feel pretty. And don't even get me started on my hair.... But the one thing that has affected me most kept tugging at me. And it wouldn't go away. Everything else I tried to write about seemed to fall apart. The post below wasn't easy to write. It's ugly, it's scary, it's not pretty. My family and friends don't know this about me, and it's probably going to make the people closest to me upset to read about this. But still I felt compelled to tell it. And one thing I've learned is that ignoring that still small voice in your soul is never a good idea. I've carried this secret long enough.


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My arm is ugly. It's a mess of scars. Some long-healed and some still fresh. No, it's not the result of an accident, or surgery, or an illness.

They're self-inflicted. I was, I am, a cutter.

I wear long sleeves year round. On the rare occasion I can't wear long sleeves, I'm always conscious of keeping my arm hidden. Lying and secrecy has become an art.

When my little sister died two years ago at the age of 20, my life fell apart. I never got the chance to speak the things I'd left unspoken for far too many years. My thought was to shut her out before she hurt me again. The wounds of the past were too difficult, and I was tired of bearing the brunt of her anger and her depression. I let myself get steeped into resentment and anger and I built a wall between us. When she died, the guilt of that fractured relationship consumed me and overwhelmed me. Guilt is a powerful thing. It can take over your life. It creeps into your heart, thoughts, and wreaks havoc on your relationships.

With the first drag of the blade came a sense of overwhelming relief. "This hurts- alot. But I know why it hurts. The pain is real, it's controlled, and I can be the one to control it. I alone can make it start and I decide when to make it stop." That's how it started. When it became too much, I cut. I've been through counseling for it, and even though it's better, it's still a reality I struggle with all the time. And according to my therapist, there's no magic "cure". It's just a matter of finding another way to cope. For me, sometimes just seeing the scars is enough. Sometimes it's not.

My pain's been hidden- by my own doing. My cuts bleed in silence and shame. There's nothing beautiful about it. Beauty has no place in scars. In blood. In tears.

Or does it?

Can there be beauty in heartache?

When I reach for the blade and instead set it aside, there's beauty in healing.

When I receive an e-mail from a friend who wanted to check in on me, there's beauty in compassion and understanding.

When I seek solace from my cousin, there's beauty in being comforted.

When I look for relief from God instead of from a blade, there's beauty in grace.

When I tell my story on a blog, there's beauty in freedom.

My arm is ugly. My pain is ugly. Grief is ugly. My sister's death nearly destroyed me. But beauty can still rise from the ashes, and beauty is what transforms my scars.

I am a work in progress. But I'm not giving in. My scars won't define me, but they are still a part of me. It's a map of where I've been, and will someday show how far I've come.

And that is what makes me beautiful.

9 comments:

terri st. cloud said...

when you offer all that you are - there is beauty.

the tears are pouring down my face.

you opened a door today, lis....

step thru it, girl....

i am so with you.

Merry ME said...

Melissa,
I came here from Terri's blog. There are many things I'd like to say yet I don't want them to sound like a sermon. I'll start by saying you are a brave woman. telling your truth is what will heal you.

Not a lot of people know it, but I have also been a cutter. Hmmm, actually more of a wanna-be cutter. Does that make sense? The bottom line is I'm too scared of the pain to cut too deep. Maybe I'm more of a scratcher! I don't have scars on my arms, yet oddly I can see them or feel them at times when I'm really hurting inside. When I'm in a lot of emotional pain, I raise my arms up as if in praise, but I know it's because they are crying out to be cut to release the inner pain.

I hope it helps to know you are not alone. I hope it helps to know that with work and trust and hope and love you WILL get past the pain. You WILL come to a place of peace. Grief does not last forever. Yet each loss might trigger old memories.

AsI was reading about your scars I thought about the small scar I have had on my face since I was 18 months old. In my eyes it is large and easily seen by others. In reality it is no bigger than a pencil eraser. I was a grown woman when a friend pointed out that it was a perfect heart shaped. I immediately embraced the scar as a beauty mark - a sign of love. Sometimes all it takes to change a long standing attitude is to see things in a different light. is

Be gentle with yourself. Love yourself. Trust yourself. Let other loving souls into your world.

May you know blessings and peace.

Pamela Jones said...

Dear Melissa,

Terri's blog alerted me to your post, and I wanted to let you know that I've read your pain and your beauty. Although I don't for a second deny your pain, I want you to know that it is your beauty -- your truth -- that shines through.

I am a mother who outlived her son. The last words I spoke to him the day he died were, "Don't slam the door!" It took me a long time to let go of the guilt and wanting to take back those words and replace them with something like, "I love you," but life just is messy sometimes, and we don't get do-overs. I have a saying that grief is love turned inside out. If your grief is incredibly ugly, then your love for your sister must be incredibly deep. And that is beautiful!

AkasaWolfSong said...

I've arrived here Melissa via Terri's blog...

As I read your words just now I fell in love with the beautiful, graceful, loving person you are on the inside...the person who feels her pain...I may not be a cutter but pain is pain...and I've had a good share, having lost a Mother at eleven and a son as well...the only difference was I used alcohol to numb myself.

I see you flinging that 'pain' door wide open and stepping through it...you already have?

That is victorious! And I agree with each woman here who has responded to you...that I am with you all the way...your Inner Beauty shines brightly and is a bright beacon for all of us!

Be Proud of Yourself no matter what...you will look back on these days and see the true miracle that is You!

faerian said...

icame from Terri's blog too... i have no words but honour your heart's journey through this ...

Sherry said...

For a long time now, I have defined Beauty as such: "A recognition of Truth." When we free our Truth, our Beauty becomes apparent. Not to everyone, for people's hearts don't always speak the same language and can't always understand, but the people whose Truth is in sync with our own, and there the ones that matter. Congrats on this big step and good luck on your journey!
I, too, was led by Terri. :)

Colleen said...

You are so brave to share something so personal and painful. There IS beauty in healing, and I know that God will continue the process of healing your grief and pain as you continue on your journey. Thank you for being brave and sharing that. (Found you through Sarah's blog.)

Jennifer {Studio JRU} said...

There definitely is beauty in God's grace. There is beauty in sharing your heart the way you did here. We are ALL a work in progress! :)

Glad to have found you through Sarah's beauty link list!

~Jennifer
www.studiojru.com

Dinahmyte said...

I have so many <3's to send you from all the way up here sitting in my silly purple room across from the library. I miss you, pretty lady. This was a beautiful post and you're a beautiful woman. I never have anything good to say at these times, but boy do I love you.