Someone recently asked me if I was bothered by my scars. "How could I be? I'm marked head to toe?" was my quick smiling answer. I am not an old soul with grace flowing with every breath. I walk into poles, walls, glass doors.
I was only eight years old when one day after school I sneaked into the TV room of our one story house. I should have been sitting on my bed sulking that I was on punishment (for grades as always). The moment the phone rang, I flew into motion to answer it. I knew it had to be my mom doing her daily check in from work. I ran with such determination I crashed through our sliding glass door. An inch thick of untempered glass shattered. With the phone still ringing, I crawled on my hands and knees through the shards. My sister came charging out of her room. "Robyn! What did you break now!" Poor girl. She screamed all the way to the neighbors. I yelled after her that I could handle the mess. She completely ignored me! I made it to the phone, but no one was on the other line.
That one moment makes up the bulk of my scars and I guess my character too. I wasn't cut up in a pretty Hollywood way with clean forehead lines that would fade in time. My face was cut completely open along with my feet. My mouth, chin, and hands were sliced open. I lost every friend I had and it was years before anyone said I was pretty again.
Since then I've accrued more scars (along with a few concussions and broken bones). I try real hard not to live as if my head were a battering ram, but just this past Christmas there I was in Toys R Us and a pole that had no business being the middle of the store!
The person who turned my thoughts back to that day, smiled and said, "How about your freckles?"
Think Out Loud is as cool as it sounds. Share whatever is on your mind because we'd love to hear from you whether it's a song, dream, gripe, trip down memory lane. This is a sky's the limit kind of meme!
Thanks for sharing this, Robyn. I also have my fair share of scars. I can’t recall how many times I got myself injured riding a bicycle when I was younger. I remember two, though: first one was a face-to-face crash with a motorcycle. The second one, I was on the backseat of the bicycle, with my older brother pedalling in front, and then I mistakenly slipped my foot into the fast rolling wheel. I have some scars to remind me of the incident.
ReplyDeleteThen last year's crash and fracture left a major scar on my right leg. I'm not 100% yet. Someone asked me sometime in June if I wasn't bothered with using a walking stick up until this moment. But I just smiled and said nothing. I was just tired of telling people that I'm happy with surviving an accident and passing through the healing stages than caring about what they thought of me or my scars.
Great post, Robyn! I love it. :)
I remember reading your post on last year's accident. I immediately felt a kinship, though I was never in that situation (so scary and painful, Kaykay). I like your response to the question. Some people simply don't realize moving up to a walking stick was a hard-fought battle. My boys point at one of my scars and wait for the story that goes with it. John has two good ones already. None for Will yet, but he does have my freckles.
DeleteHere's to life marking us, making sure we never forget.
Have a great weekend, Kaykay!!
I'm glad you don't mind your scars or freckles, Robyn. You should be proud of them. These things are what make us unique individuals. I'm not graceful either and while I've never gone through a sliding glass door, I do have a hole in my shin from walking into a hearth and a bumpy scar on my knee from tripping over a curb. And my son recently asked how many freckles I have...my answer was more than he could possibly count. I wish everyone would remember that the marks on our bodies have stories and make us who we are and should be worn as badges of courage! ;) Not things we should be ashamed of. Thanks for sharing this, Robyn.
ReplyDeleteI feel the exact same way. 4 year old John has two scars so far (turns out he's just like me). He loves pointing them out to me. Hours after he did a huge face plant in the parking lot I told him the burn on his elbow will scar (I knew that would cheer him up). Will moves like water so he won't be walking into walls, but he has my freckles. So cute!
DeleteHappy weekend, Brandee!!
I have some scars, too. I broke two bones in my ankle almost a year ago and had surgery to put two pins and a screw in to hold it together. There are three scars on my foot from that surgery - one on the left side, one on the right side, and one on the front of my foot. I'm thinking about getting a tattoo there to make my foot look like I'm an android taking inspiration from the cover for Cinder, lol.
ReplyDeleteThen in December I had my gallbladder removed, so there are three or four scars from that.
I think there isn't anything to hide. Scars do tell our stories. I'm glad you're okay after the broken glass incident. I would've been freaking out if I walked out and saw my sister crawling through glass, omigosh.
It really messed my sister up seeing that scene. She won't read this post even though it happened so long ago. Other than two of my wisdom teeth, I haven't had to be knocked out. Your surgeries sound like big ordeals, especially the recover! John was up and running two days after his kidney was taken out. I was lucky I was a kid when I got hurt.
DeleteI love your tattoo idea! If you do it, you'll have to take a pic and send it to Marissa Meyer. I was so lucky with the glass accident because nothing was severed and I was cut up from my nose down, I could have been blinded (or worse).
Have a great weekend, Donnie Darko Girl!
Robyn, I am glad you are alive. I lost a brother because of him running through a glass door.
ReplyDeleteYou are a beautiful person to me and I've never even met you! Your writing has a way of making me feel like you're talking to your best friend.
Thanks for posting.
Oh, Think, what a terrible loss. I warned my mom and sister about this post because I knew they wouldn't want to read it. Shannon told me she just recently remembered that day without crying. My mom did not make the same claim. And just a few months ago my dad let it slip I had three times as many stitches as I grew up believing I got that day. I knew at the time my life teetered between pain and nothing. I guess that's why I didn't go crazy when they sewed me back up while I was wide awake.
DeleteYour words mean so much to me. I won't forget them.
I gotta tell you kid. Your post did it again to me. I can't stop crying. I know it was bad for you, but you were spared with having to wait (waiting, listening to you scream for it to be over) with Judy. It's been more than 25 years and I still get a hitch. You wanted to clean up your mess. I also remember the neighbor boys right across the street from us thought call 911 was a joke. It was the neighbors down the street who called. They knew it wasn't a joke. Their own daughter had a boating accident. She fell over and her legs were caught in the propeller. It has been so long, I don't see the scar anymore, I just see you. Get that kid.
ReplyDeleteI don't remember screaming, but I remember begging them to stop giving me more shots. That is terrible Shannon for you. You had to wait with Judy? Mom's business partner? I didn't know that either. I remember those jerk boys! I didn't know the story about the propeller. I was too wussy for stories like that. Remember when I fainted because the neighborhood kids stomped on gekko eggs? I was so upset I just fainted. You did good that day, Shan. I was determined to clean up my mess. The paramedics had to stop me and take the paper towels out of my hands.
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