I'm writing this in the wee hours of the morning, on December 31st, 2015. For me, it's really still Wednesday. This morning began with me driving my parents to the airport so they could go home to Cincinnati. I was still really tired, so when I got home, I took a nap. I woke up in a bit of a mood. But I got up and started my day, chatting with a couple friends, and realizing I was ready to post my last blog entry. I guess I was more ready than I thought, because it wasn't until about 30 minutes ago, after it was already the 31st, that "today" had been the 30th. This is the first time in over a year that I didn't wake up on the 30th of the month, extremely aware of the date. The 30th was my anniversary date. Yeah, I'm still sad. Yeah, I still have a long ways to go. But I cannot begin to explain what a huge deal it is that it didn't even occur to me that it was the 30th. Or rather, that the date held any significance. Not even a week ago when I made my parents' flight reservations for the 30th. It just didn't even enter my mind until it was already over. And then when it did, I was more surprised that I hadn't realized it than anything else.
I had already decided that I was going to adopt a phrase for this next year. Given all that happened in 2015, and all the other traumas in my life, I had decided the best phrase I could possibly adopt, was "let it go." After all, that's why I moved all the way to Denver. That's why I'm starting a totally new career and a totally new life. No, I didn't choose it because of the song from Frozen, not that it would be any less awesome if I had. But if I want to move on, if I want to have a shot at being actually happy, and being open to the things to come, I have to let go of the past. Clearly, I'm already further down that road than I thought. And, to risk stating the obvious, that's a good thing.
Obviously, it's not as easy as just letting it go. It's a process. And we can't change the past. And we can't entirely remove scars. I can't just let go and get rid of my PTSD. But while I may not be able to completely undo it- I can quit hanging onto it for dear life. It takes work. It takes some doing. It takes some time. But I do have a lot of power. I can move forward. I may be scarred and battered, but I don't have to be a slave to my past.
Along with my many medical quirks, one is that my body creates more scar tissue than the vast majority of human beings. Sometimes that's an actual problem, but usually, it just means that my scars are much more noticeable than they otherwise would be. I've had a lot of surgeries. My doctors have always suggested I use various creams to reduce the size and appearance of my scars. But I always refused. Not because I want to draw attention to my scars. Not because I want people to see them and feel sorry for me. Not because I don't care. To be honest, some of my scars- especially the ones on my shoulder- aren't very attractive. But I want them to serve as reminders. When I look in the mirror, or I look at my hand, or my knees, I see my scars. They're not reminders of all the things wrong with me. They're reminders of everything I've overcome. All of these scars are reminders of the fact that I was in severe physical pain. They're reminders of the months I spent in therapy recovering. They're reminders that I was strong enough to seek and accept help to get better. And most of all, they remind me of the fact that what was broken beyond use is now again useful. Maybe (read definitely) not perfect, but useful. Improved. Better. If I just had more struggles than most physically, I probably wouldn't have been so set on keeping the scars. But because I've had more emotional traumas and struggles than physical, I decided to keep them as visible reminders of everything I've had to overcome.
The key to all of this is remembering that my scars are not symbols of my weakness to hold me back, or to cling to. I shouldn't used them as excuses to not use my hand or my shoulder, or my knees. They're reminders of my strength. They're reminders that I let go of my difficulties there in order to move on and live a new, and healthier life. They're reminders of my strength. And let me tell you, letting go requires a hell of a lot of strength.
I had already decided that I was going to adopt a phrase for this next year. Given all that happened in 2015, and all the other traumas in my life, I had decided the best phrase I could possibly adopt, was "let it go." After all, that's why I moved all the way to Denver. That's why I'm starting a totally new career and a totally new life. No, I didn't choose it because of the song from Frozen, not that it would be any less awesome if I had. But if I want to move on, if I want to have a shot at being actually happy, and being open to the things to come, I have to let go of the past. Clearly, I'm already further down that road than I thought. And, to risk stating the obvious, that's a good thing.
Obviously, it's not as easy as just letting it go. It's a process. And we can't change the past. And we can't entirely remove scars. I can't just let go and get rid of my PTSD. But while I may not be able to completely undo it- I can quit hanging onto it for dear life. It takes work. It takes some doing. It takes some time. But I do have a lot of power. I can move forward. I may be scarred and battered, but I don't have to be a slave to my past.
Along with my many medical quirks, one is that my body creates more scar tissue than the vast majority of human beings. Sometimes that's an actual problem, but usually, it just means that my scars are much more noticeable than they otherwise would be. I've had a lot of surgeries. My doctors have always suggested I use various creams to reduce the size and appearance of my scars. But I always refused. Not because I want to draw attention to my scars. Not because I want people to see them and feel sorry for me. Not because I don't care. To be honest, some of my scars- especially the ones on my shoulder- aren't very attractive. But I want them to serve as reminders. When I look in the mirror, or I look at my hand, or my knees, I see my scars. They're not reminders of all the things wrong with me. They're reminders of everything I've overcome. All of these scars are reminders of the fact that I was in severe physical pain. They're reminders of the months I spent in therapy recovering. They're reminders that I was strong enough to seek and accept help to get better. And most of all, they remind me of the fact that what was broken beyond use is now again useful. Maybe (read definitely) not perfect, but useful. Improved. Better. If I just had more struggles than most physically, I probably wouldn't have been so set on keeping the scars. But because I've had more emotional traumas and struggles than physical, I decided to keep them as visible reminders of everything I've had to overcome.
The key to all of this is remembering that my scars are not symbols of my weakness to hold me back, or to cling to. I shouldn't used them as excuses to not use my hand or my shoulder, or my knees. They're reminders of my strength. They're reminders that I let go of my difficulties there in order to move on and live a new, and healthier life. They're reminders of my strength. And let me tell you, letting go requires a hell of a lot of strength.
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