I’ve been on an emotionally difficult journey with my body over the past 2+ years so much so that there have been moments where I have found it hard to look at my reflection in the mirror. I struggled to see how my body could be beautifully, flawed, I struggled accept how much my body has changed.
On recent reflections I realise how much we can hide what is going on for us, from the outside world. We go through difficulties and, at times, don’t know how to heal ourselves so the easy thing to do is hide, hoping that no one will see our scars. We present ourselves to the outside world as whole, when inside we may be crying, sometimes falling apart, hoping that no-one will notice our pain. It dawned on me the similarities we face as childless women on our journeys to finding acceptance. It can be so easy for us to hide, hoping that no-one will ask us if we have children so we can avoid those oh so awkward questions, hoping that we won’t be judged or criticized if we give them the answer they were not expecting to hear.
Then I realised that my scars tell a story, they show what I have been through, they show that I have survived. Sometimes our scars are visible, sometimes hidden but they are there to remind us that we are ok, that we are whole and that we are beautiful. They reminded us that we have lived, that we have a story to tell, they remind us that we have survived and that we are stronger and richer because of the experience.
Click here for the poem I wrote to honour this part of my journey
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