Anything less than the truth is shit...

    There is a twelve inch scar down my midsection.  The surface has healed but beneath layers of tissue are still coming together.  Certain movements cause me to wince and it’s definitely a sensitive area to touch.  My life has been changed by this massive cut.  This part of my body will never be the same inside or out.

    When I was a child someone told me I was stupid and useless.  An adult I knew and love told me I was stupid and useless.  It caused me great pains throughout my life.  That cut never healed.  I don’t know that it ever will.  The anger and confusion that I felt then is part of who I am now and always will be…good or bad.

    When I was a teenager my grandmother told me I was beautiful and intelligent and that I could be anything I wanted to be.  Different words…empowering and true but still caused anger and confusion.  I did not know who I was supposed to be.  I did not know if her words were the truth.  I was already told something different.

    When I was thirty-five the same person that told me I was stupid and useless as a child told me I was talented.  I was stunned and moved and annoyed.  Here I am a grown woman and the words I was looking for as a child you give to me now.  A true compliment…not backhanded or accompanied by snide comments or remarks.  The little girl that waited to hear those words was annoyed.  Her thirty-five year old counterpart was amazed and astonished.  What use are these words to me now?

   The laceration that was once covered is now exposed and inflamed.  There is no difference between the wound on my body and the one on my soul.  I wince…I ache…I will never be the person I was before I endured it.  My damages only make me more interesting…my flaws more beautiful.  That’s what I keep telling myself anyway.  This truth is mine and it’s colored me and stripped me and rebuilt me.   Anything less than the truth is shit.