I am my scars

I Am My Scars

I used to hate my scars. I found them embarrassing for several reasons. Mainly, because they are blemishes on my skin, because they draw attention to specific parts of my body, because they lead to questions about what happened, and because they force me to admit that I am imperfect in appearance and in action. 

Today I looked at my thigh. I saw the wrinkled skin that looks like a fat slug. I remembered all the ways I used to try to hide it. And I realized that now I embrace my scars. They are like tattoos; permanent reminders and celebrations of where I’ve been and what has made me who I am. My scars are my life story told in flesh. 

I am my scars. 

I am the cartwheels on a shard of broken class in Newfoundland. The sharp knife in the dish water. The shattering glass of the screen door. The scissors I used to cut leather. The jagged metal on the hearth when I painted my Mother’s walls. I am the small lines on my elbows and knees from playing in the woods. I am clam shell cuts and fish hook pokes. I am calluses from crocheting, knitting, whittling and woodworking, bare feet summer hikes, Birkenstocks, and flip flops. I am my finger tips on my first steel string guitar. I am sharp pebbles in red jelly-shoes. 

I am I-don’t-know-what-happened, and where-did-that-come-from. I am falling off bikes, slipping in ballet slippers, leaping before looking, tree climbing, and unprepared balancing acts. I am chickenpox but everyone else has it too so we have to go to school anyway. I am surgery and too many IVs. 

I am tears and snot and pain. I am joy and laughter til my belly hurts. I am adventures and risks. I am warning tales and funny stories. 

This body has carried me and allowed me to do, to play, to create, to try, to feel pleasure, to love. This body is marked by moments in life that shaped me. It tells the stories I’ve tried to hide, the stories of things I’ve forgotten, and the stories shared over endless cups of tea. 

This body has been tortured by me and yet it is still here. Still waiting to be loved. Still waiting to be taken care of. Still willing to let me keep trying. To keep living. 

This body is how I came to be, where I have been, who I am now, and where I am going. This body is my home. This skin is my story. These scars are me. Unapologetic, imperfect, blemished, me. 

Notice

MINDFULLY MENDING MARCH SUGGESTION: make an effort to notice something and ask about it. 

Mindfully Mending March is winding down. I have 2 days left of saying "I'm in my 30s" and then I hit the big 4-0. 

I've been thinking about how little we know about some people. And how awkward it is for us to ask out of fear of it not being socially acceptable. 

Do I want to be asked why I'm walking with a cane? Not particularly. Do I want to be asked why I wear a tiny silver spoon on a chain around my neck, absolutely! 

Today, take a moment to notice something you have gotten so used to seeing that you don't really see it anymore. And ask a question about it. A friendly question. 

Be kind,

To yourself too, 

xo

*All images are property of Fox Tales Art

**All images are available for sale with profits going to www.sheenasplace.org 

Email foxtaleskira@gmail.com for inquiries and browse some options at 

www.etsy.com/ca/shop/FoxTalesByKira 

(Purchasing directly by email, even if the piece is on etsy, saves both of us money and can involve a negotiation in size and in price)

A strawberry day

MINDFULLY MENDING MARCH SUGGESTION: savour the strawberry moments. 

Geneen Roth wrote a retelling of a Buddhist story. I guess I am writing a retelling of a retelling. 

Short version: a woman who is go go go, like our society is, one day is chased over the side of a cliff by hungry tigers only to discover there are hungry tigers at the bottom of the cliff too. Basically, she's going to get eaten by tigers regardless of what she does next. She sees a strawberry and decides to eat it and savour it. The moral being that there will always be hungry tigers above you and hungry tigers below you, so stop to savour the strawberries. 

That story really stuck with me. We have absolutely no control over the hungry tigers in our life. We just don't. And we can make choices that lead to strawberry moments. We can choose to hide away from the world filled with tigers, or we can seek out the strawberries and make the choice to enjoy them. 

A lack of control scares the crap out of me. So looking for the strawberries is really important. 

What are your strawberry moments? Who are your strawberry people? How can you cultivate your own strawberries? 

Be kind,

To yourself too

xo

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For the full version of the Geneen Roth story, see https://books.google.ca/books?id=rXiZAAAAQBAJ&pg=PA24&lpg=PA24&dq=geneen+roth+strawberry+story&source=bl&ots=_SlZCAvBS3&sig=OMB4uAwD66DAY2Z1_g9V73F2S6M&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwiFifrHxezSAhUqw4MKHTqVBaQQ6AEIIzAD#v=onepage&q=geneen%20roth%20strawberry%20story&f=false 

*All images are property of Fox Tales Art

**All images are available for sale with profits going to www.sheenasplace.org 

Email foxtaleskira@gmail.com for inquiries and browse some options at 

www.etsy.com/ca/shop/FoxTalesByKira 

(Purchasing directly by email, even if the piece is on etsy, saves both of us money and can involve a negotiation in size and in price)

Cry

MINDFULLY MENDING MARCH SUGGESTION: cry because it's better to get it out. 

*All images are property of Fox Tales Art

**All images are available for sale with profits going to www.sheenasplace.org 

Email foxtaleskira@gmail.com for inquiries and browse some options at 

www.etsy.com/ca/shop/FoxTalesByKira 

(Purchasing directly by email, even if the piece is on etsy, saves both of us money and can involve a negotiation in size and in price)

being cared for

MINDFULLY MENDING MARCH SUGGESTION: allow self care to include being cared for. 

There is a major focus on self-care these days. I think that's wonderful. 

I want to suggest that self-care can include seeking support from someone else. Self-care means taking care of yourself. It doesn't mean being the only one who can. 

Be kind,

To yourself too

xo

*All images are property of Fox Tales Art

**All images are available for sale with profits going to www.sheenasplace.org 

Email foxtaleskira@gmail.com for inquiries and browse some options at 

www.etsy.com/ca/shop/FoxTalesByKira 

(Purchasing directly by email, even if the piece is on etsy, saves both of us money and can involve a negotiation in size and in price)

including your own self

MINDFULLY MENDING MARCH SUGGESTION:  including your own self 

We all have had times in our lives when we were left out or ostracized. As children, it was one of the worst parts of our lives. Being abandoned by friends, or ignored by peers, or gossiped about, or mistreated ... these things hurt us to our cores. 

And then we grow up and we are in our 20s and it happens again and hurts just as much. 

And at 40, we think our peers must have matured as well. And when they don't and we are intentionally left out, ignored, ostracized, it hurts. Sometimes it feels heart wrenching. 

I've been wondering lately if the hurt we feel has more to do with our childhood experiences of social bullying than our actual feelings now as adults. 

So I've decided that it doesn't actually matter what someone else thinks of me. If someone decides not to be my friend, then it's their loss. I don't have time to put effort into a one-sided friendship. In invest my time in the people I love. 

Instead of feeling left out, I involve myself in something else. Even if it's just with myself. No one can complete me. I am complete with myself, as I am. 

I challenge you to worry less about what people you don't care about think of you, and more about what you think of yourself.  

Be kind,

To yourself too

xo

*All images are property of Fox Tales Art

**All images are available for sale with profits going to www.sheenasplace.org 

Email foxtaleskira@gmail.com for inquiries and browse some options at 

www.etsy.com/ca/shop/FoxTalesByKira 

(Purchasing directly by email, even if the piece is on etsy, saves both of us money and can involve a negotiation in size and in price)

Find your feather stick

MINDFULLY MENDING MARCH SUGGESTION: Find your feather stick. 

Whenever I've had rescue animals, they have been older animals needing new homes. Last spring was the first time our rescue animal was just a baby. She was a 7 week old kitten who was so tiny that she slept inside our shirts. We named her Lily. 

In her first week at home, one of us bought a couple of dollar store cat toys. I don't even know which one of us it was. One of the toys was a plastic stick with a couple of feathers on the end of it. 

Feather stick. 

That stupid stick became the most important thing in that kitten's life. She dragged it everywhere with her. You have to remember that at that point she was tiny. And she dragged a long plastic stick up and down 3 flights of stairs multiple times a day. She also jumped up onto high surfaces with feather stick. Of course I'm a jerk and started playing mind games with her by hiding the stick (hiding it somewhere obvious) and waiting for her to find it. When that game got too easy I started to use it to play fetch. 

At some point, Lily decided my having access was far too dangerous for her comfort object. So she started hiding it from ME! 

I started finding feather stick in strange places like under the carpet, under the blankets in my bed, in the bathtub ... One day she hid it so well that I couldn't find it anywhere. 

We replaced feather stick with a new one with completely different coloured feathers. I wasn't sure she would fall in love with the fraudulent toy, but she treats the new one with almost as much love and affection as the first. No matter where I put that thing, she inevitably brings it into the bathroom and I step on it in the dark. 

Lily and feather stick reminded me of research I once did on adults and comfort objects. 

Small children are given or claim objects that bring them comfort, and provide a sense of safety, of soothing, of calm. Then they start school and it becomes socially inappropriate to carry around your comfort item. Why? At what age do you suddenly not need comfort or soothing? Do you turn 5 and now you don't need that ripped piece of cloth from your grandmother's pillowcase that you've slept with for 3 years? You turn 17 and that plastic lizard you've carried in your pocket your whole life suddenly has no meaning and you can't have it any more? 

There are many children who give up their item by choice and no longer need it. That's also okay. 

From my research, these items are called "transitional objects" and are a healthy part of development as a child transitions from dependence to independence. Studies show that children grow out of the need for this item as they learn "other ways" to cope with stress. Other studies show that many people keep their transitional objects into adulthood. 

"The use of transition objects continues through our lives as we imbue objects with meaning and memories that are associated with other ideas, places and people. Photographs, mementos and other memorabilia are used to remember good times and friends. Transition objects may also translate as fetish objects." - Winnicott, D. (1953). Transitional objects and transitional phenomena, International Journal of Psychoanalysis, 34:89-97

I would like to meet one adult who is so self actualized that they never, ever have a need to feel comforted and soothed. 

"As adults, there are other types of objects that serve a similar purpose as transitional object used by children. It is common for adults to keep prized possessions owned by their parents when they were growing up. Dad may have passed away many years ago but wearing his watch is a comforting reminder of that relationship. [...] (they) are a wonderful way to reduce stress. That photograph of mom, jacket of dad’s, china-set you inherited, and other such things, are serve the purpose of reminding us of the happy parts of our childhood and helps comfort us when we are feeling stressed, depressed or very anxious. Some people call these “lucky charms.” Whatever they are called it’s good to have them." - Allan N. Schwartz, PhD, April 23, 2012

I don't disagree. While packing up our house I threw away many items imbued with memories but I just couldn't part with a stupid notebook full of stamps that I collected from mail from my childhood penpals ... and at the same time ... 

I WANT TO TELL YOU TO RECLAIM YOUR THING!!!!! 

Why can't we keep using the item we used in childhood? Who says there are particular objects for children and others for adults? 

And if you can't get back what you had as a child, find something similar. Or something new. And if you never had a comfort object, go find one! 

What would feel soothing to you? Which senses do you want to call upon when you need to be comforted or soothed? A scent? A texture? A temperature? What feels calming? Is there something that reminds you of someone or some time that was so good that just looking at it makes you smile? Does that thing have to live in a box? Or is it a photo you can put in your wallet? 

I have a scarf. More like a shawl in size really. It is beautiful. It was also given to me by someone special to acknowledge something I accomplished. So the scarf represents care, and strength, and love, and a reminder that I can actually do the hard things. In the beginning, I felt embarrassed about carrying it around with me all the time. I was even more embarrassed that I started sleeping with it. I tried to find ways to make it casual like, oh I'm really cold in this 28 degree direct sunlight, I'll just stick this giant scarf in my bag on the way to the beach in case I get too cold ... or ... oh I always carry this with me in case I get cold ... I have fibromyalgia, hypothyroidism, and an endocrine disorder; I don't get cold. 

Now I carry it around like a badge of honour. Screw what other people think. I'm turning 40 in 2 weeks and I have a blankie! I have it with me 24 hours a day (except while it's being washed which I do myself so that I know exactly how long it will be out of commission). 

I know I'm not the only adult with a comfort item. I finally decided, why does it matter what anyone else thinks about what makes me feel good? I have an anxiety disorder and when I get overwhelmed, the scarf reminds me that I'll be okay. 

So if you already have your item, awesome. Feel good about having it. You don't have to share it with the world. But allow yourself the gentleness and compassion that you would show a 2 year old who needs her favourite stuffed monkey to be able to fall asleep. 

And if you don't have anything, I challenge you to go find your feather stick! 

Be kind,

To yourself too,

xo

ps .... we also have the sweetest dog in the entire world who happens to not like any toys or special blankets or anything in particular. She is just a big furry blob of love. 

*All images are property of Fox Tales Art

**All images are available for sale with profits going to www.sheenasplace.org 

Email foxtaleskira@gmail.com for inquiries and browse some options at 

www.etsy.com/ca/shop/FoxTalesByKira 

(Purchasing directly by email, even if the piece is on etsy, saves both of us money and can involve a negotiation in size and in price)

Mending

MINDFULLY MENDING MARCH SUGGESTION: mend something small today. 

To mend is to repair something that is broken, or damaged. It can be a picture frame, a tear in a pair of jeans, a broken mug. It can also be a relationship, an argument, a friendship, or the reparations made after harsh words. 

To mend is not always the same as fixing. 

If you think about a broken mug that has been put back together with glue, you can still see the cracks. The mug works fine, and maybe the outside pieces fit together so well that you don't see the seams. And you know you fixed it. And sometimes the cracks and chips are obvious. And you use it anyway because it's your favourite mug. 

Mending yourself is like that. You can't expect to go back to an original state. And you can still heal. You can still go forward. 

Some people have scars on their bodies. And some people have metaphorical scars inside. Either way, wear your scars with pride. They are the map of your life. 

Be kind,

To yourself too

xo

*All images are property of Fox Tales Art

**All images are available for sale with profits going to www.sheenasplace.org 

Email foxtaleskira@gmail.com for inquiries and browse some options at 

www.etsy.com/ca/shop/FoxTalesByKira 

(Purchasing directly by email, even if the piece is on etsy, saves both of us money and can involve a negotiation in size and in price)

Your inner critic; the jerk

I think that friendship is the most important thing in the world. A healthy friendship involves honesty, kindness, and compassion. It involves being fully invested in non-judgement, empathy, and a lack of criticism. 

MINDFULLY MENDING MARCH SUGGESTION: talk to yourself the way you would talk to your favourite friends. 

Everyone has an inner critic. A voice inside your head that tells you all the things that you have done or will do wrong. That voice that says negative things. 

That voice is a jerk. 

Before we start to question and challenge that voice, it is useful to understand where it came from. 

"We can start by understanding one major concept: we are, in many ways, ruled by our past. From the moment we’re born, we absorb the world around us. The early attitudes, beliefs and behaviors we were exposed to can become an inner dialogue, affecting how we see ourselves and others. For example, the positive behavior and qualities our parentsor early caretakers had helped us form a positive sense of self as well as many of our values. If we felt love, acceptance or compassion directed toward us, this nurtured our real self and the positive feelings we have about who we are in the world. However, the critical attitudes and negative experiences we withstood formed and fueled our anti-self. Early rejections and harmful ways of relating affect a child’s budding self-perception, not to mention their point of view toward other people and relationships in general. These impressions become the voices in our heads." - Lisa Firestone

When my inner critic says something mean or nasty, I ask myself, would I talk to my favourite friends that way? Would I speak critically, cruelly, judgementally, and with a lack of kindness and compassion? 

Imagine what a different place the world would be if we all treated each other AND OURSELVES like our favourite friends. 

Be kind, 

To yourself too

xo

*All images are property of Fox Tales Art

**All images are available for sale with profits going to www.sheenasplace.org 

Email foxtaleskira@gmail.com for inquiries and browse some options at 

www.etsy.com/ca/shop/FoxTalesByKira 

(Purchasing directly by email, even if the piece is on etsy, saves both of us money and can involve a negotiation in size and in price)

Listen for your inner child ...

MINDFULLY MENDING MARCH SUGGESTION: ask yourself what your inner child wants you to do. 

Do you ever have moments where you really want to do something and know you shouldn't and you do it anyway? Or moments when you DO NOT want to do something and do it anyway? Or you just can't decide which to do because there's this little voice inside of you saying it wants something or that it doesn't want something? 

I think that's our inner child telling us what it wants and needs ... telling us what WE want and need. 

Babies aren't born knowing much about needs. They learn if they cry something will happen; Some sort of substance will fill their belly, or the gooey discomfort in their nether regions will get cleaned, or the temperature will get adjusted ... they don't necessarily know what it IS that they need at the moment, they just know they need something to feel better. So they learn to make noise. 

They start to figure out what feels good and what doesn't. Sometimes, they just need the comfort of a cuddle. 

Then we grow these complicated wants and needs and we grow them in these bodies that shoot out in all directions and get too long and leggy and too heavy to be picked up and held by our caregivers. Don't even get me started on the whole part about having to provide your own food and actually prepare it, eat it, and clean up after. 

And we get to be all grown-up with our own busy and complicated lives, our complicated wants/needs/desires, maybe with our own tiny loud humans to care for, and our own inner child who is constantly reminding us of what IT needs. Except we are too busy with the part where it got complicated that we forgot the basics. 

The Basics 101:

• when you get hungry, eat 
• When you get tired, rest
• When you feel an emotion, express it
• When you need comfort, ASK FOR IT

When did life become so complicated that it takes a tiny little voice in your head to say "PAY ATTENTION TO ME NOW PLEASE!" ?

So how do you listen to your inner child? I've got at least 73 of them yelling at me at one point or another. There is so much emphasis on doing things. On getting things done. On being social. Staying home. Going out. Working. Working hard. Getting ahead. 

Getting ahead of what? Of yourself? Who are you in competition with? 

When I've got all these bossy thoughts rolling around and none of them feel right, I listen for the voice that is the quietest. Sometimes she isn't even speaking. Sometimes that silence says more about what I need than the voice of a bossy 7 year old with a new Barbie Horse ... I may have just dated myself, but did you ever own a Barbie Horse? Me either. Man did I ever want one. And the kids who had them? Let me tell you ... they were the bossiest 7 year olds I ever knew. 

If I can filter out the noise, then I can get past the wants. 

• Yes I want to go out drinking with friends 
• Yes I want to stay out late 
• Yes I want to be the life of the party 
• Yes I know I hate all my clothes but that means we can go buy new clothes!
• Yes I know we are on a budget and now I want to spend money on an outfit, AND going out, AND drinking. 
• Yes I know this work needs to get done so let's do it and then go out!

.... pause .... listen past all those wants ......  there's a voice there that isn't speaking. It's as if all the bossy kids filled with wants have sent her to the corner because all she has are needs. 

She's the tiny baby who has needs and learned how to make noise to get those needs met. But then all the wants took over and got louder and more complicated and that tiny baby grew bigger but got overshadowed by all the things. 

It's 2am the first night in our new place. I guess it's the first morning, technically. I can't find a comfortable position. I have worked far too hard in the last few days. My inner bosses have been telling me to go-go-go. They've been saying that it's only a few days, and we WANT to be packed on time. We WANT to get settled. We WANT to set up the bookshelves. We WANT to be unpacked now please. We can suck it up and live with the pain because I want the end results. 

It really and truly doesn't work that way. It's not the kind of pain you can push-through. It's not the kind of pain you can tell yourself is only temporary so just keep going. Fibromyalgia pain is wide-spread and relentless. And the more you push, the more it pushes back. Only it's like a REAL horse that kicks you a bunch of times and then sits on your back for a month. 

I've been listening to those bossy little 7 year olds with their Barbie Horses again. Because those little kids didn't learn to take care of their own needs. 

After laying in bed for hours, waking up repeatedly from one bad dream to the next ... I tried to listen ... those plastic horse-owning kids wanted chocolate chip cookies, and a glass of water, and a different pillow, and a different room, my old room. MY room with MY walls and MY ceiling. And my old stairs ("Old" as in where I lived when I woke up today). 

So I metaphorically gave all those kids their plastic horses and told them to go play. Then I listened for the voice that doesn't talk. What does SHE need. In this case, it was to move to the couch (which is now in the next room and not 3 floors down from my bedroom), curl up with my special scarf, and write a blog post in my new living room. I think a cup of something hot would have helped too, but I haven't found the box with the teapot, or tea, or hot chocolate, or mugs ... 

Figuring out what you need is a never ending battle between what you think you are supposed to do and what you know you can't do. 

Having fibromyalgia means KNOWING that a few days of this kind of non-stop physical, mental, and emotional labour are going to affect my body for weeks. But it also comes with these steaming hot piles of guilt and shame; guilt that CC is doing more than her share of the work, and shame that I live in a body that can't keep up. 

So here I am at 2am asking myself what my needs are, and guessing that if that quiet little girl without a plastic horse had a voice, she would probably tell me to take some deep breaths, hug my special scarf tighter, and get some rest. 

Be kind,

to yourself too

xo

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