Skip to main content

:: Wounds and Such

This post is about scars.

Today, at some point, I was thinking about scars.

Everyone has them.

One scar is from aimlessly tumbling down a ditch in childhood.

Another one on my knee was acquired from falling on ice.

My favourite knee scar is comprised of three parts- 1) the long remnants of a botched incision, 2) a hole in the kneecap and 3) two little "x" shaped things above aforementioned incision.

The story- at the age of fifteen, I was having the time of my life. My friends and I left school property to hang at a park. I ran and ran and laughed and laughed and rode the swing and jumped and soooooooared through the air and then landed, hard. Nothing about me has ever been the same since.

They reconstructed a ligament in my right knee. I like to think the scar signifies a sort of bravery- repeated needles, an epidural, a night in a lonely hospital bed, hallucinating by way of injected morphine doses. How badass.

There is a small scar on my eyelid that only *I* can notice, when I put eyeliner on. A reminder of firsts- first time in the ambulance, first and only time I seriously contemplated the idea that I might be blind.

I got it from my cat, who was apparently not in a good mood that day. Again, it happened when I was a teenager. With my eyelid hanging down on my face, I asked my best friend at the time via MSN to call the ambulance, as blood leaked into my eye and clouded my vision. It luckily only required a couple of stitches and I can still see, so that's the positive to the story. Here is a picture of the aftermath (obviously don't look if that kind of thing grosses you out):



Re-reading my own words, I feel pretty jaded and abashed at talking about my physical imperfections. Someone who has met with some sort of unfortunate accident will read this and be offended. Don't worry, I recognize how...irrelevant this all sounds.

BUT:
What kind of scars do you have? They don't have to be physical; they can be emotional ones too. The old saying always goes "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger". Embracing traumatic occurrences builds a compendium of experiences that will fortify you for life ahead- and also make great stories to tell people, unless they make you look stupid. Then you usually just keep it to yourself. =p

Love, Tasha

xoxo

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

2022

As a teenager, one of my biggest fears was an airborne disease that would wreak havoc on the world as we knew it.  Back then, SARS was a thing, and some other weird things that I can't remember happened that year that brought me to my naiive, self-absorbed and dysfunctional little knees one afternoon while watching CNN.  I was overwhelmed. I asked my mother why it felt like the entire world was collapsing. The drama. ...and now, look where we are. It's 2022, baby - literally any fucking thing goes. - T.

Arghity Argh.

BAH. I always, always do this. Plan to go to bed at 11p.m. and then not. Until 2. It's almost 2 now. Too much to think about. So much to dooo. I'm a communications major, so obviously, in my program, we talk about the many ways in which people communicate with each other. Lately I've been confronted by a lot of theoretical discussion about the internet, and how anyone can blog. We watched this vid where this guy describes a theory called "mass amateurisation". Well, without getting TOO far into it (less I go cross-eyed), this theory essentially says that literary merit will eventually go to shit with the fact that anyone can publish themselves on the internet. Which is kiiinda true, no? I am at an impasse- with myself! It's true that ANYONE can say they write because they have a blog. But then ANYONE can create a blog. What's the point? It's not like we're more important or something. And it's not like people read it, either. Well, except for m...

L i t tle T h ings.

I want to blog again. But I always seem to be stuck. Re-reading some of my old posts the other day made me realize that I always write about the same things. The worst part is that these things are things that I dislike about my life. Even more terrifying, as indicated by the timeline of my previous posts, these things have been bothering me for a very long time.  So now, I want to tell my "voice" to grow up. The only crappy relationship I would like to address now for the first (and hopefully last) time is the one I have with myself. What I needed previously and still need to find for real, is my self-respect. My esteem. My ability to just "be".  And these are my new principles for blogging. No angst-fuelled rambles. Just life, as it is from day-to-day. It's time to take control, and indulge in all experiences, whether they be big or small   (someone brings you kiwiis in an attempt to make your day brighter. Definitely worked). If only I could bottle such a man...