An excerpt of the Scars...
Here I am.
Sitting. Watchful, looking at a teenage boy sleeping. He's been sedated. Had a seizure. Self harms.
A lot of people have judged him. Hated him. Disowned him.
I first met him last week. As a part of my job. I needed to climb on top of the hospital bed and hold him down using all of my body weight so he wouldn’t cause more harm to himself.
He hated me so much in that moment. He spat rage at me and threatened me, with all sorts of horrible things. I knew it was just noise. Just pain.
I told him that everything I was going to do next would be based on his actions, his choice.
I told him that even though he didn’t think he could have any control over his life, he did. He could choose what would happen next. He did have the ability to manage his body in that moment in time.
Still pressing on him. I finally felt his body soften and relax under my hands. I let go. I trusted.
He began to talk.
He told me he had been in the hospital for a week. Paralyzed on the right side of his body. His mother hadn’t come.
Same time last year I was at the hospital for two weeks for surgery. I had no contact with my four kids. It hurt. My ex husband made sure I did not hear from them. I remembered all the sadness I felt his pain in that moment and it connected us…
The boy and I...
Pasig City, Philippines is a different world to Australia. I moved here in 2003 and studied accounting although I found my way into policing. I always wanted to protect people, help them get out of the pain that I had grown up with and lived with – so much abuse and violence – at the hands of my Father, at the hands of my husband. I had married so young…
I clearly remember driving along the M1 where I saw a recruiting billboard and I said to myself, “I wonder if it is really possible for me to be a police officer in this country?” Something in me knew, that it was where I needed to go next...
And how they have made me...
Sometimes I wonder if had I stayed with my ex-husband longer, or if I had put up with more humiliation, maybe my kids would still be with me. I should never have let him take the children and trusted that he would return them. But, it happened. I can’t change the past.
I am here now. I am helping people. I am being as fiercely loving as I can be. I am professional in my work but I have kept my heart. I understand people’s pain.
I have a finely tuned ability to read situations and maybe without having grown up with trauma and violence I wouldn’t be able to read that so well as I do. I have turned the pain I have been scarred with into a gift to help others. Nothing can kill my smile. Nothing can dull the light in my heart or stop me from wanting to make the world a better place. Nothing can take away my hope.
My scars have made me more sure. Sure that I will help other women be courageous. Help them free themselves from bullies. Help them not be held down by culture, but find their own spirit, their own loving spirit.
I have scars. Visible scars. Invisible scars that only people I love can see.
I still have scars invisible to my own self, scars deep in my heart and mind.
Scars that have made be tremble, numb.
Some of my scars have made me the happiest I have been as they have opened my heart to seeing the vulnerable parts in others. The scars I have on my body that show that I have brought four children into the world, I hold with love.
My scars make me love my past and look forward to a future. I have scars that have healed and scars that have not. Although I have been hurt by men I see the love in them and have many kind and loving male friends in my life that have healed my fear and distance from them. Finally, that scar is healed.
I know this one thing most of all. My scars can help other people’s scars heal.
An excerpt from Made Beautiful By Scars Book 2
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Copyright Made Beautiful by Scars 2016
Made Beautiful By Scars...