scars remind us where we've been...

in the movie forrest gump, there's a quote in there that goes like this:

forrest: momma always says there's an awful lot you could tell about a person by their shoes. where they're going. where they've been. i've worn lots of shoes. i bet if I think about it real hard i could remember my first pair of shoes.

scars are harder to read than shoes. with shoes, you can tell a hooker from a business woman. a librarian from a track runner. a soccer player from an artist. you can label people from their shoes. but strip them down, and we are all the same.

i get along with most people i meet. but there are some who don't like me. i don't know why. i don't understand why. and it bugs me to death if someone doesn't like me. i think i'm the nicest person in the world. i would do anything for anyone if i thought it would make that person smile. a lot of people perceive my kindness for weakness. people underestimate me constantly.

someone told me the other day that they thought i was a snob because of how i acted when i first met them like 9 years ago. i use to be extremely shy in first meetings. i'd try to act nonchalant, play with my hair, look anywhere but at the person i'm meeting. seeing me now, no one would imagine that i was shy in any setting. now, i walk right up and introduce myself. i do silly things and talk about random shit.

i wasn't just shy. i had scars. scars that berated me with "you shouldn't be here" and "you don't belong here this is wrong" and "all men want is one thing" and "this is an abomination" and countless other no-no's that were instilled in me growing up. scars that made me afraid to speak out or speak up or to be myself. scars that riddled me with so little self esteem that i was terrified to be ignored, laughed at, or thought as odd. the funny thing is, i actually think my oddity now is a trademark.

with scars, you can't have preconceived notions. you can't have assumptions. you have to jump in and put away your pride and you have to get to know that person so that maybe you can understand them, where they are coming from, where they've been, and where they are going.

so the next time you see someone and they rub you the wrong way, or you think wow, that's kinda...hmmm...they're weird i don't think i like them,

put away the snobbery. put away the ridicule you feel. take a closer look. and retrace your steps, take their hand and say, hello. everyone has something going on. you never know who just lost a sibling, parent, lover, or child. you can't tell loss or heartbreak or disappointment by shoes.

but by scars you can find out a story. just a few of my stories:

scar #1:

where: knee

story: i was teaching my little brother how to ride a bike. we lived in a 3 bedroom section 8 apartment home at the top of a hill in the projects in fairfax, alabama. he ran into me as i let go of the bike because he got scared and turned the wheel. the spoke was tattered and jagged and ripped my knee open.

i do not have any communication with my brother any more. the things that occurred over this past summer sealed that up and i put it on the shelf to maybe open at a much later date. but i still have this story. and this story tells the tale of a once very close brother and sister.

scar #2:

where: chin

story: i was living in the above mentioned projects and i wanted a bike REALLY bad. my brother had just learned to ride my old one and my parents were poor so that meant i had to do without. (normal) so i wanted to ride my friend's brother's bike. my dad said no, because he didn't have the money to replace it if i broke it and also, this friend's brother was a teenager and his bike had no brakes. hahaha. see where this is going? so i rode it anyway and thought i was hot stuff popping wheelies over the speed mountains until i hit this one going too fast and it threw me off the bike.

i flew across the speed mountain and landed on my stomach on some old woman's driveway. and i remember thinking wow, that was close! and then the next thing i knew my head was smashed into the concrete, chin down and i busted my chin open. the bike had flown into the air and came down right on my head.

my mother said i was being dramatic and that i could walk home when the old lady called her to come get me. she said i was a drama queen and it was just a scratch and she didn't want to miss her "General Hospital." i ended up getting 72 stitches. and i still have the scar. it taught me: never get overly confident &  don't trust my mother to love anything or anyone except herself.

scar #3
where: can't see it.
story: when i was 6 years old, i was awakened by my sister who was 13. she told me that she loved me and gave me her crimping iron (i'd been gawking at it since she bought it) and that if she could take me with her, she would. i did not see her again until i was 16. and then not again until i was 21. @ the age of 22, i found out some stuff that my mother had been lying about and i called my sister up and talked to her. now, my sister and i are pretty close. it has taken 6 long agonizing years of tearing away that scar tissue to repair 15 years worth of damage to our sister-relationship. but those 6 years have been worth it.

scar #4
where: lower back & sides
story: i have riddles of scars on my lower back and sides from my ex husband. he got mad enough to where he actually threw me through a double window-paned sliding glass door. i went through it. shattered both panes. flipped over the couch on the balconey. this was the incident that sent myself & lady o into the er. i was pregnant with lady n. and i never went back.

soooo idk where or why this post came out of me today. but maybe another day, i'll share some more scars. and when i do, you'll have some insights into ms. diva. that may or may not change your thoughts about me.

ps: i have decided to change my pattern with men. the next one will not be a woman beating fool. LOL