DEFINITION: verb (used without object), scarred, scar·ring. -to form a scar in healing.
So by definition a scar is the mark of a wound that has healed.
I have lots of scars. I don’t mean the bits of grit I still have embedded in my leg from crashing my bike as a kid and having my mum use tweezers to get ‘most’ of it out to save a trip to the doctors. I mean emotional scars, some are still not fully healed.
A lot of my scars are from my own behaviour and actions.
I caused myself lots of pain and wounds as a compulsive gambler, before I found recovery. Consistently making the wrong choices over and over again. By wrong I mean they weren’t wise decisions, I mean who would give their wage to sir William of Hill every pay day, but I also mean morally wrong.
My daily mind set and behaviour from my early teens up mid twenties never permitted me to make mistakes and heal afterwards. I was in a constant turmoil of wanting to be a good person and do the right things and quite frankly doing the opposite a lot of the time.
It seems a bit futile holding the door open for an elderly lady and later in the day lying to your house mates about why you haven’t paid the rent for the last 5 months.
Feeling like you don’t do the right things and aren’t a good person leaves scars.
I let a lot of people down and that scarred me.
Thankfully, through weathering the storm and battling daily to make changes to my life, those scars have started to heal. A lot of them are nearly there and just need a bit of bio oil.
What i never apreciated in the mist of it all was the scars I would inflict on others. Let’s face it! Spending all day everyday feeling like I’m not good enough, very rarely doing the right thing with a moral compass equivalent to Gollum, when would I have the time or the mental capacity to consider how my actions were effecting others.
But they did! Even sometimes when I thought I was doing the best for others.
The most poignant example would be when I decided, in that time, that my wife and children would be better without me. At the time, it was logical. I keep letting them down. I keep f*cking up. I don’t want to let them down anymore.
Following the event, all the focus was on me and getting better.
What my wife had to experience was far worse. She had a 3 week old baby and an 18month old with her whilst the police are out searching for me. She was helpless in the thought she might loose her husband, dad to her children and best friend. That shit stays with you.
Every time I’m ten minutes late. Every time I don’t answer my phone or respond to a text. I think she has that same sinking feeling and it it takes her right back to that day.
All I can say is without her my wounds would not of scarred and I wouldn’t be able to look back on them with pride because of the journey it has taken me on.
I think we are all scarred in one way or another. Makes a valid case for us to be a bit more patient, a bit more understanding and as kind as we can be.