You know who you are just as well as I do. You’ve been staring. You’ve seen the scars that tattoo my arms. You’ve had questions, but do not know what to say. You want to reach out to be sure I’m okay, but you’re unsure of how to approach me.
Here’s the reality though. You didn’t notice me when I was wearing long sleeves in the summer. You ignored the fact I never kept my arms on the table. I know you didn’t notice because I’ve been watching you, too. I don’t blame you for not seeing me. It’s so easy to hide in today’s society. I hid because I wasn’t ready to talk about anything. I hid because I was ashamed of what I was doing to my body. I was ashamed of the darkness that led me to the point that I became addicted to cutting myself.
Now, you see. You see me. You see my scars. You see my scars because I have decided that I am no longer ashamed. I am no longer going to hide the scars. I am free from that addiction. I am free because I have a risen Savior who bears scars as well. His scars are only identifiable to him. He bled so I don’t have to. He bled so I can be healed. All I have to do is ask.
I beg you, please stop staring. Tell me what you’re thinking. My scars tell a horrible story, but they glorify my Savior.