The Fault in Our Scars

We are all wounded animals, grazing this green and blue planet, searching for something or someone outside our broken hearts to tell us what it’s all for.

As we move through our day, we forget that the pain behind the eyes of our brothers and sisters is also our pain.  We allow ourselves to wound others as we have been injured because we don’t know better.

We suffer not from lack but from ignorance and misunderstanding.  We fail to practice what we preach and judge those who cannot live up to our unrealistic expectations. Yet when the hand of judgment points our way,  we do not wish to be held accountable for our actions.

It’s easy to lie, steal, and hurt. The lower vibrational energies of such actions come with instant rewards for the untrained mind.

But they are fleeting. While we may not realize it, the pain we inflict on others is the pain we inflict on ourselves. And time and time again, we fail to understand this.


Or is it the fault in our scars? The wounds we struggle to heal keep us repeating the same negative patterns that broke us in the first place.

If you look around, and I mean really take a look, everyone is walking around with scars. Some we can physically see, others we cannot, but they affect us nonetheless.

And yet, rather than turn our pain into power, we succumb to it. We allow it to swallow us whole, letting it define who we are and why we are here—making us feel as though there is nothing more to life than our pain.

And so, instead of meeting each other with compassion, we unleash that pain in the form of rage upon others and ourselves.  Round and round we go in this never-ending cycle of negativity.

Our scars are not meant to be worn like scarlet letters. They are chapters of our life that we must write down but move on from.

Holding on to the past keeps us trapped in a negative cycle that brings us more pain.


I have suffered from this most of my life, walking around with a deep-rooted sadness I often could not release and so internalized. While, like many, my anger turned inward, as an unrelenting attack on myself, I understood that others suffered the same. Many expressing their anger outward.

Running from my wounds was what led me to multiple panic attacks, a loss of confidence, and a shame spiral that seemed never-ending. I began to realize that I was continuously attracting more of that pain, over and over, in a pattern that seemed never to end until my body was so riddled with anxiety I  had no choice but to face it.

I had to “sit in my shit,” so to speak,  to reconcile my pain and the pain I’d caused others.

And it was through this dark night of the soul that I found the answer was in my scars.


I had wounds that tore me to shreds, sometimes so severely I feared I would never be whole again. And yet I had a scar.

After much introspection, I realized that my scars were not ugly reminders of the horrors of the past but rather a sign of strength. Because if I could get through that, I could get through anything.

The scars told the story of a warrior who did not succumb to their wounds. One who lived to fight another day, even if the fight was on the inside. And one who had a body willing to fight for it and heal what was broken, even if it could never be the same.

It’s OK to be broken. We will survive it. We will heal it, and if we look deeply, we will find the strength to help others.

Every move we make is met first by choice. Be the one who reminds themselves that ‘other people feel this too’, and rather than destroy them, sets out to heal them.

Keep Seeking,







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