I have very sensitive skin. Each and every time I have been cut (be it surgical, or slicing my finger open on a knife in the kitchen sink), I scar badly. I’m talking keloids – a simple cat scratch can look like a stab wound. Because of my bone disorder, I have had a lot of surgeries – and as a result, I have a lot of keloids. These keloids cover my legs and arms. They are thick, rubbery and angry looking. The surgical scars are long and noticeable.
I have a few from silly things too. There is one on the back of my ear from when a boy named Josh accidentally yanked my silver hoop earring out at a town dance. I have one on my hand from when my friend tried to yank a phone away from me before I could embarrass her, her nail nicked my skin and low and behold – a new keloid.
Not only is my skin incredibly sensitive, but I’m incredibly sensitive. My heart scars easily as well. Once broken, it does not heal the same. An ugly scar remains, a keloid, a painful reminder that makes it difficult for me to forgive and move on.
My heart is a lump of puckered flesh; scarred from many heart breaks. If someone hurts me, they scar my heart and I will find it incredibly difficult to be around them. I won’t know how to act, because I’ll think about the pain that they caused me, even without wanting to, and it will affect my interactions with them despite my best efforts.
You can say you forgive someone, you can say you’re okay with it…but saying it doesn’t necessarily make it so. Even though I want to forgive those who have hurt me, it isn’t easy…because my heart is full of keloids.
I wish I could be one of those people who easily forgives. I wish I didn’t have so many keloids on my heart. I wish I knew how to be around those who have hurt me, without remembering the pain.
But alas, I keloid. My best form of defense is to pull back with silence, because I don’t know how to effectively express my feelings and why they are valid. Each time I have tried in the past, I’m told “that shouldn’t matter. That was years ago – get over it.” As if it’s truly that simple. Time doesn’t necessarily erase all wounds – I’m still covered in keloids from previous surgeries, and my heart is still covered in keloids from previous heartbreaks.
How ironic is that? A writer that can’t effectively express their feelings. I mean I can, but I can’t. I’ve never been good at confrontation. I’ve never been good at trying to explain the place where I am coming from. I’ve never been good at it because I feel as if my emotions are not valid. After all, I am sensitive. I should stop being sensitive and then I won’t have those problems, right?
Or maybe, maybe, my sensitive nature isn’t the problem. Maybe the things that I’m trying to say should just…matter. Maybe I deserve an apology of some sort.