Scar Wars

every day i am trying to feel better.
it's all i can do. i know i hide it so well-
but inside i feel trapped, caged; an animal.
i make up my face and slip into cute clothes
but inside i am a mess; hurting a lot.

i am not ashamed of my cutting. maybe a bit that i
am so old and i still resort to that sort of dysfunctional
coping mechanism. not many moms i know still do this.
but it takes me a lot longer to figure things out
than most people. [example: being 34 and just now buying my own used car]

so with what my body cannot do and my mind cannot cope with
i give myself this day to feel okay with it.
so it takes me a while.
so i don't have an MBA like my dad always wanted-
and i am not painfully thin like my mother always wanted-
i am just me. sort of broken and beleaguered...
and hey, i spelled beleaguered right on the first go around-
so maybe i am not that useless after all.

i am sick of hiding these scars of mine.
today i'll even wear shorts...
because you know what?
they are battle wounds and many, MANY of these battles i've won in the end.
so i don't see these cuts as reminders of failures, they are a permanent homage
to how strong i really am.