Character development

For the past eleven weeks I’ve had the privilege of waking up to a business card-sized battle scar on my forearm—a parting gift from the man I spent the past year and a half convincing myself was the man that I’d grow old with, the man I had made my sun. I say privilege because I know it could’ve been much worse—I only suffered from minor abrasions, no fractured or broken bones and nothing that required stitches; he left me physically intact and alive, and for that I am grateful. Though this scar is by no means aesthetically appealing and has garnered numerous stares and expressions of concern, I am in no rush for it to fade away.

But...why?

Because I see this scar as a symbol of the end of an era, a marker of my resilience and strength, a reminder to remember my worth, to remember my promise to myself to trust my intuition and to stop fighting for the affection of men who don’t deserve even a second of my time.

The man who left me with this battle scar that I’ve come to adore is not the first man that I’ve allowed to abuse me both physically and mentally/emotionally—I’ve spent the better part of my twenties struggling to overcome my insecurities, believing that I wasn’t skinny enough to be pretty, or sexy, or beautiful, or worthy, convincing myself that my options in love were limited. Too many times I’ve forgiven men who have assaulted, abused, coerced, and raped me; I accepted it all as a fact of life because the prospect of being alone forever was far worse than that of being in even an abusive relationship.

I know better now.

I’ve been blessed with the most amazing friends, colleagues, peers, and associates who have reminded me of my worth, of the fact that I deserve nothing less than greatness.

I’m still looking for love, but I finally know my worth, I finally have enough faith in myself, my greatness, to let go and walk away.