Dear Diary, I Have a Scar

31 Days of Dear Diary
Read the series here.


July 01, 2008
2:10 AM (I was reading a book – & finished it)

I just noted to myself that I have not had depressive thoughts lately. I also found out that I am no longer covered by insurance – dental & vision. Vision I don’t need. But that 1-800-DENTIST commercial keeps runing in my head. But whatever. I didn’t (and will not) freak.

I still need to sign up for classes.

I just want to get out of school.

My neck & shoulder muscles have been acting up again.

Okay seriously. I wanted to write that I have not had depressive thoughts or moods. I’m so happy about that. I realize I still eat when stressed, mad, or bored. But having Depression a thing of the past? Man, it feels great! This is a nice summer.

But oops! I forgot about that Children’s Lit thing – :-/ my big bad. And I paid over $600 for that. Wait…6? Maybe 4. Oi. Ay-ya-yay.

Let’s get back to no depression, shall we? I think I’m less stressed and actually having fun. Can I please not think of stressful stuff? Depression sucks. I want to have fun. To be me. To just be. I should have mantras.


1. I will not dwell on problems.
2. I will not entertain stress.
3. I will dream, and dream big.
4. Dream. Write. Live.
5. I will just be.

I feel like talking to God. Often I feel like a hypocrite. I doubt He hears me or wants to be around me. I intentionally & unintentionally defy Him. I don’t read my Bible (save Fridays). I hardly pray. I seem to go through the Christian things like a robot. But, when all is said & done, I still want Him. I’m afraid of losing God. Not just bec. of hell, but bec. of being alone and lonely. God, I know for certain, always hears me and loves me. So.

-End transcript-

It looks nice, doesn’t it? I actually documented the moment when I realized that I no longer had depression. That I was happy. That I was doing well.

Except I think it was just the lack of sleep at 2 AM talking. Or worse, a manic depression episode.

The truth is, I was far from okay. 2005 was the year for me, the year when I started falling apart. Three years later to this journal entry, I thought I was okay but I wasn’t. Five more years would pass before I really was okay. Yep. 2013. Last year was the year for me, the year when I started living.

Maybe this (2008) was the starting point. Acceptance is the first step, isn’t that what people say? But mine is a long journey, that I’m revisiting through this #write31days challenge. I didn’t mean to.

I actually don’t like thinking about that part of my past. I couldn’t be happier if the past stayed in the past. I thought posting my old diary entries would mostly be funny, full of adolescent antics and teenage angst.

Well those were there, but so were my 20s. My 20s had become these hard crusty bits. Bits that sometimes feel like scabs. If I pick on ’em, I’ll bleed all over again. And I’m done bleeding. I’m tired of bleeding. It’s not fair and I don’t like it.

am done bleeding, I found out. These hard crusty bits of my past aren’t scabs. They’re scars.

I have a keloid scar on my left knee. It’s shaped like a shooting star. I was running in the house and scraped my knee on the corner of the lid a big plastic container that had an exposed metal hinge. I didn’t wear skirts or shorts that went above my knees because of that scar (old church ladies thought I was modest and loved me). But now, I’ve gotten past the embarrassment. It makes me unique and it’s like a badge of honor. If people ask, I have a story to tell and a lesson to give. Seriously, kids. Don’t run inside the house.

The hard crusty bits of our lives don’t have to be scabs. We don’t have to keep on bleeding. They can be scars: a uniqueness, a badge of honor, a story, a lesson. A testimony. Let God use your scars. Someone out there needs to hear the story behind them.



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