Hidden and Visible Scars

We are a visual society; no doubt.  We are bombarded every day with visual images that appeal to our desires and even our dislikes.  I’m a part of the ‘we’.  I love pretty things. I love art, nature, the wonder of the universe, the shape of a man, and colorful food makes me hungry.  But beneath, in the making, in the growing, and often in places we can’t see - there is a mixture of hidden and visible scars that led to the beautiful image in front of us. Many of us never notice these scars, because it takes a different kind of eyes to see them.

I was blessed in the aspect that I was raised by a blind man.  I learned before I could I walk to “see” differently. It’s like a native language, and not really something that one can fully learn as an adult with the same degree.  While a new language can be easily obtained, that natural fluidity is something else entirely. I lend this ability to see differently to one of the main foundations in my writing as well.

My eyes are drawn to the hidden and visible scars of the human soul, and it’s often very painful.  The feelings sometimes are so overwhelming I just crumble inside, yet also inspiring that I can’t help but smile. I see people differently, I see beauty and cruelty, I see depth and shallowness, I see love and indifference when I meet a person, especially when I’m simply talking to them face to face. I try to avoid their eyes, because that’s when I see them most clearly. Their scars don’t scare me away, but intrigue me.  Their imperfections I find the most beautiful. 

None of us are perfect.  I think I’m an amazing person.  I would be intrigued by me. I love that woman I see in the mirror, because even though she has accomplished many things, and has an energy that is almost uncontrollable – I see her visible and hidden scars.  I see that small white scar on her left breast where once death dared to attack. I see those huge, long white lines that run down the length of her stomach and remember the years of suffering and freedom that followed. I see the small white scar from the blade that wanted to kill me.  I see the little burn marks and remember that scared little girl that once thought her world would always be filled with darkness. I see the Cesarean and stretch marks that were gained bringing the three most important people into my life – lives that was created within me and that I brought into this world. I also see the scar of the child I never got to hold.  I see the loose skin, the graying hairs, the beginning wrinkles, the cottage-cheese thighs and other signs of getting older.  I see the limp hair and weak teeth due to chemo and vitamin deficiencies.  I see all those things – yet when I look at myself I see a beautiful soul.

Some will never see beyond a pretty face. Many will never able to get passed a fat ass, a broken tooth, flabby skin, or something else very shallow.  We are a visual world.  We want the world to accept us and all our hidden and visible scars, but we are not willing to do the same for others.  We want everyone to understand our pain, our hopes, our dreams, but often unwilling to listen and be a support for someone else’s pain, hopes and dreams. That’s why I love pets.  Pets don’t give a damn how you look – they care about how you treat them. If you love and feed them, you are the most beautiful thing in the world to them.

I know I’m weird, and odd, and definitely not typical – because I’m drawn to the deep.  I’m drawn to what I can feel when I close my eyes, more than what I can see when I have them open. I’m attracted to souls, not faces, not even if they look like Jason Mamoa.  I’m drawn to a presence that allows me to feel safe, to feel free to be myself, to feel unafraid to show my scars. But the world is superficial. It’s one of the reasons I’m often afraid to meet new people. In my experience it doesn’t go so well.  It’s human nature to put our best foot forward and greet the world with a smile.  Because of who I am, the energy I express, how I speak, or how I’m open, or what I’ve accomplished - I am often placed on a pedestal, loved by an ideology that was created in their minds, and desired by an imagination of who they want me to be – and in reality they meet a simple woman riddled with hidden and visible scars.  I am still all they imagined, just their vision changed. The fall hurts, no matter how big or small.  With this vision of mine, I always see it when it happens – and it happens a lot. 

I can’t control how the world sees me, or loves me, or doesn’t.  I love me JUST the way I am.  I am enough. I am beautiful regardless of my imperfections and my scars. I am a good woman. I have a good heart. I can hold my head high because I am filled with integrity. I have been through hell so many times, yet refuse to let it embitter me, or break me, or use it as an excuse to become a mean, cruel, and selfish person.  I’m not perfect, but I possess a perfect love.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Beautiful Reflection

Hello, Beautiful.

It’s so nice to see your smile.

The glow of life and beauty emanates from within you.

Shadows lurk all around,

Yet golden ambiance surrounds you,

Your vivacity cuts through the darkness.

In your gaze hope dwells and deep, deep love resides.

Rejected. Abandoned. Scarred. These bright hazel beauties often weep.

Yet, they hold fast to the radiant tendril of hope.

Who dares to directly face their gaze?

Who can look upon them and stand before their truth, their passion, their hope?

Not many, if one.

Only light can stand before the light,

For shadows are powerless and retreat into corners in its presence.

Oh, Beautiful Reflection – don’t be afraid to shine.

You are a bright star, a shining beacon of celestial radiance.

It is what you’re meant to do, why you’re made.

Don’t be afraid to love.

That’s all there is – love.

Without love – there’s nothing but a cold, dead, black hole.

Sweater Weather

I couldn’t believe it when I woke up this morning and threw the covers back, to find my warm hibernation had been invaded by a frosty chill. I nearly let out a yelp, jumped up, and quickly wrapped in my plush house coat, not the thin silky one. I needed warmth. After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I checked the thermostat in the hallway to make sure I didn’t knock the air-conditioning down to a low temp, mistaking having thought I cut it completely off the morning before. The temperature was set to 75, yet it felt so much colder. I hoped I wasn’t getting sick.

A huge smile crossed my face when I trundled back to my bedroom and picked up my cell phone and shining across my screen was a digital display reading 52 degrees. Below that sat a forecast for sunny skies and an expected high of just 75. Yeah, Baby, it was Sweater Weather!

Now I understood why I had slept so good and yet felt so cold… it was cold. It’s the type of weather you open the windows during the day, snuggle in the covers at night, and set the furnace to warm you in the mornings. So, that’s exactly what I did, I flipped the switch to heat and set the temperature to 68. A few minutes later after all the burners fired up in the furnace, I had to pull the batteries from my smoke detectors and open the back door as the first fire of the season cleared the dust from a long Spring and Summer. Don’t worry, I put the batteries back in as the dust disappeared.

The first waves of Autumn have arrived. This is my favorite time of year.

Other than a few cultural prejudices, the Georgia summer heat is one of the main reasons why I have this strong desire to move. Another reason is simply that I’m an explorer, a rambler, a curious cat that wants to see the world. However, a Georgia Autumn is one of the best and most prettiest I’ve seen in the many places I’ve already travelled. I absolutely LOVE this state when the nights and mornings drop to a frosty temp, the skies are clear, the days are mild, the leaves on the trees are changing, and the autumn flowers are blooming. It means it’s time to get back to the woods and explore more hidden trails, beautiful waterfalls, breathe in some fresh air, and climb some Georgia mountains. It’s the perfect balance.

The seasons are not the only thing changing. I’ve been feeling …different lately. I’m not sure how to describe it. It’s a mixture, much like the heat of summer fighting to linger as the cool air of Autumn fights to claim its dominance. My past and my future selves are fighting for dominance of my present. My passions are fighting within themselves, changing from a burning hot excitement to a more mellow, content state of being. Don’t get me wrong – I love to burn hot, but if I’m burning hot all the time, I’ll eventually burn out.

I’ve recently walked away from a relationship that was just… quite frankly, all wrong for me. Though this man made me laugh quite often, which was a wonderful thing, and he had a lot to offer, he also frustrated me in a sense that he lacked a fire burning in him to match the fire burning in me. I had all this passion bottled up inside me, but instead of providing a valve to help me release it, he became a stopper – dousing it with cold water. I found myself compromising often, pushing my desires and plans to the side, to accommodate a lifestyle I had already chosen to leave behind. I knew I could play this particular game, but I didn’t want to play it. I’ve been there, done that, and knew it would never make me truly happy because it’s not a lifestyle that accommodates who I truly am.

I also faced another relationship, another form of passion, another game, but found it too is not really the game I wanted to play. Unlike the above mentioned relationship, this one actually burned really hot, too hot. Instead of dousing me with cold water and smoldering my own flames, it threatened to overwhelm me completely, leaving me nothing but ashes. I’ve been there before too, and got burned. I still feel the licking flames and carry those scars. I don’t want to get burned again, so I found myself walking away from that relationship too.

The change that’s happening is that the relationship I’m choosing, the one that fulfills me most, that balances me, that pushes me into those new adventures, allowing me to experience many of the things I’ve always wanted to do and see, is the one that has the right mixture of hot and cold, excitement and calm, adventure and responsibility – it’s the relationship I’m developing with myself. Simply put – I want to date me. It’s sweater weather, and I want to cloak myself with the right kind of sweater, appropriate for the right temperature, to maximize the right level of comfort. Maybe someday I’ll meet a man that will bring the right balance for me, but until that time comes… I already have the right garment for these changing times.

Till next time,



~The Perfect Sweater