I've never believed in signs from the universe, but I'm starting to. Earlier this summer, this was one of the secrets on PostSecret:
Around that same time, a very unlikely person had some very unlikely things to say about my scars. I'm still not quite willing to embrace them, but I'm no longer ashamed of them. In fact, after what I am now confident was my final surgery two weeks ago, I'm happier with how they look than I have been in three years.
Then last night I started reading Little Bee by Chris Cleave and within the first ten pages I came across this:
"...and I ask you right here please to agree with me that a scar is never ugly. That is what the scar makers want us to think. But you and I, we must make an agreement to defy them. We must see all scars as beauty. Okay? This will be our secret. Because take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, I survived."
To quote ee cummings, "Unbeing dead isn't being alive." It's taken me three years, but I finally get it. I've done things this summer that I haven't let myself do since cancer. But mostly, I've let myself have fun. I've let myself live. And it's only just beginning. So look out.