A friend on Facebook brought it to my attention that today is March 1st, Self-Harm Awareness Day. She wrote a beautiful post telling her story and every single point hit home with me, especially after I spent last week writing and working a song reflecting on newer and happier moments in my own self-harm story.
It’s called Freckles and Scars, a title that came from a surreal moment in a well lit dance studio a couple weeks ago. I looked down at my arms and could see the faded scars dancing with my freckles, happily coexisting. My freckles are one of my favorite parts of my physical appearance. Yet, there they are fraternizing with the memories of my darkest moments, the faded scars from nights of ripping myself apart. The longer I thought about it the more beautiful it became, the mosaic I had become. All my broken parts coming together to make something new and graceful. The chorus goes like this:
“Rebuild myself out of freckles and scars, Refuse to tame my lion’s heart, Grace wins the day, I think I found my new start in my freckles and scars.”
As I rolled the idea around in my mind, I found myself in a rather tumultuous week. One day I was on top of the world, embodying my lyrics perfectly and finding that place of renewal. The next day I had to go on a run because I was so angry with myself I was afraid I would do something stupid. But the more I wrote and the more I sang the song the more I believed it; the more I was able to look at myself as a mosaic put together with grace.
It’s been two years and about three months since the last time I self-harmed and I praise God for that every day. It’s still hard. There are times that I remember the pain as cleansing and clarifying rather than seeing the harm it did to both myself and the people I love. There are days that my arms itch more than you can imagine. But friends, there are days where I can smile ear to ear knowing that I have survived. Days where I can look at myself in the mirror and genuinely love who I am becoming. I have not only survived but I am healing. I can look at my scars and see something of use, something beautiful. And I can write a song about it.
I can’t wait to sing this song for you, my friends. I can’t wait to show you the joy I feel when I sing it, the clean daylight that I can feel on my face when I sing the words I wrote that week. I want to share this with the world because I need you to know how it feels. You know how it feels to fall apart, the whole world knows that. But do you know how it feels to rebuild yourself out of all your little pieces? Do you know what it feels like to be a mosaic, to see the beauty next to the broken and bruised parts? I need you to know. I need you to know who you are, not as little pieces scattered around a room after you’ve fallen apart and exploded, but who you are when you are rebuilt and renewed.
I can show you how I feel, how it feels for me. But I can’t put you back together. And honestly, you can’t do it either. Not by yourself anyways. Grace wins the day. Jesus conquered the grave. Jesus died and rose again, for the broken and the bruised, for you. No one builds a mosaic quite like Christ.