Just as many of you, I also have scars inside and outside from various ages. I'm sorry for being so graphic. Please, forgive me. I am also not looking for sympathy or attention on these things. I thank you all for being so brave as to help me be brave enough to share these out-loud.
Such scars from scalding water on my stomach and shoulder, cigarette burns on legs and back, lash marks on my back and legs, broken bones that were set years after they had been broken, having a board cut onto my stomach so they played tic-tac-toe on my stomach, being cut vaginally and rectally, a broken jaw and cheek bone from being pistol whipped, hit with beer bottles in the face, being shot in my leg, garden hose nozzle cuts on my legs, cast iron skillet over the head, a broken ear drum from repeated blows to the head. I wear a hearing aid on one side since a child, but the other can't hear at all. The scars on my head won't grow hair so I wear my hair long to cover them.
I had a lot of surgery after the police rescued me as a child. To be able to stand upright and learn how to walk they had to repair my legs and get me strong enough. I had protein malnutrition and I still have issues with my bones and organs due to that. After I was rescued as a child, the only way I knew how to fight back was to growl, bite and scratch which I learned from living with the animals.
I had to have more surgery after the first break-in when I was in my twenties. Most of the surgery, other than stopping the bleeding had to wait, since I learned I was pregnant. The plastic surgeon did a wonderful job on my face, and I got a new cheek bone, and new tear duct, but there was only so much they could do because of old scar tissue and damage. Even though I've had numerous surgeries, and numerous plastic surgeries on my face, I still have scar tissue internally that causes pain. Then I contracted cancer and had to have more surgery a few times over the next twenty years.
Since the break-in when I was in my thirties, I've had to be in a wheelchair and have no contol over my bladder for the most part. I can walk somewhat, but not for long distances yet. I'm still working on that. Within the past thirty years I have had more surgeries to try and rectify some of that old damage, and I am doing much better in many ways. However, I haven't been able to work any longer since 2000, so the funds are not there to do any more work.
For many years, when people looked at me, they turned their faces, or made faces. Children used to call me Frankenstein monster or point and then run away. One little boy in a grocery store came up and ask me how I got broken. His mother grabbed him and pulled him away. In years past, most people pretend they don't see me, but when I turn they look away and stop staring. The amazing thing is, I've been married a few times and other than my last husband, they were very kind. When they touched me, they were very gentle.
My second husband was so kind. He is the one who helped me to get the plastic surgery on my face, and he also taught me to keep the light on when he made love to me, which I never thought I'd be able to do. He helped me to accept my body, scars and all. At least I did until after the third break-in. sigh.
I might have walked funny all my life, but I continued to walk, and when I couldn't walk, I crawled. I might not look like everyone else, but at least my burn scars were not on my face, and most of the scars I can cover with clothing. When I leave my home I wear long sleeves and long skirts or pants. While people can still see the scars on my neck, they are no longer bulging.
I shower with my lights off and avoid looking at myself, ever. I do not allow others to take pictures of me. There have been a few photographs that got out over the years, but they are many years old, and I look nothing like them now. Old age and being a hermit does have it's advantages.
Such scars from scalding water on my stomach and shoulder, cigarette burns on legs and back, lash marks on my back and legs, broken bones that were set years after they had been broken, having a board cut onto my stomach so they played tic-tac-toe on my stomach, being cut vaginally and rectally, a broken jaw and cheek bone from being pistol whipped, hit with beer bottles in the face, being shot in my leg, garden hose nozzle cuts on my legs, cast iron skillet over the head, a broken ear drum from repeated blows to the head. I wear a hearing aid on one side since a child, but the other can't hear at all. The scars on my head won't grow hair so I wear my hair long to cover them.
I had a lot of surgery after the police rescued me as a child. To be able to stand upright and learn how to walk they had to repair my legs and get me strong enough. I had protein malnutrition and I still have issues with my bones and organs due to that. After I was rescued as a child, the only way I knew how to fight back was to growl, bite and scratch which I learned from living with the animals.
I had to have more surgery after the first break-in when I was in my twenties. Most of the surgery, other than stopping the bleeding had to wait, since I learned I was pregnant. The plastic surgeon did a wonderful job on my face, and I got a new cheek bone, and new tear duct, but there was only so much they could do because of old scar tissue and damage. Even though I've had numerous surgeries, and numerous plastic surgeries on my face, I still have scar tissue internally that causes pain. Then I contracted cancer and had to have more surgery a few times over the next twenty years.
Since the break-in when I was in my thirties, I've had to be in a wheelchair and have no contol over my bladder for the most part. I can walk somewhat, but not for long distances yet. I'm still working on that. Within the past thirty years I have had more surgeries to try and rectify some of that old damage, and I am doing much better in many ways. However, I haven't been able to work any longer since 2000, so the funds are not there to do any more work.
For many years, when people looked at me, they turned their faces, or made faces. Children used to call me Frankenstein monster or point and then run away. One little boy in a grocery store came up and ask me how I got broken. His mother grabbed him and pulled him away. In years past, most people pretend they don't see me, but when I turn they look away and stop staring. The amazing thing is, I've been married a few times and other than my last husband, they were very kind. When they touched me, they were very gentle.
My second husband was so kind. He is the one who helped me to get the plastic surgery on my face, and he also taught me to keep the light on when he made love to me, which I never thought I'd be able to do. He helped me to accept my body, scars and all. At least I did until after the third break-in. sigh.
I might have walked funny all my life, but I continued to walk, and when I couldn't walk, I crawled. I might not look like everyone else, but at least my burn scars were not on my face, and most of the scars I can cover with clothing. When I leave my home I wear long sleeves and long skirts or pants. While people can still see the scars on my neck, they are no longer bulging.
I shower with my lights off and avoid looking at myself, ever. I do not allow others to take pictures of me. There have been a few photographs that got out over the years, but they are many years old, and I look nothing like them now. Old age and being a hermit does have it's advantages.
