Sick Girl Part X

Continued...

No, I am not completely cured of my skin disorder. I have scars still and I will have to have more surgeries in the future, but my life has changed. I am not in as much pain as I used to be in. I can sit, stand, and walk a lot longer than I used to be able to and that is way more than I ever expected. That awful, awful part of my life is finally over.

Yes, I am really self-conscious about scars that are still on my body. I don’t like to be naked in front of others. I know they will freak out and treat me like the sick girl. The only part of my body that is not permanently scarred from HS are my breast. I can wear clothes I have not been able to wear in 4 years. I feel like I can even, maybe, work again. I still have my writing business and I am starting off with some work from home opportunities. I am doubting myself and I am still afraid to step back into the world. I have been hidden away so long. I don’t want to be the sick girl forever. I don’t want to feel helpless again. I don’t want to be depressed and sad anymore. I know that with more time, I will spread my wings again and fly.

My love life…well, it’s a work in progress. I hate the process of explaining still why I am not like the other girls my age. I hate the process of telling guys about the scars my pretty clothes hide. I hate them thinking that I am in the position I am in because I lack drive and ambition. I have all the reasons why my dating pool is not as large…. I’m black, overweight, unemployed for the most part, emotional and physically scarred from HS and past hurts. But I am also intelligent, loyal, feminine, no kids, caring, understanding, funny, spontaneous, and a pretty darn good writer/researcher. Yes I have quirks: sensitive, spoiled, and can be a little all over the place but I know how to love.

I guess the main thing is, I want to be understood. I want someone to truly love me for all that is me, good and bad. My friend Ken said it best, “I would love you bald-headed with one leg”, when I asked him if my scars bothered him. I guess it takes a strong man to love a sick girl, a bird with a broken wing. I guess it takes an even stronger sick girl to allow herself to be loved that completely too.