✨Scars That Shine: The Beautiful Truth About Our Imperfections

“Turn your scars into stars.” — Robert Schuller

There was a time I would’ve done anything to hide the scars on my ankles. I hated wearing skirts or capris — truly hated it.

It wasn’t just about fashion or fit. It was the dread that would rise in my chest the moment my bare ankles were visible. I could feel the heat crawl up my neck and settle into my cheeks, my heart racing as if I were doing something shameful just by showing skin.

Every time I stepped outside in those clothes, I felt like I had made a mistake. I imagined every person’s eyes zooming straight in on the scars, silently judging, wondering what had happened to me.

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To me, those scars weren’t just marks. They were loud. Ugly. Unwanted reminders of a time in my life I didn’t want to explain.

I felt like a walking warning sign — like a car wreck on the side of the freeway. People might not say anything, but I could feel their curiosity, their confusion. And that felt unbearable.

There were days I’d get fully dressed, look at myself in the mirror, and rip the outfit off in frustration. Every fiber of me wanted to hide.The vulnerability. The shame. It didn’t feel worth it. I just wanted to disappear.

But lately, something inside me has shifted.

Maybe it’s because I’ve started dating again, or maybe it’s because I’ve been cleaning out my space — physically and emotionally — to make room for love. I tossed out the old clothes that didn’t fit, but not just because of size. I was done hiding. Done pretending I didn’t carry those scars.

Because the truth is: we all carry scars. Some are visible. Others sit just beneath the skin. But none of us makes it through this life unmarked.

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🌱What Scars Really Say About Us 

There was a time I dreamed of laser surgery — just zap them away like they never happened. But those scars did happen.

They’re part of my story. They’re part of what shaped me into the woman I am today. Each one is a landmark of survival. A map of what I’ve been through. One on each ankle. One on my hip — my favorite, actually, because it came with three years of unbearable pain… and three years of finding strength I never knew I had. One on my spine. One on my stomach.

Five in total. And five is a powerful number for me. My suicide attempt was on April 5th. The pain of that day left more than just emotional scars — but it also brought me to April 6th. A new day. A second chance.

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🕊 Lessons from a Twelve-Year-Old & a Broken Teacup

The other day, my 12-year-old niece told me about a song called “Scars to Your Beautiful” by Alessia Cara.

I’d heard it before, but never really listened. That night, I looked up the lyrics — and cried. Because somehow, this brilliant young girl saw beauty in my brokenness before I did.

There’s something sacred about that. And there’s something sacred about the way the Japanese repair broken pottery with gold (kintsugi)— highlighting the cracks instead of hiding them. They believe the object is more beautiful for having been broken. So what if we saw ourselves the same way?

💛 What My Scars Have Taught Me Not all scars come with beautiful metaphors. Some are born of pain, regret, or just plain bad timing. Like the day a laptop thief almost gave me my sixth scar.

I was at my favorite local coffee shop, outlining this very chapter, when the guy next to me asked if I could watch his laptop for a minute while he used the restroom. Moments later, a man I’d never seen before walked up, glanced around, and swiftly snatched the laptop off the table. Shocked, I let out a loud scream, and as adrenaline kicked in, I stood up instinctively to run after him.

But then I stopped. My body wouldn’t let me move fast enough — my disability held me back. In the chaos, the thief dropped a knife and a lighter as he sprinted away. It wasn’t until later, when I was sitting back down, my heart still pounding, that I realized:

My disability may have saved my life. Had I run after him, who knows what would’ve happened? That moment of stillness — of not chasing — may have spared me from something far worse.

So YES, I’ll wear the capris. Yes, I’ll show the scars. And yes, I’ll keep healing, inside and out.

Because as Chris Cleave, author of Little Bee said: “A scar does not form on the dying. A scar means I survived.”

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🌸 Action Nibbles:

• Look in the mirror and thank your scars — visible or invisible — for getting you here.
• The next time you feel like hiding, try showing instead. Spray your favorite scent on a scar and tell someone: “Want to see my war wounds?”
• Let your imperfections lead to deeper connection. Vulnerability is beautiful.
• Listen to “Scars to Your Beautiful.” Let it sink in.
• Make peace with the map that’s made you — even the crooked, painful paths. They brought you here.

We are not meant to be unbroken. We’re meant to be living, breathing stories — with stretch marks and laugh lines, heartaches and healed wounds. So go ahead: show your scars. They don’t diminish your beauty. They prove your strength. And who knows… maybe they’ll help someone else find the courage to embrace their own. 💛

With all my love,
Nayerie
Phoenix Coaching