That moment stands out in my mind like the Empire State Building. That moment when my third-grade teacher threw up her hands and walked away from my desk. That torturous moment when my face burned with embarrassment and frustration as the tears splashed on my desk like pouring rain. As hard as I tried, my brain just could not grasp it!
Math has always been my worst enemy. Worse than a snarling, junkyard dog. Even worse than that tall, skinny school bus bully. And somehow, between my frustrating disabilities and feeling like a complete failure, I got this crazy notion that if I messed up, the world would stop spinning.
Childhood trauma. We all have our painful stories to tell. Some even bear traces of humor, like the time my mother dragged me kicking and screaming to our next-door neighbors and made me apologize for being sassy. I needed a straitjacket that day!
Some memories fade over time, while others stick in our hearts and minds like superglue. And, the humiliation of being singled out that day as the sole classroom dummy left a deeper scar on my heart than the tattoo on my leg.
But what we do with those scars of yesterday is what makes us who we are today. Do we stay crippled for the rest of our lives? Do we blame others for our misfortune? Do we blame ourselves?
I love watching the documentaries I Survived. It’s amazing how people suffered unthinkable acts of torture, were left for dead, and came out alive. Later, many of those victims chose to become law enforcement officers and advocates for other victims. Some found love again after their faces had been butchered and scarred beyond recognition. But all of them bravely pushed through it with a better understanding of who they are.
Our lives, one way or another, have all been changed. None of us leaves this world with the same, baby-smooth skin in which we were born. Whoever we are, whatever we do, rich or poor, we all bear the scars of life, but only the brave survive.
Straight From the Heart 