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Tomato Soup for the Soul: What My Scars Taught Me
Recently, my daughter learned she has to live with a scar on her face for the rest of her life. Daily she remonstrated about how she doesn’t like it one bit. I don’t blame her. In fact, I could empathize a lot! When I was 13 years old, I had a tragic accident that could’ve caused devastating scarring, potentially ending my life’s dream of becoming a musician and composer. ___________________________ It was the Saturday before starting 8th grade. I was ecstatic for school to start. I had requested a specific teacher and it was granted. I knew it was going to be an incredible year! I was also preparing for…
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Fighting v. Building
I feel like I’ve been at war with my own body since I was a teenager. It wasn’t the way my body looked that bothered me. It was anything that impacted my functionality and ability to perform physical/manual labor. My crooked, gnarly “grandma” fingers that ached every time I practiced the piano. Or the Raynaud’s that would flare and cripple my hands in the middle of an orchestra concert or piano recital. Painful knees. Yearly ankle sprains that landed me on crutches every.stinking.summer! Frequent viral, bacterial, and yeast infections. Incessant fatigue, exhaustion, and brain fog. Car accident. Labor and delivery trauma. Adult onset asthma. PPD. PMS. Plantar Faciitis. TMJ. Etc.!…
