The Unseen Scars & Mental Health

“It has been said, ‘time heals all wounds.’ I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.” ― Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy


I have noticed lately all of the physical scars I have. One from the hip surgery, two from having pressure point sores, and there are those that I cannot tell you how they happened.

Then, there are those scars that cannot be seen with the human eye. Scars of mental wars, those that were caused by the lost of loved ones, some caused by betrayal, and then there are those scars that have been self-inflicted. I must admit some of those scars no longer bring about mental anguish anymore. They are just there as a reminder of things I have endured over my sixty years.

I like to think that my scars have not molded me, that they do not define me, but that would not be truthful. The death of my maternal grandfather opened a new door, one that would have me sit in front of a piano and work feverishly to make it sound like good music. The death of a second cousin, two years older than myself, caused by falling off scaffolding while working on a barn. The preacher’s open line of the eulogy, “Life Is Not Fair“!

It is because of those invisible scars that I can be thankful for every day, every moment, and every thing that comes my way.

I have that invisible scar that was created by an suicide attempt. This scar makes me want to get out of bed every morning. It is a reminder how that life can be fleeting like a whisper of smoke.

So dear reader, do scars have an impact on your life? Have they help shaped you into the person you now are? I would like to hear your replies about those invisible scars!

Benefits of Blogging

“I guess my point is, if you’re one of these people considering giving up on blogging in exchange for paying more attention to Facebook, Twitter, YouTube and MySpace, or whatever they throw at us mere mortals, bear in mind you are giving up on something rather unique and wonderful.” (Hugh Macleod)

When I was in the hospital I kept wishing I could access the internet and go to my blog. I wanted to get caught up on all the great blogs that I follow. Think me strange, I felt like something was missing.

Blogging does so much for me, it is cathartic, for it has allowed me a medium to speak about those things that I care about. Things such as; mental health, healing of the mind, and also healing of the soul. I have read many times from other bloggers that it gives oneself a place where they belong, a community. This for me cannot be found in other social media platforms.

In high school I loved English, well maybe not Shakespeare, but in general. I love to read and for quite some time I did not consider myself a reader. Blogging has provided me a venue to stretch my capabilities in writing and has brought back parts of my education that I had become sloppy.

It is also a window to peak through to learn what is happening with others near and far. It also gives others a chance to read about how I am doing and also feeling. I have found that I do not stand alone in my struggles, there are many others who are, or have, faced the same type of struggles. It gives me courage to grit my teeth and power through to the other side of those struggles.

Communication, I love to engage in healthy conversations. The push and pull of talking to others and have educated debates about all the issues of life that we go through or face. It doesn’t mean that we will agree on everything because doing so would be cookie cutter humans.

Blogging brings diversity and I learned to love diversity growing up in a city of multicultural. It was the ability to learn how others live, their customs and also their beliefs. When I live in Toronto I loved going and eating foods from other cultures. My one favorite was a “Meat Patty” which I believe was from a Jamaica culture.

So dear readers, these are some, not all, of the benefits I find in blogging!

How I Managed The Pain of Abuse – Continued

“The best revenge is to be unlike him who performed the injury.”
― Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

“The act of forgiveness takes place in our own mind. It really has nothing to do with the other person.”
Louise Hay


What I am about to write, and what you are about to read, may not be your cup of tea. It is not my intention to tell you how to handle the hurts that have happened throughout your life. This old guy recognizes that pain that has been inflicted through the actions of someone else is difficult even on the best of days.

I am writing to share how I arrived where I am today, yes, scarred, bruised, and sometimes dejected. I have found everyone heals differently, also how they approach handling rejection, accusations, and emotional hell.

I am not going to write a sermon, yet, I will say my faith has carried me throughout my roughest times.

There were times growing up that I would cry and ask, “why did I have to be born”, “what did I do wrong”? My self esteem was low and to put it nicely, I had to look up to touch bottom. I am sure that those who shot the arrows didn’t care about the deep pain they inflicted. I have learned that abusers take glee silently and it makes them feel superior over the abused.

There is a story I heard that sort of describes how I have managed the pain of the abuse both physically and emotionally. The farmer had a pig that fell into a deep hole. The hole was too deep for the farmer to rescue the pig. So, the farmer decided he would bury the pig live. He went for a shovel and started to throw dirt down over the pig. Well, the pig shocked the old farmer for what it did. You see, the pig shook off the dirt patted it under his feet. When the farmer saw that he realized how to rescue that pig. He started throwing dirt over the pig. Once again, the pig shook it off and patted it under his feet. It wasn’t very long that the pig had patted enough dirt under him that he was soon out of the pit.

I am not one that carries a grudge, I do not seek revenge, what I do though, I just cut the cord of that person out of my life.

Let me be honest, I do have my moments where I think about having a pity party. What my father did to me was create in me to work to be better than him. To do something with my life. I put blood sweat and tears learning to play that piano. Five years later I was traveling across my home country and America doing what I loved, playing the piano, singing, and then learning a new talent, playing an organ. No one can claim that they did that, nobody but me, I did all that and lifted myself out of a low self-esteem.

So dear reader, all I can say is, that was my road out of the pain. I am still a work in progress, but, I am not the old guy I was even five years ago!