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March 2003 Read the whole story by clicking the links below: [ Chapter One - I found myself on my butt in the dirt ]
Chapter Three - My life had changed in a matter of minutes. As my mom drove me back to school that day, there was very little said considering it was a seven hour drive. Through the hours and the distance, I began to feel somewhat alone. I missed my friends at home and wished that I could go back, even though I knew they had already left as I had been the last to leave. I hoped that my school friends would be as supportive and accepting of my face and new scars. I wished that there was some way I could just hide from the world. We arrived at school, and through the hustle and bustle of signing in, unpacking and saying good-bye to my family - I forgot my trepidation and anxiety. The enthusiasm and excitement of greeting school friends that I had not seen for six weeks, came to an abrupt end, when my dorm monitor walked in, and with a shriek asked the dreaded question, I secretly hoped would never come, but I knew eventually would. "What happened to your face?" she asked. The silence was filled with what seemed to be an echo of her question. My four roommates stopped as all eyes turned towards me. So began the first explanation of many that were to come. I hoped that as the days passed, and scabs healed and the treatment continued that eventually I would not feel like an insect under a microscope. Eventually, the attention focused on my face and scars became less and less, and my school friends just accepted what I now looked like. Unfortunately, the weeks of attention had just made me focus more on the healing scabs and scars, and all I saw in the mirror was a distorted image of scar tissue. Insult added to injury when I developed an allergy to the tissue oil, or rather an ingredient which is found in most creams and oils - Vitamin E. My skin reacted, breaking out in large bumps, which then blistered and popped causing little sores. Where before I had been a confident swimmer, I no longer wore shorts and T-shirts, never mind a swimming costume, and rather donned long pants and long-sleeved shirts. I stopped participating in sports, and where my active lifestyle had kept me trim and slim, I now spent hours at the library and reading books. This only resulted in me gaining 10 kg's in a few short months, and diminished my already lagging self-esteem. As the end of the term approached I dreaded returning home and seeing my boyfriend and friends, as now I felt like a blimp, and the scarring on my face and shoulder looked worse then it had three months before. I phoned my cousin and offered to baby-sit her two young sons during the school holidays in return for refuge. She had not seen me since just before my accident, and was really concerned at the desperation and lack of self-worth in my voice. Taking matters in hand, she called my mom and asked for help, saying she needed me to baby-sit for her over the holidays, offering to take me to the doctor while I was with her in Johannesburg, and suggesting that a few days at the coast over Easter might give me the rest and relaxation I needed. Those few weeks were a blessing in more ways then one. My cousin listened as I cried, explaining the teasing comments I had endured by thoughtless teenage boys. The hurtful remarks, I so casually shrugged off, had left scars on an already battered heart. She encouraged me to walk my younger cousins to the park, carefully monitoring my diet, without me even being aware of the kilograms I was shedding. She took me to a doctor, who ran some tests and found a cream that would help my skin to heal. I had refused any suggestion of plastic surgery, scraping or whatever treatment that brought even a single instrument in the near vicinity of my body. Although, I lost the weight I had gained and my skin did heal to a degree the damage to my self-esteem was permanent. I barely looked in the mirror as the reflection was one that was just to painful to see. I formed a protective veneer, not allowing hurtful comments or positive compliments to penetrate. Through the next couple of years I became totally disdainful of my physical body, and treated it just as a vehicle to get me from A to B. I played sport. I worked hard at school and did relatively well, although not applying myself very much at all. Reading had become one of my favourite pass times, and I voraciously read a book everyday, losing myself in fact and fiction. I didn't allow anyone to take any photographs of me - at all. Even school photographs. I much preferred to be the person behind the camera. I didn't allow many people to get close to me, and the boys at school nicknamed me the 'Ice-Queen' or 'Ice-Princess'. Then it was only in my standard nine year, that the shell of icy protection I had built, began to melt. It was brought about by a very unexpected situation. A group of us were sitting around the pool. A dozen teenage boys and girls. Most of them in swimming costumes. I of course, was wearing long Bermuda shorts, and a short-sleeved shirt. I was having what I thought was a casual conversation with one of the guys. He made a comment about the cream I was wearing on my face, telling me I didn't need to wear what he termed 'cover-up'. I icily told him to mind his own business and what did he know about who I was, and what was right for me. Before my eyes, one of the gentlest guys I knew, exploded. He grabbed my hand, pulled me to my feet, dragged me into his home and to the nearest bathroom. Where he scrubbed my face clean, dried it off, pulled me after him to the nearest mirror and told me to look. I stood looking at the mirror with the normal unseeing eyes that I had looked with for the last couple of years. As I turned to leave, he once again grabbed me. Holding me facing the mirror, he asked me look at what he saw. He asked me to see the beautiful reflection that was mirrored back. For the first time in a while, I was able to see what had been there for a while. Yes, there was the remnants of a few scars, although you have to really look to see them, there was a slight distortion in my skin colour and tone. But rather then the distorted, scabbed, scarred face of my mental illusion, I saw the face of an attractive teenage girl. The face in the mirror was mind blowing. Who was this person? I could finally hear the many compliments I had been paid in those few short years, and yet had totally ignored. I started to understand what my family had been trying to tell me for more then two years. I turned to see the scars on my legs, although still visible, were hardly noticeable with my tan. The scar on my shoulder, although the worst of the lot, was not the grotesque feature I thought, and hardly mattered as I usually wore short sleeves. I wore a swimming costume that summer for the first time in what seemed like ages. As I look back and realise the depth of this experience. I have come to appreciate how easy it was to heal from the physical scars that marred my body and face. The emotional scarring of hurtful comments and unthinking remarks had eroded and distorted my view of myself. The diminishment of my self-esteem and confidence ran even deeper. In that moment of looking in the mirror with new eyes, my self-esteem and sense of who I was began to emerge. I vowed to heal my Mind and Spirit, the same way my Body had healed. Read the whole story by clicking the links below: [ Chapter One - I found myself on my butt in the dirt ]
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