fears, judgement, memories, secrets, sexual assault, trauma, vulernable

EXPOSED: Your scars should be accessorized

Welcome to the first ‘Exposed’ blog post (happening every Tuesday)! Remember my first ever post, What the FUCK am I doing?. The name is self explanatory. I had no clue where I was going with this whole blog thing, how it was going to look or even what was going to come of it. I still don’t really know what the fuck I am doing but thats okay. I am just riding this wave out! I do however, have an end result which is to pay it forward and help as many people as I can. I love helping. I believe I was born to help and many of my experiences along the way have given me lessons on how to be of value to others. I was by no means always this positive, ambitious, little thing, looking to better myself at every chance I get. 

There are plenty of stories out there where people can recall back to when they were a child and all of the dreams and goals they created in their early childhood. I don’t remember a lot of my childhood; thus I don’t remember many of what my childhood dreams and goals were. I do recall wanting to be a dolphin trainer and then a hairdresser at one time in my life though. (With the amount that I have dyed my hair and cut it, I essentially can say I did become a hairdresser.)

Although I don’t remember much when I was younger, I know I had a good one. I had two (technically I still have one) loving parents who worked hard at teaching me right from wrong and allowing me to mold into the person I was intended to be. My mom never went a day without telling me she loved me. I know she did. She was a fierce woman and also very loving. I was a jock. I was constantly into sports and playing outside with the neighborhood guys. I was on several travel league soccer teams up until college. That is to the extent of where my memory goes.

I don’t remember a lot because our brains are amazing organs and stop at nothing to protect us. I experienced trauma…

You see I can’t really get past that last sentence. I have written several other sentences after it, only to hit the backspace tab and delete each one of them. I would stand firm in saying I have accepted my trauma, I’ve dealt with my trauma and I have redefined the impact it has on me. If you’re wondering why the fuck do I keep deleting my sentences and prolonging the next paragraph then, then you’re wondering the same thing as I am right now. Why the hell can’t I just keep typing?!

There is ridiculous stigma (I’m taking 100% responsibility for contributing to this as I am stigmatizing myself as you read and I write) around what is appropriate to expose to the world and what isn’t. There is ridiculous amounts of judgement with those stigmas too. And no matter how okay I am with my past and how much I have learned and gained from it, I still have fears surrounding it. What will people think? Will they think I’m trying to gain attention? Will they doubt me? Will they look down on me? Will they be turned off? Will they, will they, will they?

Along my journey, someone has always entered and allowed me an opportunity to connect with them because they expose themselves. They show me they too are human e509181999f952370129925b3812228b--quotes-for-men-farmhouseand flawed. (Remember the focus Becca! – side mantra I tell myself). Thus, I have to remind myself, the purpose is to pay it forward. I want others to find their passion, their zest for life and nail each and every dream of theirs out of the park, just as I am doing. I want others to find their inner strength and heal their past. It was a lonely, lonely world I lived in and if I can use any of my trials and tribulations to help another, I’m all in.

Now that I have called a huddle with the inner dialogue team, pepped myself back up, let me try this again.

I experienced trauma. I was raped in middle school. It became torture attending school and living day to day in my body. So I found the Badboys Club to hangout with. I got into a pretty toxic relationship and was treated poorly for several years. I became one massive ball of anger. I loved fighting, I loved drugs and alcohol and I loved escaping reality. I decided to drop out of high school towards the end of sophomore year. I officially became lost. The world passed me by day in and day out and I was no where to be found. Sure my body was there, but my mind was no where to be found. I lived like this for years. From the age of 14 to 24 I ran, hid, and pushed away anything and everything around me.

Due to being sexually assaulted and staying in an emotionally abusive relationship for years, I lost all self worth, security and trust in others. The moral of the story I learned from those two events was that everyone was going to hurt me and therefore I needed to 415414e89a584b29ae5553b7eabe619eprotect myself. I could not count on anyone but myself so I began a life of relying solely on myself. I hurt you before you hurt me. I ran away before you abandoned me. I took you out by your knees before you could take mine. I did the damaging before you could. Back then I am sure it served a purpose, but over the years it slowly stopped protecting me and began hurting me.

I lost valuable time with my mother. I lost the opportunities to build a strong relationship with my brother. I missed out on amazing friends. I gave up on dreams I had due to the fear of failure. I lost 20 years of memories. Most of all, I instilled the belief of ‘I am not good enough’ in every nook and cranny. I left no rock unturned in my world. Every where I turned, I proved myself to be of no value to you, me or the world.

Why share this? Because how can I ask someone to show up for life and be the best version of themselves, if I can’t own ALL of my truth. I cannot ask you to let me help you, to let me help coach you through life, if I don’t own my truth. Our truth, our true self, isn’t just the glitz and the glamour. It isn’t just the stories others love hearing. It is about owing each part of us, the good, the bad and the ugly. It is about not shying away from the scars, but accessorizing them. They make us who we are and we should never hide them away.

The reason I am so passionate about what I do, why I am stopping at nothing to get this all off the ground, is because I know I am not unique. Whether your trauma is sexual assault or domestic violence like mine, or it looks different such as bullying, absent parents, economics, race, whatever your scars may be, they still bring the same feelings of ‘I am not enough’. I refuse to allow myself to feel that way again; therefore, I will continue to expose myself over and over again in hopes of helping, inspiring and changing anyone else looking for the best version of themselves too. 

 

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Toodles, Becca Jane 🙂

 

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4 thoughts on “EXPOSED: Your scars should be accessorized”

  1. I SEE YOU Becca Jane. Not sure why but that statement keeps resonating through my mind every time you shed a layer (expose yourself). But I’ve always seen you, even through the bitch face 😁 . Love you chica! Keep crushing it warrior!

    Like

  2. WOW. Stumbled upon your page on the discover. I have never related to anything on the internet so much. Everything you mentioned… I’ve been through that too. It’s good to hear about others overcoming the same struggles. thank you for having courage and sharing your experiences with the world!! You are amazing girl. Check out my page! I’d love to connect on here/instagram and follow your story!

    Liked by 1 person

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