Learning To Love You More




Assignment #11
Photograph a scar and write about it.

Andrea Lambert
Chicago, Illinois USA
Email Andrea



Do I feel like going into detail about this scar? Not really. I fell like I've told this story a thousand times. Anymore when someone asks me about it I close off and go into a pre-recorded spiel, sort if like the saga that is my parents' divorce and remarriages. It's all paraphrased and designed to be understood. I am as detached from it all as I can get...too detached but I am working on that. Anyways I thought it would be interesting to reevaluate and do a list:
10 Things I "Lost" From The Accident:
10. A certain fearlessness. The ability not to worry, not to think the worst is but inevitable.
9. A non-addiction to substances. The world's most lethal game of hide and seek.
8. Physical comfort and coverability of insurance. I am now and will always be a "pre-existing condition". Which is ironic because everyday I am in pain, when I sit too long it hurts. When I stand too long, it hurts. I am a visibly twisted goldilocks.
7. This # refers to #5 on the "gained" list. I lost faith in a few people.
6.A depressing sense of the purposelessness of it all.
5. Guiltlessness. Guilt when you see or hear stories about people who didn't make it or didn't walk away. Guilt at being idle or of feeling depressed. Guilt at seeming ungrateful.
4. The physical normalcy of my skin. Not that I was that upset about the scar, it could have been in a much worse place, but it is still not appealing to look at.
3.A sort of independence or self-sufficiency. Now I have to be careful all the time, I am breakable.
2. A physicality that no longer reflects my age. I am now physically years ahead of my actual age; I've lost any attachment I may have had to my physical body.
1. I've lost the ability to not have an "issue", a Trauma that still needs to be worked through. Like any traumatic event, its here to stay and confront on a daily basis.

10. Things I've "Gained" from the Accident.
10.A deeper understanding of my physical self and the thresholds of pleasure, pain and beauty. And my mortality.
9. A reconciliation of family. It was a sort of charity; they could all be in the same room with each other for the first time in 10 years without flinging insults. They could give to each other under the guise of giving to me.
8. A spiritual if not sentimental attachment to art. There are things you appreciate that exist in your head and the heads of others when you're bedridden for months.
7. As cheesy and cliche as this sounds and real appreciation for really small things. Things like walking, taking a shower, going to the bathroom alone, being alone but not lonely, sleeping on your back and going outside.
6. A sort of close, sacred, scared relationship with the divine. The sickening sometimes dead-on-ness of psychology and its predictable "stages". An acquired constant inner dialogue with G-d.
5. Finding out where your loyalty lies. Finding out where others loyalty lies.
4. A subsiding of "weight issues". I got down to skinny and skinny felt weak. I'll never desire to feel weak again.
3. A deeper sense of empathy. Being able to physically and emotionally feel someone's pain. Learning the difference between empathy and pity.
2. A confirmation of survival skills. The strength that is only activated when the pressure is abundant.
1. A deep desire to do something, anything, even the smallest thing worthwhile of a second chance.