Why do I like my scars?

I was speaking with a friend earlier today and she was checking on my SI status. I haven't done in it a while, I told her. Just once, last week. I mentioned that my first incident of SI (this time around) is scarring pretty badly. Funny, because I didn't even feel like it was as bad a cut as anything I've done since then but it turned out to be the worst of them all. Hmm....that thought in itself just gave me pause. Isn't that the case in real life, as well. Sometimes the things that seem the most benign are the things that scar the deepest. I know, for me, you would think the sexual abuse would be the worst. But it is not what hurts me the most. It is the rejection by my parents and their failure to protect. I should have been their most prized possession....and instead I was disregarded.

Anyhow....my friend suggested a scar reducing cream to me and I said that for some reason, I don't know why, I like my scars. Why do I like my scars? What do they represent for me? I think perhaps the same thing that the actual injury represents.....a visible sign of inner pain? Part of me feels it's a badge of strength that I was able to endure the pain.

Yet when my three year old daughter sees any of the marks on me, I want to hide them from her. I don't want her to see them. It breaks my heart when she asks to kiss my boo-boos. I guess I don't want to associate my greatest joy with my deepest pain? I don't want her to have to be anywhere near something so evil and destructive. Like it will somehow rub off on her? Or that she will remember it and think it's an acceptable way to deal with things because Mom did it?

The weirdest part about this post is that, as I type it, my scars are tingling and throbbing....they NEVER feel this way. I almost never feel them. Odd.