Revealing My Scars

I had a strange dream the other night. It was the kind where it follows me with odd da ja vue feelings for days. It begs to be taken apart, and analyzed. Some dreams are really just wisps of all that we accumulate during the day being let out in our subconscious at night while we sleep like an air release valve. They don't mean much at all. Then there are the kind that are a little more serious than that. When you recall bits, and pieces of these dreams there's emotion attached. It's not just the run of the mill dump dream. These types of dreams have a message to decipher, and usually a solution to a hidden issue you might have been avoiding.

In this particular dream I had found out from a doctor that I had cancer. I eventually ended up speaking to a doctor, and a team of scientists about my options for treatment. The doctor told me that I had three options. I could:

1. Choose to try to manage it with diet, and exercise, and hope it heals itself. The doctor said that this was not a recommended choice, because the cancer was very toxic, and would likely attach itself to other organs infecting other parts of my body with sickness.

2. I could choose to replace that part of my body with healthy skin. The new skin would heal the cancer, and the chances of full recovery were very optimal. The only drawback was that the skin had to come from my face. A fairly large portion of my face. The procedure was only offered in another country, so I would have to go there to get it. She explained to me that this was the best option with little chance for error.

3. I could choose chemotherapy, but the doctor noted that this option would be overkill. She didn't recommend it, because the chemo kills the healthy cells with the bad ones. I would endure pain, and sickness as well as possible permanent damage that would be irreversible.

I decided to go with the chemo. I said that would be the best option for me. It was the only one I could afford. The doctor again reminded me of her recommendations. She asked me why I could not do number two, since that was the best choice medically. I asked if the skin would scar, and she said it might. I broke down in tears explaining to her that I had a scaring disorder that makes my scars turn into bubbles, and look much worse than most people's scars. I also could never afford to go to another country. How could I choose number two when it would leave marks on my face that everyone will see?" I sobbed.


The dream ended before I had made my final decision. After considering all of the dream symbols I think this was done intentionally. I am fairly certain that due to the area in which I was infected with cancer it was representing my relationship with my mother. I wanted to tell her of my diagnosis, but I could never seem to reach her in the dream. When I finally did I think my whole family didn't really care, or seem to even listen. Cancer can stand for so many different things, but for me it is the most toxic, deadly disease one can get. It truly is unforgiving, and harsh. It was eating away at me, and if I let it go unchecked by trying to kill it with positivity it would likely only grow. This is very much like the situation I have with my mother. I already know that I cannot manage her. She will stomp over every boundary I lay down, and be as nasty as she ever was if I tried. The chemo would be my best option is what I thought in my dream. I could kill it all away, and be done, except it's never done. The abuse I endured follows me wherever I go, and affects me in hair trigger anxious ways all the time.

The only way to successfully deal with my past is to face it. Literally, in my dream, but figuratively in my life. To face it would mean healing up old wounds that I tend to hide away. The scars don't make me less of a person, as I feared in my dream they would. I couldn't face the shame I'd feel if others knew of it all. I would be afraid to be rejected if I shared my scars. When I refuse to share this pain, this grief a little bit more of me believes that I deserved to be treated the way I was. Every time I cower away from  what I know is true the lie gains more traction. I must go to that other country, ( unfamiliar place) and do what I need to to heal.

Truth is; my mother unfortunately had/has what I believe to be münchausen syndrome by proxy. For some reason this did not begin to happen until I was 15. Not that she was always a stellar mother before that, but the actual inducing of issues that did not exist didn't happen to my knowledge until my mid teens. This was such a terrible time of confusion, and pain in my life. I actually didn't begin to realize what she had done until  I was in my late 20's. I don't feel like it's necessary for me to go into all the details, but I want to choose healing now over hiding. It's been far too long that I carried around this weight of shame that isn't mine. It doesn't belong to me, and I didn't do anything wrong. I may not believe the last part just yet, but today I am one huge step closer to doing so.

Thank you for reading.