You know that feeling of resistance, the but-I’ve-already-tried-a-million-other-things-so-keep-your-advice-to-yourself feeling? I get it pretty regularly, whether it’s about Baby Bear’s remaining sleep issues (O.M.G. when will it end???) or about my lingering health issues or, as it was a couple of weeks ago, about my scar.
I always have this feeling when people tell me what I should do about my scar. It’s big and bulgy and very visible—almost impossible to cover with anything but a scarf or a turtleneck. And until a couple of years ago, it was also fiery red and painful. I’ve had it for *gulp* 12 years. (How is that even possible?)
Actually, I’ve had this exact scar, the product of my plastic surgery scar revision—which looks exactly like the first one did (yay)—for 10 years. The first scar was the shocking product of my sterno-clavicular joint reconstruction, one of the rarest orthopedic surgeries to fix one of the weirdest problems you’ll ever run across.
(These photos from 2006 & 2007 show my scar 2 years post-surgical revision, post-Mederma [the first time], post-vitamin E oil, post-steroid injections, post-silicon sheets, blah blah blah. It did, however, later improve in color and pain with homeopathy and cosmetic suction treatments.)
Let me tell you, people LOVE to talk to me about my scar. Now that the color has died down, I’ll admit it’s better. The Wal-Mart greeters don’t stop me on my way into the store anymore, and I only occasionally catch waiters staring at it (hey, they were totally looking at my scar) before telling me to rub vitamin E oil on it. Fewer people ask me if I’ve had cancer. But that was my life for 10 years.
So, when the dermatologist, whom I took my son to see for a weird changing mole-y thing on his chest, told me I should try Mederma (again), I had that feeling. Again.
You know the really terrible thing about that feeling? It’s not the feeling itself. Feelings happen. I can deal with them.
It’s when it turns into an attitude and I make choices based on it . . . that don’t even feel like choices. It just seems like “duh,” except it’s not “duh” at all. Is it really “duh” that since I’ve tried Mederma before it couldn’t possibly work if I used it for 6-8 months this time instead of just the 3 months I gave it before?
Now, I know that there are times when it’s NOT time to try something new for a problem. We all have times like that. The important thing is to make that judgment call when I’m living in reality, being all friendly-like with the real facts and the real limitations—not unconsciously holding onto what should have been (the surgery shouldn’t have caused the scar, my previous efforts to heal it should have worked, I shouldn’t have had the orthopedic problem in the first place; the whole thing is JUST SO UNFAIR) and what others should do (aka, not bring attention to my obvious physical flaws or remind me of my past failures to fix them, thankyouverymuch).
Is the new option in front of me worth the time/money/energy? Maybe. I get the best answer to that question when I look objectively at my limitations of money, ability, time, and health. A mentor calls this “doing the MATH.” Clever right? Sometimes the MATH legitimately says, “No way can we go out of state for a $4,000 treatment right now!”
Photo source: morgueFile
Then again, sometimes it says, “A $30 tube of Mederma applied 3 times a day? Yeah, we can probably handle that. Small risk. Big potential reward.”
Then I have to admit that my reasons for whining, “Nooooo, not agaaaaain! I’ve already tried eeeveeeryyyythiiiing. The scar is just something I have to liiiiiive wiiiiith, so go awaaaaay and leeeeave me in my miiiiiseryyyy and let me haaaate the woooooorld!!!!.” have nothing to do with real limitations and everything to do with imagined ones.
After all, my pride takes a terrible beating every time I try something that doesn’t work. I don’t like feeling powerless. It’s easier to say “It can’t work” or “I don’t care anymore” or “this is my portion from God” than to face the possibility of non-omnipotence.
Not that I have to feel powerless in those situations; there’s plenty of opportunity for rejoicing in my effort and in what I’ve learned along the way, but well, I’m still growing out of the I-hate-not-being-superhuman shtick.
Fortunately, however slowly, I am growing out of it, so last week I swallowed my pride and added Mederma to my Amazon monthly autoship. I’ll give it 6 months.
Am I skeptical? Absolutely. I have, after all, tried 101 things that didn’t work. Why would this one? Then again, why wouldn’t it? The dermatologist has seen it work for lots of other people. Maybe, just maybe, it’ll work for me.
I can handle the financial risk and the time expenditure. I definitely have the ability and health to put it on my scar daily. If I practice mindfulness and gratitude, I can even manage the emotional toll.
I’m sure to gain something from the experiment, so long as I am willing to accept a variety of outcomes.
I got my first tube in the mail yesterday, and my first application is tonight. Wish me endurance!
***
What attitudes stand in the way of your healing?