The Beauty in Brokenness: Why Your Scars Make You Worthy

Want more posts like this in your life? Join the Tiny Buddha list for daily or weekly insights.

“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” ~Rumi

On July 2, 2009, my life shattered with three words: “He is gone.”

I thought my friend meant my love was away on a camping trip, but no. She meant he was gone, as in forever.

My stomach knotted and my breath stopped. My body was reacting to the gravity of the truth before my mind could fully process it. The man I loved more than life itself never came back from his camping trip, and in many ways, neither did I.

My heart broke in a million pieces in a moment, and I’ve spent the last fifteen years devoted to picking myself up and putting the parts of my heart back together.

I’d studied holistic medicine, psychology, and human services, and I thought knowledge would shield me from trauma. It didn’t. For fifteen years I lived with chronic PTSD that no textbook could prepare me for.

It wasn’t until I became pregnant with my daughter that I finally took the steps to get well and become whole so I could be the mother to her that I never had. I finally had another light in my life worth fighting for.

Even as I had something new to live for, the question lingered in the back of my mind, “Who would I have been if I hadn’t been broken first?” Had the trauma already stolen too much for me to start over?

As I rebuilt my life, I couldn’t help but wonder who I would have been without that trauma. I saw other women in their twenties and thought they had their whole life ahead of them. Although I was in my thirties, I felt like I had already lost my chance, that my past had set me too far back, that I was damaged beyond repair.

How could I ever help others when I’m still not over my loss, still locked in anxiety and depression, and still learning to deal with a broken heart? How can I help others when deep inside my heart still hurts?

It took a while, but I finally learned helping and being of service to others does not require perfection, 100% joy, or a scar-free past. It requires the courage to be authentic in each moment and to know that even when we feel broken, we still have worth.

Behind the stacks of undone to-do lists, the unfolded laundry, the clutter in my car, the overdraft fees, and the wrinkled clothes, I still had value. I was able to derive that value when I allowed myself to be vulnerable and to show the parts of myself that weren’t polished, that didn’t have the answers, and that were still stuck in confusion and still holding out faith for the healing process.

I began to wonder if maybe my imperfections and struggles weren’t detours at all but part of the path itself. Were the things I once perceived to be roadblocks and detours actually crucial lessons I needed for my path and my grand purpose?

Had it not been for the loss, the trauma, and the struggle, would I have been inclined to do the inner work? It is neither here nor there at this phase of the journey, but now I am on the other side of this healing process, and I see that no matter what we go through in life, it’s how we deal with it that makes the difference.

By not having something to consciously fight for and work for, I was unconsciously letting myself decay inside by not continuing to grow and heal. I was on shutdown mode for so long because I couldn’t process the magnitude of the life experiences I was going through.

Through conscious somatic breathwork, bodywork, yoga, and Ayurvedic restorative practices, I learned how to nurture and process the “broken,” vulnerable, healing parts. Rather than being sources of continual discomfort, shame, and secretiveness, they transformed into strength, wisdom, and parts that could connect deeper with others. Slowly, my pain stopped being something I carried and started becoming something I could transform.

I once believed “he is gone” meant my own life was over too. Now I see that loss, scars, and struggle don’t erase our value; they help to reveal it. What matters is not what leaves us but how we choose to rise with what remains.

My life forever changed, and the version of what I thought things were supposed to be and who I was supposed to be has shifted, but I have learned to take each experience and process it to take the good and release what no longer serves me.

I spent years believing my scars made me unworthy of helping others. Now I see that they are the very reason I can. We don’t lose our value in the pains that make us feel broken; we actually increase it when we find a way to keep moving forward even when life gets messy.

So ask yourself, are you hiding scars or letting them light the way for someone else? The very thing you are hiding may be the thing that helps someone else feel seen and able to move past their secret pain.