If you look at my face, I have a
faint scar that crosses my forehead. It
doesn’t look like much, just a simple scar that goes across the right side of
my forehead and then disappears along my brow-line. The only hint as to the severity of the scar
happens when I raise my eyebrows; my right eyebrow just doesn’t lift as high as
the left one.
I got the scar on my forehead in an
accident. I was hit by an elderly driver
while walking to work. My head shattered
the windshield and as a result, the flap of skin above my right eye was peeled
down to the bone. Thanks to the work of
an excellent plastic surgeon, this injury looks like nothing more than an
innocuous scar, one that merits only a passing notice, if at all. For me, the only memory of this injury is the
scar and the perpetual numbness of that area.
I am twenty-eight years old. I have been out of the Mormon Church for
twelve years. Most of the time, when I
am going about my daily life, I don’t really think about the past much. Time is the ultimate healer and for me, it
has healed a lot. Growing up Mormon is a
hard burden to bear – I spent my childhood and teenage years feeling
insufficient and fearing my doubts. The process
of leaving Mormonism, given the misconceptions surrounding people who leave, is
also a hard burden to bear. The
experience has left its own kind of scar, one that is not visible.
I could get surgery to fix the scar
on my forehead. There isn’t much that
can be done about the nerve damage but I could have the scar lightened, even
removed. But every time I think about
the options, I find myself hesitating.
The truth is, scars are often a reminder of what we have survived. I survived getting hit by a car. I survived Mormonism. And so I will wear these marks as a reminder
of what I have survived.
