Kintsugi

I’ve been reflecting on the concept of Kintsugi recently, and I’ve been meditating on viewing my scars as something valuable and beautiful. 

Each invisible wound I endured from a young age has always haunted me. My classmates would tease me about my weight, call me the ugly girl with dirty dishwater hair, or give me humiliating nick names like Mrs. Piggy, fatty and telling others to have pity on me because I was poor or didn’t have a father. These insults left cracks deep in my soul. My ego built defenses with anger, and with each year of torment my scars only grew deeper. 

Abuse from family members did not help, either. My stepfather kept up the insults calling me a fat pig and forcing me to eat as much as I could and engaged in making pig noises as I ate. I tried to have fun in this abuse but the reality of it was that I learned how to mask the pain with humor and joy. The scars then grew and my ego turned food into an escape from the pain. 

As I grew older, I worked diligently on these scars, the abandonment from my father and then the mental and emotional abuse when I found him and went to live with him. The feelings of neglect from my mother, the destruction of being pitied instead of being shown compassion. It has taken and will take many years to address all the scars on my heart.

Slowly, I have begun to transform these invisible scars—letting go of the rusted red and bleeding pain and repairing them with a golden dust of compassion. I am embracing each wound as a symbol of my strength and resilience, rather than shame and humiliation. Each scar is a part of my story and proof of my survival. Much like the art of Kintsugi, where broken pottery is repaired with gold, my scars are no longer painful marks I hide; they are now golden cracks of healing. 

~Candice Carver