Not all scars are visible

I've been writing this blog post on and off for a long time.  It's taken a while as even writing it all down has a habit of sending me close to the edge of the depression pit I've worked so hard to pull myself out of. But, after a long time of getting halfway and then pressing 'delete', I've finally decided that putting it all (well, some of it at least) in writing is probably a better solution than bottling it up.  

When all of your face-to-face adult conversations are snatched in 5 minute blocks (if you're lucky), in softplay centres, children's birthday parties and at after school activity clubs, meaningful conversations are hard to come by, and rarely if ever happen.  

When you can't have a conversation on the phone or on Skype with friends and family that are far away, because you're never really on your own to do it.  When there's always a small pair of ears listening in, they don't happen.  Because, ultimately, we just want to protect our children and make them think that the world is generally a good place, even though we know it's not always the case.

For years, I put a smile on my face and, to most of the rest of the outside world, everything was fine.  I spoke to very few people about how I was really feeling, and the effect my day to day life was actually having on me.  Over time, I stopped even trying to tell people. 

The uncomfortable reality though, is that the bruises and that we acquire, that we carry silently with us throughout all of this, leave marks that will always be there.  Buried deep below the surface, still hidden from public view.  

The hardest part about carrying the invisible scars, is that no one else sees them, and because of that they don't exist. Except that they do.  And because, despite everything, no one wants to hear about them, let alone acknowledge their validity, they have a habit of resurfacing and shattering the fragile systems that we build for ourselves as coping mechanisms.  We become less trusting, more weary, more sceptical. 

There are times when I wish that the bruises had been visible, that the scars were there for everyone to see.  Because then, there'd be no question about how deep they are.  About how much they hurt and how difficult it is to pretend that they don’t exist.