SCAR STORY CONTEST: How I Got the Big Scar That Lies Under My Dread Locks

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Quinn Eaker @quinneaker has often referred to me as stubborn. I don’t deny it. It’s a good thing, though. My stubbornness has kept me alive and evolving. When I was nine years old my daddy almost killed me, dropping a small boulder on me, pretending it was an accident. He wanted me gone. He wanted to murder his addiction, his self loathing and hatred. As you can plainly see, he failed. I’m living an awesome and exciting life and he is dead, eaten up with cancer. 

I was a nine year old little girl that day at Palo Duro Canyon. We were on a family weekend trip. My mother and three brothers were all there. At some point while driving through the canyon park area my dad pulled the car over to allow us kids to burn off some energy and play. My brothers, one a year older, one a year younger and one five years younger, ran to the canyon edge and began to ascend, climbing on rocks and sliding down sandy gravel mixed with desert plants. At first I felt apprehensive. The climb felt very steep. It was a long ways to the lake at the bottom. 

My brothers were so happy, having so much fun. I wanted to feel that too. My own ascent began while my parents stood at the canyon’s edge. My mother was obviously nervous. Belly toward the earth, I gingerly made my way down the rocks, plants and gravel. In my 9 year old mind I’m not sure exactly how far I went down into the lake bottomed mouth before I stopped and looked up. However long it was, however far it was, when I looked up and saw the spec of my father raising a big rock or small boulder over his head and peering right at me. My mother stood next to him, seriously worried. 

The last memory I had before I felt my father peel my rag doll body off the boulders was the sight of the big chunk of solid earth coming toward me. Many times, in the arms of my mother I was shaken to stay awake while my father drove the truck to find help for his bleeding to death, dying little girl. I wanted to sleep so badly. 

Archie Tobias, my biological father, had been raping me for years, as long as I can remember, actually. Wounds were cut deeply into my heart and soul. Obviously, Daddy had an addiction. Obviously, Daddy was tormented. Obviously, I represented all that disgusted him about himself. During my recovery and hospitalization from the 19 hour surgery of cleaning dirt, bone fragments and debris from the inside of my skull and the other long surgery to rebuild my skull, I was safe. He never raped me during my healing period, not even once. However, after my physical injuries healed fully, is another story. 

Today I am 2 weeks away from my 52nd birthday. I still carry not only the scar from the huge two handed rock, my heart and soul also bear the scars of the deep cuts since my early childhood. Occasionally I have people rub their hand across the scar on my head, under my hair to feel the bumps from the porcelain plate that still resides in my reconstructed skull. Sometimes, they jerk their hand back, creeped out.

Don’t worry about me, I might still carry the scars in my heart and soul, needing trauma in my life less and less. I forgive my father. I let it go. He’s dead, riddled with cancer and I get to dance in the Garden of Eden @gardenofeden under the full moon. I stubbornly swore to myself as a little girl I would not let the abuse fuck me up. Well, some things you just can’t help. Life has been a journey of healing all my wounds and allowing scars that life has given me to be celebrated. 

Stubbornness has been my companion to healing and evolving. I have been stubborn to my conviction that I am valuable and have worth. Quinn Eaker has allowed me into his world at the Garden of Eden and is putting me through the Master Training, cracking my head open, once again, but this time to see that I am truly loved and have great value. 

I don’t have to prove anything to anyone. All I have to do is “be”. This is a place of true healing. 

Infinitely grateful to my true family at The Garden of Eden. 

I love you guys!!! 

So grateful to be ALIVE and sharing it all with you. 

Ha ha, Daddy, you couldn’t kill me. Not a single part of me. 

I have layers of scars to prove I am a survivor, a warrior and on to being a winner!!