I work in customer service at a grocery store. I do multiple jobs including running a register multiple times a day. Yesterday was a steady day I guess. It started out great. I was asked to give a cashier a break and so I took over for her. I run a couple customers through and then we got pretty slow. I started cleaning off the register when a groucy old couple comes to my line and begins unloading their cart. I can feel the stares. I usually wear some type of sleeves, but it got really hot about 30 minutes before then and I took off my jacket. I can feel this ladys eyes digging into my skin as I scan her items. She keeps turning and whispering to the man with her and looking back at me. I had already said hello and asked how her day was but she ignored me. She still continues to stare at my arms. Eventually she is done unloading her cart and her and the man come towards the counter and she continues to stare harder at my arm. Then, she speaks. "Umm, dont you think that is a little inappropriate? Those large, puffy scars can give someone the wrong picture and can set a bad example for children who come here. Your the reason 11 year olds cut themselves. They come to public places such as a grocery store and see people like you who flaunt it like its the new fashion. You must need some special attention since you dont have the decency to cover those." I LOST IT. I instantly shut my mouth and quickly ran their money and closed my line. I had to go to my car and cry because I couldnt cry in front of my coworkers. People are so quick to judge, but dont care to know how I got to this point. I am a victim of rape from a family member at the age of 9. Then, it continued to multiple rapes from both sexes as I grew older. I was in and out of mental hospitals from suicide attempts. I dont remember most of my attempts and one I came so close to dying that the people who cut the rope off my neck were screaming in tears. I was in human trafficking from age 11 to 14. Raped, beaten and drugged multiple time a day. I was in foster care from ages 14 to 18 and was beaten multiple times while in foster care. I lived in houses infested in fleas and bed bugs and had to sleep on the floor in wet clothes because my foster mother refused to let us dry our clothes. I began cutting when I was 11. I was locked in a treatment facility for a year and a half to try to help me. I had to be restrained multiple times a day because I tried to harm myself. NOT ONCE in my whole life did I hurt another person or try to tear another person down. I stayed in school, got a job, got good grades, went to therapy, GRADUATED! I bought a car, and I pay all my own bills! I try so hard to cover my scars, because I know they arent pretty. But, until you know how and why they got there, YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO JUDGE! I guarentee that woman would not have said a word if the scars werent on my arm, but were a long scar down my chest. Why do we judge our battle wounds by what they look like or where they are located. Am I supposed to hide for the rest of my life? Live in long sleeves because I had a horrible past and the only thing I ever felt loved by was a razor? Why am I the cause of 11 year old cutting. Not once when I was 11 years old and considered cutting was it because of a cashier at the grocery store who had scars. It was because of the cruel world surrounding me. Because of old ladys at the grocery store who put people down and insist they will never amount to anything because of how they look. Do we tell people who are victims of fire burns to cover their scars because they are inappropriate? NO! Scars are a sign of healing. That whatever tried to hurt you wasnt strong enough. That you survived the wound! I came from a horrible background. I grew up thinking I was born to be raped and beat my whole life and to commit suicide was the only way out. How about instead of judging the victim, we go and coach the 11 year old kids that they dont need to cut themselves because they are loved. A person who feels loved and appreciated has no need to look for other coping mechanisims. The only reason I am still alive today is because I began self-harming. That is where I felt loved, felt safe. My scars arent a sign of defeat or a way to gain attention, my scars are proof that I survived. I cant just wish them away or pretend they arent there. But, if we coach the younger children to not judge a person because of a scar or pick on people who are different or to know the signs of abuse and to love and care for people, the amount of cashiers in grocery stores with scars on their arms will decrease. You dont have to say anything, just show that you care. If 8 years ago someone had told me they loved me, or were there for me, I would not have sat in my car and cried that day. Teach love, not hate. Love goes a lot farther. My scars dont define who I am as a person. 

Look Up.