Afraid to Be Seen
How I stopped letting my scars make decisions for me
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I write about grit, leadership, and navigating adversity, drawing from my experience in the Marines, elite athletics, and business.
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Now let’s dive into this week’s Nugent Note.
I wasn’t afraid of my disability. I was afraid of your eyes on it.
The stares, the questions, and the judgments were the things I tried to avoid.
A year after my injury I was standing in an elevator wearing shorts. Then, all of a sudden, a raucous crew in their early twenties barged in. One of them looked me in the eye and asked me point blank what happened to my leg.
They meant no harm, likely just curious. But that’s not how it felt. It felt as if I was being called out and forced to share the story of the scariest moment of my life. I didn’t know how to nor want to answer such a question. Especially on a 30 second elevator ride. So I told them it was an old sports injury. They didn’t pry further.
I mean, it’s not everyday you tell a stranger you got shot.
That wasn’t the only time. Another time I was waiting in line for a coffee when a little kid, probably five years old comes up to me.
He looks at me, looks at my leg, looks back at me and then asks: “Hey mister, what happened to your leg?”
I jokingly responded that I got in a fight with Superman and lost. His eyes lit up and then his mother said so sorry to bother. I said that’s alright, I know he meant no harm, again, likely just curious. I’d be curious as well.
When I wear pants, you don't even notice. Many people have no idea. And for a long time, I wanted it that way. Hiding felt easier than explaining.
But when the weather got warmer, like it is now, it became a challenging time. In the past I’d choose pants over shorts. I’d turn down invitations to go to the beach or the pool because I knew what that would entail. I’d be in a public, vulnerable space, likely forced to relive the day everything changed. I was afraid, so I hid that part of myself.
I hid because it felt safer. But I also knew deep down that I felt as if I was erasing part of myself.
So what changed?
A couple summers ago I turned down another pool invite. And I finally asked myself: How long am I going to let my scars make decisions for me?
Nothing drastic after that. I slowly began viewing my disability as an opportunity to welcome conversation and share my story. In a way that felt genuine and authentic. I was done hiding.
In doing so something strange happened. It allowed me to finally be my true authentic self. Something it turns out that people admire and respect. I became someone no longer afraid to show their scars or injuries. Someone who could provide hope, inspiration, and perspective. One conversation at a time.
Maybe your version isn’t a disability. Maybe it’s a scar, a story, a failure, a fear, or some part of yourself you’ve been keeping out of view.
You can’t grow if you don’t embrace discomfort. Sometimes that discomfort is you no longer hiding.
I used to hide my disability. Now I share it.
Not because it’s easy. Because hiding was harder. That’s my way of Finding A Way.
My question to you:
What’s something you’ve stopped hiding?
—Patrick D. Nugent
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