Diamonds Are Made Under Pressure, But I’m Not a Diamond, Am I?

A gift of vulnerability, while I challenge the romanticization of trauma.

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We are both a little scarred — me and the mirror. I think of the battles that left these scars. I won some, lost others, and might have barely escaped a few. Even though a number of my battles should have never been mine in the first place.

As I look at a scar I see no shifting lights, I feel no cold sturdiness, it seems I am not measured by carats. Yet, a diamond is used as an excuse for my hardship? “Diamonds are made under pressure” — a metaphor telling me it was worth it.

But hardship does not work the same way — my trauma didn’t make me stronger, my pain didn’t make me grow, and my loss was no teacher. I did that all alone. The possibility of progress should never excuse or even cause suffering.

I feel a little proud that I’m still here. But that pride has companionship. It comes with a few but’s, it comes with a few tears, it comes with some hidden want’s and need’s mostly in the past tense.

I am proud of myself, yet I grieve. My trauma made me who I am today leaves a bitter aftertaste. Who I am today is not someone I would like to be. I realize trauma didn’t give me anything, it just took. Self-pity is bad, I need to be grateful for what I do have, I need to stop feeling bad for myself, it’s not productive… Diamonds are made under pressure… Stop.

I won’t deny myself to feel my human feelings because I’m too busy lying I’m a diamond.