I’d Been Ashamed of the Birthmark on My Forehead Since Childhood – 25 Years Later, It Changed My Life

A few days before my surgery, the clinic called to confirm my appointment. I stood in front of the mirror after I hung up, my hair pulled back the way it had been the day everything changed.

The birthmark I’d spent my life trying to erase wasn’t a flaw I needed to fix, or the worst thing that had ever happened to me.

It was proof that I had been carried, remembered, and wanted, even through confusion and fear and mistakes that weren’t mine to own.

I called the clinic back an hour later and canceled the appointment.

The receptionist sounded confused.

“Are you sure? We have a cancellation policy.”

“I’m sure,” I said.

I didn’t walk away from all of this with everything figured out.

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