<aside>
Because fascia is a love language. I think scar tissue is fascinating as fuck. It’s the body’s way of stabilizing a wound—its own internal suture spell. And while that response is often wise, when scar tissue isn’t tended to with intention, it can limit fluidity, sensation, and expression.
Physical scars delight me because they’re visible symbols of survival. They whisper tales of the body’s steadfast guardianship. They also mirror the psychic and emotional scars we carry: the ones no one sees, but which shape how we move through the world.
We all have a treasury of coping mechanisms: the artful dance of dissociation, the soft cocoon of distraction. These are beautiful. But even the most loyal protectors can grow clingy, becoming overeager bodyguards that limit movement and numb sensation.
Hysterectomy scars aren’t just surface stories. They reach deep into layers of fascia, connective tissue, and internal organs. These internal scars are more likely to form adhesions: fibrous bands that tether organs to each other or to surrounding structures, sometimes leading to discomfort, tension, or loss of mobility.
Scar care for hysterectomy recovery isn’t just about the skin, it’s about the invisible architecture within. Through breath, gentle touch, and intentional movement, we make space for softness, sensation, and a return to inner fluidity.
</aside>
<aside>
</aside>
<aside>
</aside>
<aside>
</aside>
<aside>
</aside>
<aside>
</aside>
<aside>
</aside>
<aside>
</aside>
<aside>
</aside>
<aside>
</aside>
<aside>
</aside>
<aside>
</aside>
<aside>
</aside>
Offering with love by Ro Rose @QueerlyFluid