Everybody has realities they have to live with. Ours just happen to be more visible than others.
If something stressful happens I deal with it by asking two questions: a) is there anything I can do about it? and b) can I live with it? Then I think of my scars and of how I can't help them now but I am getting on with life perfectly well, and suddenly everything else seems petty and manageable. They remind me that it could be worse, and that I've survived worse.
Start small. One day I rolled up my sleeves to buy my bus ticket and nobody loved me any less than before. It felt outrageous and shocking and like an adrenaline rush, but only to me. I started exposing my scars when paying for stuff at tills, when the other person is too professional to mention it, or too tired to notice, or too tired to care. It gave me more confidence to screw worrying and enjoy the sun on my skin just because I still can. You might feel like a blinking beacon of crazy but no one else will see it like that. Strangers don't care, people who love you don't care. I still cover up at work and other times when it could be inappropriate, but that's a small price to pay.
I'm sure you will find the right perspective for yourself eventually. Life's too short, and don't we have the best reminder of that.
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