The measure of this woman

I have been told too many times to even begin to count how pretty, beautiful, attractive, and whatever other adjective you want to add, I am. Seems that others always see something in us that, we, ourselves do not. You see, when I look in the mirror, I see bruises, scratches, scrapes, swollen eyes and a fractured face, I see pain. It's difficult to believe that anyone can't see what I do, because I walk around with these outward scars, although the internal ones run much deeper, everyday. Make-up has become my best friend, she keeps my stories secret, she doesn't spill out my hurt, she helps hide it. They say the best way to rid your pain is to tell your story, I have, numerous times. I have spoken to battered women, to teenage girls and boys, to people who had never dealt with abuse at all. 
I don't like that I have stories to tell, yes stories, plural, because there are many, committed by the hands of someone I loved and thought loved me. There are times I believe all the lies he told me, that I am stupid, that I am difficult to love, hard to please, a bitch....the best one, I deserve what happen to me, what he did to me, the abuse. If you asked me how do I describe myself, how do I measure my worth....I can't completely answer that question. Its not the adjectives other people use. I measure myself not by what I look like but how I have survived, how I have lived. I have wonderful children, a nice house, people in my life that support and nurture me. I wake up grateful to take another breath, to be able to enjoy the day ahead and see the faces of those who love me without condition. I don't always wake up feeling "wonderful", I still have days when it's almost unbearable to get out of bed, but there are people depending on me. 
I thank those who have given compliments, whether sincere or not, I appreciate your kindness, my looks don't measure me or make me. 
My beauty faded with fists. 
The measure of this woman, the value of me, my worth....that is not complete, I'm not finished with this life, but in the end I want people to say "She was a great mom", "She is an awesome friend", "you could count on her"....not she was beautiful.