Everyday I see these reminders of what I have done to myself. I didn’t think this post would be so difficult to write but its proving otherwise.
Never in my wildest nightmares did I ever think I would cut myself. To me, cutting was something people in utter distress did to themselves, not me who just had a few problems or so I thought. I was in utter distress and for whatever reason it felt like a release. The pain is not just in your head and your heart; it becomes real. Please, you cry, see! Its not in my head, its there for you to see in front of you. This is my pain.
The scar on the inside of my left wrist is from a piece of florist wire that I managed to get hold of in a secure ward and unsupervised I curled in a corner to take the pain away of my husband leaving me without a goodbye that night, the neglect, the abandonment. It did not feel real and it wasn’t until later I ‘woke up’ to what I had done and I was sickened. I can hide this scar under a watch, a bangle, a cuff. Its easier to explain away as a minor surgery or some such story and it has faded considerably in the last year.
The scar on the top of my right hand is not so easy to explain away and it is right in front of me all of the time as I am right handed. As I sat in the waiting room of the hospital with my Dad, I quietly scratched away at it with my finger nails. The conscious part of my mind pointed out that it would scar and I’d have to live with it for the rest of my life. I simply did not care at that point. The next week I was paying for a coffee and the lady saw it and exclaimed that it looked like I had had a fight with a lion. Dad told me I had.
So why am I sharing this with you? This is part of who I am now. As much as I can talk about my scars like this, there is still alot of forgiving and accepting I need to do. The one good thing is that when I see them I remember what it was like to be in that darkness and I know that I am now a long way from there.
This is still a daily fight but I’m on the winning side right now.