Everyone has them. Some may have been accidents but other scars, well they’re created for a purpose. No matter the cause, they each hold their own story and each one is valid, like the time that you weren’t paying attention and you grabbed a hot pan without thinking, or when you felt like you were so alone in the world and had no other answers for yourself but to mark up your own skin.
Each scar has a story, but you see, the stories of accidents, or the times you just weren’t thinking, they’re more easily told then those of cut wrists, and those scars we hold inside. The accidents, well they’re something that everyone experiences, something that could happen to anyone. Now the ones that are self inflected, they hold a much deeper story, one that isn’t so easily shared, because no one can understand ones own motives for harming themselves, they don’t see any reason for it, so to try and tell someone about the reason for the marked up legs, wrists, or whatever it may be, isn’t something that anyone really wants to talk about. But here’s my story:
I think it all started around last October when I lost my papa to brain cancer. Since my family was so close, it’s hard to lose anyone, he was the first of my grandparents to go and he was an amazing grandpa. I always used to say, when I died, I would need a boyfriend because I wouldn’t be able to handle it on my own. Turns out I did have a boyfriend at the time, one of 1.5 years, but I guess that doesn’t really mean much because we were kind of a mess. Anyways, In that time that I needed him, it didn’t really feel like he was there. I was get upset thinking about my papa and he would just let me be, if I wanted to he held I’d have to go to him, and his only response to anything in that time was “you’ll be okay”. Because of losing my papa, and my boyfriend at the time not seeming to be there for me, I felt super distant from him, and starting trying to figure what we even had if he wasn’t even there for me in the hard times. I fell in a deep hole and I couldn’t seem to get out. So at that time, I didn’t what I had thought about doing for a while, I took a razer blade to my skin. It felt good, I felt like I was in control, it helped to calm me in a weird way. I did it a few more times after that, and told my boyfriend but he didn’t say much. I stoped for a while, until a reached another low point where I felt alone, like I didn’t know what my relationship was anymore, and I had always hated myself, and everything always tends to pile up all into one like that so I cut again. This time carving “I hate myself” onto my upper left thigh. And again, it made me feel so much better, and as long as the cuts hurt to the touch until they healed, I felt good. And Then I would do it again.
This time, it wasn’t long after that me and my boyfriend were going to a party, they had a hot tub there so I was looking for a baithing suit, then remember my scars, I said I can’t wear one. His response was “well that’s your fault”.
As if he though that was something I needed to hear, as if I didn’t already know I did it to myself. I ran upstairs away from him because I didn’t know what to say, and I’m hopes that he might follow me. When he finally came up I told him that I knew I did it to myself, but I didn’t need to here that from him. And again, his response, “well it’s true”. Let’s just say the rest of that night was a mess. That was also the night his new girlfriend apparently started liking him, but that’s a whole other story.
Now to the present. I haven’t cut since that last time. If I’m being honest I almost did the other day, and I almost did so many times after the breakup, and if you’ve been here for a while, you probably know why. But looking back on it now, part of the reason I cut was because I felt alone, hurt, or stressed, but the other part I think was to try and get his attention. That if I hurt myself he would see the way I needed him, and he would be there for me. But that wasn’t how it happened at all. But again, knowing what I know know, he was never really there in the first place.
There a part of me that wishes I never would have done it, but it’s just like any other thing, it makes you grow, it changes you, and teaches you things. Now I’m not really sure of my intentions for telling my story, part of it is just to put it out there, because I share everything in here and I want to be able to look back one day and see my whole life on here, and the other part, is to let you guys know I’m here for you. I know I only cut a few times, and that’s nothing compared to other people, but even cutting once is too much. So I’m here for you, any of you, for any reason at all. I’m a good listener. You don’t have to suffer through things alone, just talk to someone, even if it’s a stranger on the internet.
You are amazing and you deserve to be happy, to love your life and love yourself. No matter what’s going on in your life or what you’re struggling with, even if it seems so small, if it matters to you, it’s relevant and should be talked about. Don’t suffer in silence.
