Takes one to know one...
This part of me is very difficult to write about. It comes to me when the depth of my sorrow, the enormities of who I can be beats me down and I can no longer bear it.
This part of me is not acceptable, not an appropriate way of handling life, and by no means do I condone it. I have to say it has been over a year since it has happened to me, and I am glad for that.
During the Sleepover there was a young girl in with me. She was not allowed to leave daily like I was. She was pretty but wore her hair stringy and her clothes baggy and large. She was terrible thin, and when she came into the TV room where I was, the large yellow shirt only enhance how ugly she was trying to make herself. Her main reason for staying was for anorexia, one of several girls that were there for that.
She stood beside me while I kind of watched TV.
"Your a cutter too."
I looked up and saw she was speaking to me. The t-shirt I was wearing didn't cover my arms entirely and the self-inflicted cuts that I had made on my arms were visible. In the psychward there wasn't much need to hide who you were.
Her shirt was a v-neck and all over her chest I could see cuts much deeper than I had done on myself. They were many. She lifted her her shirt some and I could see that they were all over her abdomen and arms. She said they were all over her legs as well.
"Yes I am."
It seems to be a gift that we as humans have to pick out those who are like us. My gay friends say they can pick out other homosexuals. Racists and pedophiles seems to find each other in droves. I can pick out another crazy person at a hundred yards.
We spoke for a bit and she told me she had been raped. We didn't talk about the details much. I don't know if she was telling the truth or not. Sometimes at the Sleepover the truth of how we ended up in there became blurred. What was 100 percent true was she was having a very difficult time.
"They don't get it do they?"
"No they don't", I replied.
Most think that we do it for attention, that we hurt ourselves so that others will feel sorry for us. For the most part, at least for my part this is completely not true. I have hurt myself in private and my husband has never known. Sometimes he has not found out until I am nearly healed.
What is does for me is help tame the demons in my mind that are telling me to put the knife to my wrists instead of at the soft skin of my arms. When the abyss has no bottom, the cutting causes a physical pain that shocks and then takes away from the emotional pain. The emotional pain is far worse, the physical has an analgesic effect. The result lasts for a couple of days. When I dress and my clothing rubs against it or someone in my family touches it, it reminds me that there is another pain besides the one that usually controls me.
I have chose to become healthy so I have chosen not to do this anymore. I have taken the weapon that I have hidden in my room and thrown it away. There have been times that I have wanted to, but I simply cannot allow myself to do it. I have little girls that I need to be an example to, and by no means can I allow this to be an acceptable practice for them. They rely on me to be healthy, and I am doing my best to be the best mom that I can for them. I don't want to be that mom, the mom that hurts herself anymore. I do not want to lie to them, to tell them it was our cat that scratched me.
So I am taking this year of not cutting as a positive milestone. I want to me normal so badly.
This part of me is not acceptable, not an appropriate way of handling life, and by no means do I condone it. I have to say it has been over a year since it has happened to me, and I am glad for that.
During the Sleepover there was a young girl in with me. She was not allowed to leave daily like I was. She was pretty but wore her hair stringy and her clothes baggy and large. She was terrible thin, and when she came into the TV room where I was, the large yellow shirt only enhance how ugly she was trying to make herself. Her main reason for staying was for anorexia, one of several girls that were there for that.
She stood beside me while I kind of watched TV.
"Your a cutter too."
I looked up and saw she was speaking to me. The t-shirt I was wearing didn't cover my arms entirely and the self-inflicted cuts that I had made on my arms were visible. In the psychward there wasn't much need to hide who you were.
Her shirt was a v-neck and all over her chest I could see cuts much deeper than I had done on myself. They were many. She lifted her her shirt some and I could see that they were all over her abdomen and arms. She said they were all over her legs as well.
"Yes I am."
It seems to be a gift that we as humans have to pick out those who are like us. My gay friends say they can pick out other homosexuals. Racists and pedophiles seems to find each other in droves. I can pick out another crazy person at a hundred yards.
We spoke for a bit and she told me she had been raped. We didn't talk about the details much. I don't know if she was telling the truth or not. Sometimes at the Sleepover the truth of how we ended up in there became blurred. What was 100 percent true was she was having a very difficult time.
"They don't get it do they?"
"No they don't", I replied.
Most think that we do it for attention, that we hurt ourselves so that others will feel sorry for us. For the most part, at least for my part this is completely not true. I have hurt myself in private and my husband has never known. Sometimes he has not found out until I am nearly healed.
What is does for me is help tame the demons in my mind that are telling me to put the knife to my wrists instead of at the soft skin of my arms. When the abyss has no bottom, the cutting causes a physical pain that shocks and then takes away from the emotional pain. The emotional pain is far worse, the physical has an analgesic effect. The result lasts for a couple of days. When I dress and my clothing rubs against it or someone in my family touches it, it reminds me that there is another pain besides the one that usually controls me.
I have chose to become healthy so I have chosen not to do this anymore. I have taken the weapon that I have hidden in my room and thrown it away. There have been times that I have wanted to, but I simply cannot allow myself to do it. I have little girls that I need to be an example to, and by no means can I allow this to be an acceptable practice for them. They rely on me to be healthy, and I am doing my best to be the best mom that I can for them. I don't want to be that mom, the mom that hurts herself anymore. I do not want to lie to them, to tell them it was our cat that scratched me.
So I am taking this year of not cutting as a positive milestone. I want to me normal so badly.
posted by TIffany at 5:34 PM
3 Comments:
you can pick out another crazy person at a hundred yards? hmmmm... you missed me! (you're not crazy by the way... i'd tell you if you were... you know that!) Everyone has their "thing". (If anyone's crazy, its me ..... your husband probably let you know a while back that i'm nuts)
how do you know I missed you? :)
Yep, he's nuts and so am I. I don't think you are... but theen you did marry me.
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