Today marks 91 days, 13 weeks, and more than double my original goal. I actually have not cut in over THREE MONTHS! I have gone at least a month without burning, however I am not sure of the exact day count… and it isn’t all that important. My burns and cuts are all healed, completely.
I have decided I am going to start wearing shorts again, even if only in the privacy of my apartment. I haven’t worn shorts since the cutting got bad-bad nearly 8yrs ago. I wore them to bed sometimes, but my legs were one of the places I *aimed for first*. I am actually going to buy shorts to sleep in… and to exercise in. I know my scars are visible, but I know they are there — even when I wear pants — so why be uncomfortable? I honestly see no point! I started wearing capri’s out in public again just within the last few years and I feel confident in them, despite my scars showing. The scars on my legs are fading and I am glad.
My arms are still indescribeable. They look better because there isn’t anything new, but the scars are still hideous. I wish I didn’t have them, yet I am grateful for them. I know I would have killed myself had I not had self-injury to depend on. Self-injury isn’t something healthy to depend on, but I know it was one of my destructive behaviors that has helped preserve my life. I also know the prayers of others/ their belief in God and in me have also carried me through.
I constantly think about self-injury. I can’t stop thinking about it and the urges have been incredible this past week. Stressors at work, especially at work, have made me want to build a hill to jump off of. I haven’t given in and I wish I could report on healthier ways of coping, but I haven’t. I haven’t burned, but I have binged and purged and done plenty of negative self talk and oversleeping and neglecting my personal needs. I am still hurting myself, even if not so VISIBLY. Self-injury is part of my daily life.
I am, however, dreaming of life without this dreadful coping mechanism. Today at work, I found myself talking outloud about having corrective surgery for my scars. I didn’t say it directly, but I knew what I was talking about, and it surprised me. I am attached to my scars, yet I would also love to just have one huge scar going up my arms sometimes. I don’t know if I have enough viable skin left on my arms, or anywhere else really, that could be used without making the current situation look worse. I also do not want to mimic a burn survivor because my scars are self-inflicted. Yes, I do want to be without my scars — yet I don’t want to be without my scars. I see both sides of this blade.
I need to start focusing on other ways I am hurting myself now that my cutting and burning are finally under a bit more control. I need to start treating myself as valuable, but I don’t believe it — I don’t know how to internalize self worth and self value. I hurt myself in ways I didn’t know could be considered versions of self-injury, but the light blub is going off and I now know I am doing many unhealthy things to myself.
I deserve better. I deserve better. I deserve better.
