On Self Harm

[Content Note: Self harm, scars]

When I first found self harm it wasn’t through hearing about it on the internet or knowing anyone who did it, I found it by myself. I was upset so I slashed my fingertips and made everything feel sandy. There is a lot of talk about how the internet has helped spread self-harming behaviour. It may not help matters but there have always been people who found it through sheer desperation.

Yes, at times I tried to kill myself. Self-harm, though, was about keeping myself alive.

A few months later I started to hurt myself regularly. My body carries my scars from this: mostly on my arm but also my hips, legs, feet and other places. Why did I do this? I wasn’t trying to get attention. Mostly I hurt myself in places other people couldn’t see because I didn’t want anyone to know.

Emotions can be tough.

I guess I started self harming at a time in my life where I was desperate to feel something other than the crushing blackness of my life. It’s difficult feeling so much pain and not being able to locate it. Physical illnesses are obviously bad but often you know where the pain is coming from. It’s confusing.

Adults that found out about my self harm didn’t know what to do. I was told to “just stop”. It was never something I wanted to do to survive. It was sort of addictive, but when you find some relief in your life of course you will want more.

I express myself better now. There are still urges that tell me the best way to deal with the pain is to take it out on myself. I get intrusive thoughts of wanting to stab myself. It can get very loud in my head. Although I have seen many medical professionals, I count stopping self-harming to be an achievement achieved by me alone. And it’s not easy. If you can’t get out of the cycle don’t blame yourself. It’s freaking hard. Don’t let anyone ever tell you it is weakness that drives you to it.

My scars have meant I’ve generally been hyper aware of my arms. It’s strange because I guess most people aren’t. And many never seemed to notice it, thankfully. Or at least didn’t stare. It still feels like part of my story is on show. Which sometimes feels like I’m showing my weakness, when really it tells that I survived. They used to be a big part of my life. Now, my life is much bigger than can be read on my body.

Sometimes I still trace my scars and they can make me feel strong. I have damaged my body enough for one lifetime. Please don’t judge desperate people. If you suspect someone you know is self-harming then don’t be afraid, just talk to them. Ask what you can do to help them. Because there is a way out.

Now I’m going to do something I count as brave. My scars have faded a lot over time – some have had over a decade to heal. I am going to post a photograph of my left wrist. Don’t feel you have to look, especially if you find scars triggering. The picture actually didn’t come out too well and the scars are more visible in person. But I have tried to hide these for years and now I’ve decided to break the silence. So here we go, my left wrist:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Scars.