Trigger Warning
Have I mentioned that I'm a cutter? I'm not sure that I have (and I'm too lazy to go back through my old posts right now). So anyway, I'm a cutter. I'm not nearly as bad as I could be - I only cut my left forearm and my thighs - and I don't cut all that often (until lately). But I'm a cutter.
Cutting has never really made any sense to me. I mean, why the fuck would you cut up your own flesh? What the fuck does that accomplish? I do it, and I'm still at a loss. Well, not entirely. I've been doing it long enough that I know what it does for me. But it's still a very strange thing, to take a blade to your own arm or leg, and it's something I've been thinking about a lot recently. Why have I been thinking about it? Because something has changed. I'm no longer cutting only for the relief it brings. Oh no. I'm cutting for the scars.
Yes, the scars.
This is what makes no sense to me. In the past when I've cut, it's been for the cut. It's been to feel the sting, the pain, to see the blood. That temporary rush would remind me I was alive or let me feel something when I felt nothing. It helped me cope with negative emotions. Afterwards there would be a little guilt (a very small amount) and I would do my best to hide the bandage - I didn't want people to know.
But not now. Now it's the opposite. Now I want people to notice. I want them to see my scars, my fresh wounds. I want them to know. And when I cut? I make sure it's deep enough to leave a scar. There's no more being careful. That's what I'm trying to figure out. Why this change. Because I'm almost becoming obsessed with it, wanting to cut more and more, and getting upset if a cut doesn't leave a noticeable enough scar (or no scar at all).
What I've come up with (really the only thing I've come up with), is this: cuts and scars on my arm are the only real visual representation of how much I struggle or am struggling. People can look at my arm and go 'wow, she must be having a rough time right now'. People seem to get that. And especially since I have been having a rough go of things right now (I've had suicidal thoughts more days than not over the past 3 weeks). But then I think, why does everyone need to know that? They don't. Is this just attention seeking behavior on my part? Look at me! I'm bipolar and depressed! Pay attention to me! I don't want that. I don't want to be that person. See, the people who I truly want to know how I'm doing, well, I tell them. They are good friends, my hubby, and coworkers I trust and whom I know I can rely on for the support I need. Joe Shmo at the 7-11 who sees my arm isn't going to support me or offer me anything of value (unless it compels him to give me my coffee and KitKat for free but I doubt it). So then what's the point?
Actually, I guess I lied. I have come up with something else: the scars are for me. A reminder of difficult times, of what I've gone through. Proof that I was strong enough not to put the blade to my wrist. I'm a fighter and these scars are my battle wounds. I do look at them. I run my fingers over them. And I'm not ashamed of them. But are they necessary? I know the shit I've gone through - do I really need a visual reminder of that? A visual reminder that other people are going to judge me for?
No. No I don't.
There's something else though. Something that I don't even want to admit to myself. Something that I actually haven't told anyone. Part of the reason why I cut is that I don't think people will believe I'm sick if I don't have something physical. I think people will blow me off if they don't also see the cuts. I could be telling them that I'm suicidal and need help but all that means nothing if they don't also see I'm self harming. I need the validation. And I guess part of me also wants something else: people to know I'm bipolar, see that I self harm, but say, 'see her? She's gone through all that but she's still working, still functioning. That's amazing.' Validation.
I fucking hate that about me.
I need to stop cutting, I just don't know if I can.
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