self-injury and me
Question:
: apologies for my stupid newsreader that doesn’t format quite right.I : should have something better by january. this one looks okay, though i have seen a few mangled posts from you. so only half an apology is necessary. and you can take a quarter off that because i don’t think you need to apologize at all. 
: Oh, no, not trite at all! After I wrote that post, I DID feel better, : and like I had spoken (and like I had told) : Since I can’t be there now, I will have to accept my progress as a good : thing. *smile* sometimes it’s hard for me to recognize progress. wellll, more like most times really. : trait. and i have scars from wrists to shoulders and on both thighs. in : some weird way, i’ve come to look at these as battle scars. ‘look! i went : through this much crap and i’m still here!’ sometimes i am ashamed and : embarassed, but i feel that anyway. i’m terribly self-conscious. : : This is so helpful to me. I will try to remember that as a positive way : to view them. i’m really glad it’s helpful. i haven’t really put this into words before, so it was helpful for me to write it. : i live with the scars like i live with my alters. sometimes with love and : understanding, sometimes with frustration and anger. these scars are part : of me now, and i am very tired of hating myself. i think it helps when i : see them for what they are. scars. hurting places that have healed. they : are not shame solidified, they don’t define me. i am not a better nor : worse person for them. : : This helps a lot. I am also tired of hating myself. I have lots more : loving moments than Iused to. Sometimes, it’s hard, because of the : contrast. When there was only "not-loving", : it was, in a way, not so hard, because the hate and the pain were : "comfortable" as in I was : used to them. Now, loving me feels different (big different), and it : took a while to tolerate : it. And the "not-loving" seems much harsher, because I know a loving : contrast. : (blast, I don’t feel I’m saying it very well) you’re saying it fine. i know that i can very easily slip into the tracks of those old feeling and thinking patterns, but i see it quicker now. i recognize how those patterns feel, and i can choose to move back into the new patterns. : I’m so personally grateful you survived, you have helped me much over : the years. : (i came to asar 4-5 years ago (i don’t tell time so good)) : Thank you silverleaf, for your poetry, your wisdom, your kindness, your : fierceness, : and mostly, your presence. : an e-hug to you to, and some brilliant chrysanthemums to remind you of : sunshine, *teary grin* thank you for this, tigerbunny. it made my day yesterday when i first read it, and it makes my day today, too. *hugs* silverleaf — — Do not run. We are your friends. *bzort*
Response:
: i didn’t see your original msg. yet, so i thought i’d piggyback on to tigerbunny’s : reply. (boy, there were a lot of animals in that sentence!) woohoo! the aar zoo! : it’s very helpful to me also! i’m glad you put it in words. sometimes though, cuz : my dad only lives 2 blocks away, i just want to go over there and bear my arm and : scream "see what you did to me!" which makes only a sick kind of sense, i guess. : but other than that, i feel the same way as you do, they’re battle scars, and i’m : still here. i really identify with that. i think when i go to court i want to wear short sleeves. but regardless of what i wear, my exparents are not going to see what they’ve done to me. somehow they don’t make the connection (or refuse to make the connection) that what they did was wrong. both exparents are living in a lovely little fantasy world which sets them as the martyred heros. I AM ANGRY!!! in some ways it really pisses me off that they got to me enough that i have these scars. but how could they not? i just think about what happened, and i can’t even imagine a child in that situation. even trying to imagine a child in that scene makes me want to throw up. 
: i’m saving a copy of your wisdom for when i hate myself. cuz you really have : a good attitude about it, "hurting places that have healed." sometimes i : wish the scars no one can see would heal as fast as the ones everyone : can see, sigh. i wish it too. every day, i think. that’s part of the appeal of cutting for me, that this at least i can fix. 
: my dad used to pinch a certain spot on the inside of my left arm, in : public, to control my behavior. it looked like he was hugging me. i : have one, *one* picture where he is doing that, because altho i : am standing straight and trying to smile, my eyes tell the real story. : that pic is precious proof that it is all too real, i taped it into my : journal. i’m unlucky and lucky picture-wise. when social services (finally) pulled my sibs and i out of that nightmare, they told me to pack enough clothes for overnight. i’ve never been back. my aunt had maybe three photographs of us all, smiling family shots. it made me ill to look at them when i was younger. sometimes, though, i wish i could see the little girl i was. i think the idea of a tattoo reward is terrifical. i’ve been kind of thinking along those lines myself. maybe a tiny leaf on the inside of my wrist. : thanks for sharing your wisdom about cutting. wisdom? me?? wow. silverleaf — — Do not run. We are your friends. *bzort*
Response:
i didn’t see your original msg. yet, so i thought i’d piggyback on to tigerbunny’s reply. (boy, there were a lot of animals in that sentence!)
[...] : trait. and i have scars from wrists to shoulders and on both thighs. in : some weird way, i’ve come to look at these as battle scars. ‘look! i went : through this much crap and i’m still here!’ sometimes i am ashamed and : embarassed, but i feel that anyway. i’m terribly self-conscious. : : This is so helpful to me. I will try to remember that as a positive way : to view them. i’m really glad it’s helpful. i haven’t really put this into words before, so it was helpful for me to write it.
it’s very helpful to me also! i’m glad you put it in words. sometimes though, cuz my dad only lives 2 blocks away, i just want to go over there and bear my arm and scream "see what you did to me!" which makes only a sick kind of sense, i guess. but other than that, i feel the same way as you do, they’re battle scars, and i’m still here. : i live with the scars like i live with my alters. sometimes with love and : understanding, sometimes with frustration and anger. these scars are part : of me now, and i am very tired of hating myself. i think it helps when i : see them for what they are. scars. hurting places that have healed. they : are not shame solidified, they don’t define me. i am not a better nor : worse person for them.
i’m saving a copy of your wisdom for when i hate myself. cuz you really have a good attitude about it, "hurting places that have healed." sometimes i wish the scars no one can see would heal as fast as the ones everyone can see, sigh. [...] and….weird as it sounds, my scars, especially the older ones, give my skin a completely unique texture. almost like i shed my skin and grew a new one. it reminds me of when i am.
[...] "when i am." *nod* i can relate to that. i don’t cut all over, just all up and down my left arm. that’s significant to the abuse, i was born left handed and broke my left hand at age 4 by sticking it in the rollers of the old-fashioned washing machine we had. i can only guess why a 4-yr-old would want to "kill" her hand also, my dad used to pinch a certain spot on the inside of my left arm, in public, to control my behavior. it looked like he was hugging me. i have one, *one* picture where he is doing that, because altho i am standing straight and trying to smile, my eyes tell the real story. that pic is precious proof that it is all too real, i taped it into my journal. i’ve made a contract with myself, that if i let the scars heal in that "pinch" spot and don’t cut, i will reward myself with a tatoo. something meaningful and personal, and since it’s on the inside of my upper arm not many will see it. and i wouldn’t dare cut over a tatoo cuz i love them so much! so at least an inch or so of my left arm will be scar-free. i dunno, maybe it’ll help me stop cutting altogether. thanks for sharing your wisdom about cutting. thank you, tigerbunny, also! it’s a weird subject to talk about, i can’t talk about it to anyone but here on a.a.r. karmagrrl —— http://www.geocities.com/Wellesley/5966
Response:
- Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Hi tigerbunny, It is me, Carey I really only want to respond to the last part this post. Not that the rest isn’t important, but I think/feel that you will get much more meaningful responses from some others here. So I am going to snip down to: How do you live with the scars? How can I love them? I have paraphrased this before, and will have to again here because my guardian angel hasn’t return the book it is from. The book is titled "A Gracious Plenty" and is by Sherri Reynolds. It is a wonderfully gentle book about healing, and about life in general. Anyway this is close to what she says: Some people look for truth like they look for God, with single purpose and singlemindedness, attaching all other things to it. Your truth is not my truth. But that isn’t important. What is important is this: Some people see scars as a sign of hurting, other people see scars as a sign of healing. Try to understand. This little passage says all kinds of things to me. But I will leave it at this for now, to see what kind of magic, if any, it works for you. …still casting bottles into the sea Carey tearfully, tigerbunny
Hi tiberbunny, hi Carey I just wanted to tack on to Carey’s post because I have a thought or two that goes along here. In the beginning the scars looked painful. At some point in time, granted after a few years of therapy, I looked at them again and realized that they were the areas of my strength – not weakness. I realized that it was those areas where I had the most pride in my accomplishments and stamina. I realized that I was not a weak child, and I was not a weak adult and somewhere along the line the scars had been transformed. It came as a shock to me in that with the realization I also loved myself and deeply appreciated who I am, both the strengths I was born with and the strengths I developed as a result of my dysfunctional background. And, tigerbunny, it feels good – very, very good. – Panther http://asarian-host.org – anon service & websites http://asarian-host.org/inpsyte – trauma psychology http://asarian-host.org/beaumond – fiberarts
Response:
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<BLOCKQUOTE TYPE=CITE <PREwell just a couple of thoughts….cut your nails very short. as clawing my arms and face was my biggest weapon against myself I have found that if you do find yourself clawing at least there aren’t any more scars. As for scars I have many physical as well as emotional form the many years of self -injury. It was something that My ex/abuser often used to make me feel very ugly and unattractive. But my fiancee only makes me feel beautiful. I dont know that you can "love" the scars but you may be able to live with them. I figured out that I was doing this to myself because I would be angry at someone else. and it was easier for me to hate myself and be angry with myself than to confront the real cause of my anger. I honestly don’t know how I control it now but it is few and far between that I injure myself, maybe living with an abusive husband for 8 yrs was enough self-injury to last me awhile. so as for suggestions, well again the cutting your nails so they cant do any real damage, find a different outlet for your pain(hopefully something safe) and talk , talk , talk to the people that you are able to…it helps…thinking about you, liz4</PRE </BLOCKQUOTE <BRHiya liz4, <BRThanks so much for your response. Sometimes it helps to talk my lips off, and sometimes it doesn’t – but its very good to be reminded. <PFor me, cutting them doesn’t work, as it just makes them sharper. Or if really short, then my fingers hurt, and i could do a lot of damage. <PI remember feeling beautiful with a lover, once. I’m sure it will happen again. <BR(I am a hopeless optimist) <PThanks so much for thinking of me, and taking the time to write. <BRtigerbunny</HTML
Response:
apologies for my stupid newsreader that doesn’t format quite right.I should have something better by january. but you’re speaking, and you’re not shameful. i know, it’s the trite response, but it’s still true. i do know that for me it always escalates, and also that it is a sign that my stuff is getting unmanagable. most times i don’t notice when i’m getting completely stressed out, so when the urge to cut hurts i have to sit back and look at where it’s coming from. sometimes i’d really like to ditch the feelings and just cut, dammit! but not always, which is progress, i suppose.
Oh, no, not trite at all! After I wrote that post, I DID feel better, and like I had spoken (and like I had told) Since I can’t be there now, I will have to accept my progress as a good thing. trait. and i have scars from wrists to shoulders and on both thighs. in some weird way, i’ve come to look at these as battle scars. ‘look! i went through this much crap and i’m still here!’ sometimes i am ashamed and embarassed, but i feel that anyway. i’m terribly self-conscious.
This is so helpful to me. I will try to remember that as a positive way to view them. and….weird as it sounds, my scars, especially the older ones, give my skin a completely unique texture. almost like i shed my skin and grew a new one. it reminds me of when i am.
I like that. <smiles : How do you live with the scars? How can I love them? i live with the scars like i live with my alters. sometimes with love and understanding, sometimes with frustration and anger. these scars are part of me now, and i am very tired of hating myself. i think it helps when i see them for what they are. scars. hurting places that have healed. they are not shame solidified, they don’t define me. i am not a better nor worse person for them.
This helps a lot. I am also tired of hating myself. I have lots more loving moments than Iused to. Sometimes, it’s hard, because of the contrast. When there was only "not-loving", it was, in a way, not so hard, because the hate and the pain were "comfortable" as in I was used to them. Now, loving me feels different (big different), and it took a while to tolerate it. And the "not-loving" seems much harsher, because I know a loving contrast. (blast, I don’t feel I’m saying it very well) i don’t know if you do e-hugs, but here’s one if you want it…and silverflowers whether you hug or not.
oh, thank you, I love e-hugs (and real ones too) and flowers are so lovely *happysigh* this is so hard to speak about. i’ve been thinking lately about all the self-harm things i’ve done, from a very young age. it makes me very sad and angry. but…i’m here. i survived. and if that’s what it took, then so be it. tearfully too, silverleaf
I’m so personally grateful you survived, you have helped me much over the years. (i came to asar 4-5 years ago (i don’t tell time so good)) Thank you silverleaf, for your poetry, your wisdom, your kindness, your fierceness, and mostly, your presence. an e-hug to you to, and some brilliant chrysanthemums to remind you of sunshine, tigerbunny
Response:
<respectfully snipped, but i read every word : It’s way less in severity, but i don’t know….If it’s like one drink is : bad for an alcoholic, is a little self injury bad for me? I stress less : about it. I only worry about it if I know I’m stressed and doing it. : Most of the time, I don’t think about it, and it doesn’t think about me : (so to speak). I am still so horribly ashamed that I can’t even speak : it. but you’re speaking, and you’re not shameful. i know, it’s the trite response, but it’s still true. i do know that for me it always escalates, and also that it is a sign that my stuff is getting unmanagable. most times i don’t notice when i’m getting completely stressed out, so when the urge to cut hurts i have to sit back and look at where it’s coming from. sometimes i’d really like to ditch the feelings and just cut, dammit! but not always, which is progress, i suppose. : Which makes me angry (to think about that). And I can’t really : see anything but the scars. As I get older they look worse to me. And : I’ve never been the sort that could tolerate much/any makeup. So, I : fantasize about chemical peels, and laser surgery, and retin-a (which I : can’t use-too harsh). yeah. i have very fair skin, and i scar very ugly. it’s kind of a family trait. and i have scars from wrists to shoulders and on both thighs. in some weird way, i’ve come to look at these as battle scars. ‘look! i went through this much crap and i’m still here!’ sometimes i am ashamed and embarassed, but i feel that anyway. i’m terribly self-conscious. and….weird as it sounds, my scars, especially the older ones, give my skin a completely unique texture. almost like i shed my skin and grew a new one. it reminds me of when i am. : One of the things that was so wonderful? about the person that : confronted me with this, was that was what I always wanted. I wanted : somebody to notice that something was incredibly wrong with me (there : was, I was being abused) by the pain that surely must have shone. and : the fact is, most folks didn’t. them that noticed, didn’t say anything. *sad nods* this has been very true for me. when my aunt heard that i was cutting she said i was only looking for attention. yes? AND!?!? anyone that looks for attention by slashing NEEDS attention. and no one saw the pain back then, either. i had a real hard time getting anyone to see the pain now, because i looked like i was ’so together’. for me it was partly a defiance, like ‘oh yeah? ignore THIS!’ : How do you live with the scars? How can I love them? i live with the scars like i live with my alters. sometimes with love and understanding, sometimes with frustration and anger. these scars are part of me now, and i am very tired of hating myself. i think it helps when i see them for what they are. scars. hurting places that have healed. they are not shame solidified, they don’t define me. i am not a better nor worse person for them. : tearfully, : tigerbunny i don’t know if you do e-hugs, but here’s one if you want it…and silverflowers whether you hug or not. this is so hard to speak about. i’ve been thinking lately about all the self-harm things i’ve done, from a very young age. it makes me very sad and angry. but…i’m here. i survived. and if that’s what it took, then so be it. tearfully too, silverleaf — — Do not run. We are your friends. *bzort*
Response:
well just a couple of thoughts….cut your nails very short. as clawing my arms and face was my biggest weapon against myself I have found that if you do find yourself clawing at least there aren’t any more scars. As for scars I have many physical as well as emotional form the many years of self -injury. It was something that My ex/abuser often used to make me feel very ugly and unattractive. But my fiancee only makes me feel beautiful. I dont know that you can "love" the scars but you may be able to live with them. I figured out that I was doing this to myself because I would be angry at someone else. and it was easier for me to hate myself and be angry with myself than to confront the real cause of my anger. I honestly don’t know how I control it now but it is few and far between that I injure myself, maybe living with an abusive husband for 8 yrs was enough self-injury to last me awhile. so as for suggestions, well again the cutting your nails so they cant do any real damage, find a different outlet for your pain(hopefully something safe) and talk , talk , talk to the people that you are able to…it helps…thinking about you, liz4 – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – (for a friend who asked, because I could not say it out loud) oh my, I think this is gonna get long (well, long for me, and certainly icky) i’d appreciate feedback or comments from anybody who is so inclined . How do you live with the scars? How can I love them? tearfully, tigerbunny
Response:
(for a friend who asked, because I could not say it out loud) oh my, I think this is gonna get long (well, long for me, and certainly icky) i’d appreciate feedback or comments from anybody who is so inclined When I was, oh, probably it was eleven, because that’s when my hormones kicked in, i developed a raging acne. Probably, it was an average case of mild acne, but my memory says it raged. My mother, who had started abusing me long before, began to pick at my acne. She’d say, here let me just get this one. Being a well-behaved and compliant child, I just stood there. She had thin sharp fingernails, and it hurt a lot. One day, I went to the mirror, and did it myself. I remember thinking, I’ll just do this myself, then. It hurt less, somehow, and, more importantly, I was in charge of it. I never stopped (and it was a long, long time ago). I *never* thought about it. I just did it. Then a partner of mine confronted me on it. Sie did so with much love and concern, and some "how can you find a way to stop doing this?" Sie also self injured, in the same way, and in many others. Sie was an addict, and when I was with hir, I got into recovery (isn’t there a way to say these things without cliches?-prolly not). We went to a conference,and there was a meeting scheduled about Self-Injury. Everybody who talked said they were amazed at how many people were there. (we were totally overflowing the room, on the floor, standing in the aisles, everywhere) I was not surprised. I knew that many people did these things, i was surprised that that many wanted to talk about it and "work" on it. Anyway, at that meeting, several people talked about exactly how they injured. One guy told a story about reading a magazine, that had an article about Cutters; and he was flabbergasted to realize that enough people did it that there was a name for it! A name for what he did, too. Most of us do this in such secrecy. (of course) Anyway, several people talked about cutting at that meeting. The thought came to me: Razor blades! It never occurred to me to use Razor Blades! And that thought terrified me. Everything everyone in that room said was something I could relate to. I could GO there. This made my life much more scary. Living with a coke addict, there were lots of blades lying around the house. (and at that point, btw, i had not remembered any of the abuse yet – this was about 9 or 10 years ago) So, I took care of myself and did what I had to do, and managed not go farther than clawing up my own face with my own fingernails. I did a therapy group about it, once. It was using a workbook from a hospital in Chicago that had(has?) an inpatient treatment center for nothing but self-injury. When when we started the group we had to promise that we would not injure for the duration of the group. That’s the deal at the hospital too. I didn’t think I could do that, but I said I would. Truth is, it was not bad for me at that time, and doing the group stirred up much more desire to injure than I had had previously. We had to write down everytime we had the urge to injure. That was horrible. Then, as I recall, we worked our way around to noticing the thoughts and feelings that came round just before we wanted to injure. The other thing you have to promise is to not talk about the exact method you use to injure. Which I could understand, given my experience at the meeting. But it was really hard. and several years later, I was overjoyed to find asar and all kinds of folks talking about all kinds of things, including specifics and FEELINGS about cutting and injury and stuff. geez, i remember reading books when I was 13-14, about teens that went crazy, and i remember an afterschool special, and this girl was under a desk, pricking her arm with a needle, and watching the drops form, and i remembering knowing how she felt, and why she was doing that, and that I would do that to, in her shoes. And then, came this past summer, when I allowed the pain to be so great, without sharing. and in a moment of pure "something", I went out and bought double edged blades. Then i just left them there for a long time. Then one evening, I used one. and IT DIDN’T WORK. I couldn’t feel it. It was too thin, and too sharp, and it just didn’t hurt. :P And, just a little bit, I laughed at myself, all that time being scared of something that doesn’t even work as a tool for my self-injury. I don’t let myself think of picking up the knives. They’re thick and they’re dull, and I have a notion they might work better than blades. And, I have dealt/am continuing to deal with that pain, and new ones. But I can’t seem to stop with the fingernails. I have learned I do it when I’m mad, and when I go home for the holidays, the bathroom is my haven. I’ve learned to be more subtle. Partly, because I have more years of practice, and partly because I’ve copped it to my dad, so he knows what i’m doing when I don’t come out of the bathroom in a reasonable amount of time. It’s way less in severity, but i don’t know….If it’s like one drink is bad for an alcoholic, is a little self injury bad for me? I stress less about it. I only worry about it if I know I’m stressed and doing it. Most of the time, I don’t think about it, and it doesn’t think about me (so to speak). I am still so horribly ashamed that I can’t even speak it. Which makes me angry (to think about that). And I can’t really see anything but the scars. As I get older they look worse to me. And I’ve never been the sort that could tolerate much/any makeup. So, I fantasize about chemical peels, and laser surgery, and retin-a (which I can’t use-too harsh). I have no reasonable ending place, but I wanted to comment on another thread. For what it’s worth, you’re not alone at all in cutting. I’m not sure if I can say it’s common, but I can’t call it a rare reaction, either. The general term is self-abuse, and it covers cutting and other harms. So, just to cover the general points, self-abuse doesn’t mean you’re despicable, hideous, repugnant, uniquely awful or any of the rest of those worries. I don’t know if you worried about that, but I thought I’d mention it, just in case. Or at least you’re not alone.But, Jack I feel so despicable, hideous,
repugnant and uniquely awful and not doing it, doesn’t feel make me feel any better that’s part of it, from a purely clinical view. for me, cutting has been a way to show externally how much i hurt inside. and a way to deal with feelings and memories that are so huge and horrible that cutting has seemed like a good way to cope with them. and to have something wrong with me that can actually be *fixed* unlike all the internal stuff.
One of the things that was so wonderful? about the person that confronted me with this, was that was what I always wanted. I wanted somebody to notice that something was incredibly wrong with me (there was, I was being abused) by the pain that surely must have shone. and the fact is, most folks didn’t. them that noticed, didn’t say anything. How do you live with the scars? How can I love them? tearfully, tigerbunny
Response:
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