fragileminded:I’ve been trying to think of a simple caption for this picture but the truth is; I can
fragileminded:I’ve been trying to think of a simple caption for this picture but the truth is; I can’t, there isn’t one.I get a lot of questions about how I can live like this, live this way, face my scars everyday. The truth is; most of the time I don’t even notice because I’m so used to it. I do not remember how it feels to stroke my fingers across my arms and feel smooth skin underneath my fingertips. Those days and moments where I do notice I get overwhelmed by a sudden rush of infinite sadness. Most of all; “How can a beautiful girl like you do this to yourself?” and the truth is, I’m hurting inside. You know when you get the flu and all of a sudden you feel so ill and crippled that you’d do anything to recover from it, and you promise yourself you’ll appreciate your health a bit more when you start to feel better again? In a way I sacrificed my skin to numb the pain I felt inside. I’d give everything to feel better and at the time I didn’t see any other options. I thought cutting myself out of it was the only way. Through the years I began to realize how wrong I was, how I’d spent so much time trying to make myself as ugly on the outside as I felt on the inside. It doesn’t work like that. There’s a huge misconception going on about self harm. People think it’s about cuts, cutting, blood and scars. That’s not what it’s about. It’s about feelings, pain, hurt, sorrow, sadness, depression, chaos, fear, anger, hate, self hatred, loneliness, it’s about messy relationships, family drama, labels, stereotypes and feeling like you’ll never fit in anywhere. You feel like there’s something wrong with you, that you’re not normal and that no one will ever be able to love you for you. Before I started to fight self harm I believed self harm was something I could control. I believed I chose to cut, therefore it was my decision and something I controlled. As my battle began I learned the hard way that cutting is a compulsion, an addiction, something you’ll desperately be longing for. Release, endorphins, physical pain. Something to take you focus away from the tornado of feelings you have inside. Something to make your head go quiet. For a little while you’ll enjoy the silence and the peace it gives you, but when the rush is over and your thoughts come creeping back, you’ll be wanting to do it again, to get away. This is your way out, this is what makes you feel safe. In the end; it’s no way to live your life. It’s painful, it’s lonely, it’s tough. Even if you can see my scars, you don’t know me. Where I’ve been, who I am, what I’ve been through or the question everyone wants me to answer, the big “why?” Bottom line is; I can still live a normal life, even if I have scars. I can still wear a pretty dress, even if you can see my scars. Underneath that scar tissue, I’m still the person I’ve always been. I’m not special. I’m not superhuman and I don’t have superpowers. My odds of recovery are not better than yours and if I can fight this battle - so can you. If I can overcome self harm - you can too. It’s a slow process, it’s one hell of a struggle and it hurts a lot of the time. It gets better, you deserve better and you’re worth more. For what it’s worth; I believe in you. -- source link