Because obviously I'm not self harming. Nope, I'm just overreacting. Definitely. This doesn't count, it's just a little thing, completely normal, nothing to worry about.
Well, let me tell you.
I'm pretty damn sure that if I locked you in a room for five hours and just scratched your skin, you would say that I was hurting you. I'm sure that if you stayed in that room and for five hours, and had me pinch your skin until it ruptured and little bits of blood blotted your arms and your face and your chest and your legs and your back---when tears kept filling your eyes so you couldn't see the separate cuts anymore, I'm pretty damn sure you would say that I was hurting you.
And if I began opening all of those scars, every single day, reopening and squeezing the blood out from them, and making a few more, for quite a few hours, in that little room, in your class, in your bed while you were sleeping, I think you'd say I was still hurting you.
I bet that if I took a boiling mug and held to the back of your neck, and held it, letting it sizzle for a while before putting it down, I bet you'd say I was hurting you even if no one else noticed it. I bet that if I held that mug to your back, where all the very worst scars were, and held it there, burning you, over and over, a new spot every time, I'm pretty damn sure you'd say I was hurting you.
I'm pretty damn certain that if I took you outside in the middle of winter, without your coat, without your shoes, and rolled up your sleeves before shoving your scar-covered arms into the snow, freezing, burning, until I felt you had been punished enough---well, I think you would say I was hurting you.
I can say with some level of certainty that if I began biting you--your hands, your knuckles, your arms--and began leaving angry red bruises on your skin, I bet you would say I was hurting you.
And I bet if I tied strings around your arms and pulled, tighter and tighter, so the circulation in your fingers cut off and you couldn't feel the tips, while it wouldn't exactly cause you pain, I bet you'd agree to the explicit terms that I was
causing you harm.
And if I can be confident in these assertions, please tell me why doing the same things to myself not be considered self harm. Please explain. I would absolutely love to hear it.
Because it took me years to figure out that these mild little actions could be counted as self harm. It took me years to convince myself, and break through this crippling denial, that there was something wrong with me. I've seen people with self harm, and they had gaping holes where their thighs used to be; they had canyons and rivers and deep red gorges carved into their skin; they had rows and rows of deep cuts growing along them like prison bars, and it felt terrible to compare myself with that, to say that I was suffering from the same thing, when their pain was so very, very worse.
But somehow I was convinced that I was doing something terrible to myself. But if you would like to politely walk me back into that denial, go ahead; tell me about how I'm okay. Tell me about how I'm normal.
...You know what, I think it's about time we stop characterizing self harm as just the scars created. I think it's time to talk about what the real issue is: the fact that some people live their lives with the incredible desire to hurt themselves, every second of every hour of every day. We need to talk about the fear involved when people don't know how to resist their impulses. We need to talk about what it's like to feel broken, and strange, and disgusting, and so filled with self loathing for the fact that it doesn't even feel wrong to hurt themselves. We need to talk about the fact that their gets to be a point in some people's lives where the only way they can calm down and face life is if they cause themselves pain.
It doesn't matter how minor that pain may be. It doesn't matter if it even makes a mark on the skin. What matters is the fact that people want to hurt themselves, and isn't that something to worry about?
Life is good.
Well, let me tell you.
I'm pretty damn sure that if I locked you in a room for five hours and just scratched your skin, you would say that I was hurting you. I'm sure that if you stayed in that room and for five hours, and had me pinch your skin until it ruptured and little bits of blood blotted your arms and your face and your chest and your legs and your back---when tears kept filling your eyes so you couldn't see the separate cuts anymore, I'm pretty damn sure you would say that I was hurting you.
And if I began opening all of those scars, every single day, reopening and squeezing the blood out from them, and making a few more, for quite a few hours, in that little room, in your class, in your bed while you were sleeping, I think you'd say I was still hurting you.
I bet that if I took a boiling mug and held to the back of your neck, and held it, letting it sizzle for a while before putting it down, I bet you'd say I was hurting you even if no one else noticed it. I bet that if I held that mug to your back, where all the very worst scars were, and held it there, burning you, over and over, a new spot every time, I'm pretty damn sure you'd say I was hurting you.
I'm pretty damn certain that if I took you outside in the middle of winter, without your coat, without your shoes, and rolled up your sleeves before shoving your scar-covered arms into the snow, freezing, burning, until I felt you had been punished enough---well, I think you would say I was hurting you.
I can say with some level of certainty that if I began biting you--your hands, your knuckles, your arms--and began leaving angry red bruises on your skin, I bet you would say I was hurting you.
And I bet if I tied strings around your arms and pulled, tighter and tighter, so the circulation in your fingers cut off and you couldn't feel the tips, while it wouldn't exactly cause you pain, I bet you'd agree to the explicit terms that I was
causing you harm.
And if I can be confident in these assertions, please tell me why doing the same things to myself not be considered self harm. Please explain. I would absolutely love to hear it.
Because it took me years to figure out that these mild little actions could be counted as self harm. It took me years to convince myself, and break through this crippling denial, that there was something wrong with me. I've seen people with self harm, and they had gaping holes where their thighs used to be; they had canyons and rivers and deep red gorges carved into their skin; they had rows and rows of deep cuts growing along them like prison bars, and it felt terrible to compare myself with that, to say that I was suffering from the same thing, when their pain was so very, very worse.
But somehow I was convinced that I was doing something terrible to myself. But if you would like to politely walk me back into that denial, go ahead; tell me about how I'm okay. Tell me about how I'm normal.
...You know what, I think it's about time we stop characterizing self harm as just the scars created. I think it's time to talk about what the real issue is: the fact that some people live their lives with the incredible desire to hurt themselves, every second of every hour of every day. We need to talk about the fear involved when people don't know how to resist their impulses. We need to talk about what it's like to feel broken, and strange, and disgusting, and so filled with self loathing for the fact that it doesn't even feel wrong to hurt themselves. We need to talk about the fact that their gets to be a point in some people's lives where the only way they can calm down and face life is if they cause themselves pain.
It doesn't matter how minor that pain may be. It doesn't matter if it even makes a mark on the skin. What matters is the fact that people want to hurt themselves, and isn't that something to worry about?
Life is good.
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