You got ’em?
Mine have faded over the years, but the little white grooves are still there. I’m still a stripy tiger. Rawr.
Some points on self mutilation –
Please note this is nothing profound quotable or beautiful.
1) Does it matter if it’s made with a blade or a safety pin? Whether you’re bashing your wrist repeatedly (if you haven’t noticed, Girl, Interrupted is a common theme in this blog) or just hitting your hands of things as you go to get a twinge? What about pulling your toenails off? Is it the same as taking 12 ibuprofen instead of 2? As far as this is concerned I take it on intention. Which, is indescribable. Why did I leave a flat party when I was 18, take the razor blade from behind my phone case and hack my arms to bits? I don’t know. But it sure as hell wasn’t for attention, but unfortunately I have met some people who think I am simply a wilting flower crying for help, perpetuating the stigma that it is a cry for attention. Making people who perversely want to seem like they are crying for attention engage in it to do just that. It’s confusing but I have met those types. Which brings me on to
2) Who sees them? In my life everyone apart from my parents have seen my arms. At the gym I don’t care, at work I wear short sleeves, when I perform I don’t wear a cover up any more. I used to spend a fortune on camouflage make-up but now I am beyond caring. Some may say that it is distracting, but I consider these to be my birth marks. However, I cannot show my parents because they actually created me, and I ruined myself. Which neatly brings me on to
3) Am I ruined? Which I can confidently answer with, fuck no. But I am aware not everyone sees this as the case. I never know how to feel when people say “that looks amazing, you can hardly see your scars at all and you still look good!” Are my scars like bingo wings? But should we be ashamed of the podgier or less firm parts of ourselves? I answer, hell fucking no – so should society view remnants of self mutilation in the same was as overweight people? I have no idea.
4) When a boy sees them. I have had sex with fresh scars, it did not put them off, but then again I’ve dicked some fucked up characters. Now I am healed over my boyfriend will never treat me any differently than if my arms, legs, shoulders, thighs etc. were clear. The first question he asked me wasn’t “why?” it was “why so many?” and this was almost a bonding experience because I couldn’t hide from who I was and he accepted it. So are my scars a screening process? What? I should probably redraft this or do a more detailed one later. I probably will, I just want to get these thoughts out there.
5) Ambulance chasers. You know the type, possibly a more archaic term is “white knight” types. I see them in the same way and boy do they love a girl with dead pupils and gnarled arms. They are easy to weed out though. The second they ask to see you take your medication or say they want to help you tell them to fuck off. This deserves another blog later on.
I should probably go to work now.
To finish I should say that my closest friends don’t make me feel any different for having a visible bruising from the past, and they understand that showing it isn’t brave or beautiful. It’s just a thing, aside from what makes me brave and beautiful. That’s a nice way to end it.
All my love
Laureljane x
Ramblings from the parallel 