For most of my late teens to mid twenties, I had a *major* problem with cutting. It seemed I couldn’t go through a day without making at least a tiny scratch somewhere on my body. When I wasn’t cutting, I was thinking about it. As time passed, though, it got better. I cut less and less until I found that an entire year had gone by with no issues. Now, however, the problems have started again.
Now, I’m either cutting or thinking about it again. I wrote about this in a previous post and about the response in this post. I am truly trying to overcome this, but it’s a bugger of an issue and seems to be all-consuming again. It causes me both deep shame and deep relief. In going a bit further, I made the first ever cuts that are easily seen. It’s like all this talk of trauma in therapy makes me want to seem as ugly on the outside as I do on the inside. Like I’m afraid that, if I don’t have visible scars, people will keep hurting me until they put them there against my control.
This started well over a decade ago in an effort to cover a scar. Now, it seems to have come full circle. Now, I am creating external scars to show the gaping internal wounds and get the disgusting-ness out. It’s not a pretty habit and not something I’m proud of. Right now, though, it’s in control.