Scars

Talk of self harm and scars

I wish people would stop lying to me and tell me they can’t notice my scars.

I’ve had two people (friends) within the last 5 months  point scars out to me. They drag their finger across it/them and ask, “When is that from?” or “Did you do that?” There are very few scars on my body that I can say are not from me so I think it should just be assumed that I put them all on my skin.

I try and ignore my scars because they do influence a lot, from how I feel about myself to what I wear. I regret the scars, I
can’t take it back, I’m stuck with them.

I don’t think we’ve gotten to the point of where people can understand why and how my scars got on my body. It’s strange how there are certain parts of mental health I feel I can’t talk about yet. I can say I self harm but I can’t bear it all it (not that I have too). I’m afraid of what people will say.

I have had people say, “Ew!” when they saw my scars but then I’ve also had people say that my scars make me beautiful.

It still comes down to what I think and if all I see when I look down at my body is how I’ve failed to cope “appropriately”, I remember the pain that put them there and the consequences, how am I supposed to be ok with it?

I wanted to do do a nude photoshoot for awhile now. I wanted it to represent how I’m ok with my body now. I haven’t done it because I was trying to make my more visible scars go away. Some of them wont so I guess no photoshoot, I guess I’m not ok with my body.

I’ve always figured that I would accept my scars once I stopped self harming. It’s not happening. Acceptance needs to happen because I deserve it.

“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.” -Khalil Gibran 

 

This….woman…..

If there is one person I wish did not exist. It is Ann Coulter.

It is not often you have a strong female voice in politics and it’s quite devastating that the voice women are looking for it being found in Anne Coulter.

Here is a most recent example of her shameful behaviour

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/10/23/ann-coulter-obama-retard_n_2004828.html?utm_hp_ref=mostpopular

And not to mention her most recent book….which I will not advertise on my blog by linking…..

That is all I have to say, thank you.

Swimming Horrors (SI Trigger Warning)

Trigger Warning: Talk of SI

I went swimming yesterday at my co-workers house. The pool was 85C so getting in the water was easy! I had a lot of fun hanging with my co-workers! We’ve been super stressed lately so we needed time to just hangout. Work is over for the summer in about 3 weeks!

I’m swimming!!! I think I hadn’t swam in about 1 or 2 years before this time! (Summer 2010, I think)

I’ve had an issue with swimming since I began cutting. Cutting has really limited who, what, where, and when.

Who can I go swimming with? I don’t like swimming in front of my family or strangers. I feel bad when my family sees my scars and I don’t want strangers asking me where they came from.

What can I wear? Bikini’s are huge NO because they show the most parts of your body. Majority of one pieces or tankini’s are ugly and I still want to look good in my bathing suit.

Where can I go swimming? Similar to who, I’d prefer to swim in my pool or a friends pool. It’s about who is going to be around that pool/lake.

When can I go swimming? If my recent cuts are not healed enough then I can’t go swimming. If my scars are still in the turning purple when wet stage I can’t go swimming.

My bathing suit

I do have ways around this.

1. Stay in the water as much as possible.

2. Immediately put a towel around me when I get out.

3. Found awesome one piece that is 50′s inspired.

4. Bio oil to help speed up or start scar fading process.

Swimming is not as simple as some may think!

Glimpse into the Past (Possible Triggers)

I was looking for a new photo to put in my image widget and remembered Photobucket. I used to use Photobucket to store any MSN display pictures or other pictures that I found online.

I logged back on and had another glimpse of who I was at 15 and 16 years old.

I’m always surprised but not surprised when I see or read stuff that I did when I younger and in the height of my depression.

I’m not surprised because I knew I was really depressed by I’m always surprised by how that depression looked and how obvious it was. I didn’t hide it. My log in name for Photobucket was _wrist_slasher_ for fuck sake!

And there are worse pictures…

I think I’m disappointed in myself. I think I’m upset that I was so wrapped up in pain, exposed other vulnerable people to images like this and worse, disappointed that I enjoyed searching for these images of self destruction.

I need to let myself off the hook a little bit, if not completely. I was young, I couldn’t handle anything.

I’m shocked still at how much I hated myself. How little I thought my life was worth. This does make it a lot more impressive that I am where I am now.

I’m sorry if these pictures bothered anyone. They bother me but I need that reminder every once in awhile. I forget the pain and I don’t want to. It’s not bad to remember because it’s those experiences that allow me to be helpful to others.

 

When I Didn’t Know It Was Stigma…(Trigger Warning and Profanity)

Me around 15 years old.

I didn’t know about mental health stigma when I was younger. I faced a lot of anger from my friends, peers and family but didn’t know it was a part of a bigger picture.

Here are parts of an MSN conversation (I’m translating it from teen online language) between a friend and I in January 2005. I am 15 years old, I had been cutting for about 2 years and have not yet been diagnosed with chronic depression.

This friend had told our group that she was throwing up her food and not taking the medication she needed to survive. I confronted her.

Me: You would have fucking died if you did that…

Friend: But see, I knew how to stop. That’s something you never knew how to do.

Friend: Thanks for trying to tell me about my sickness though.

Friend: Appreciate it.

Friend: I think I know a little more than you do about it Kristen.

Me: Stop fucking talking about mine! You know nothing about this shit!

Friend: Ha ha, yeah I only dealt with it for 3 years

Friend: I know nothing?

Friend: I only tried to stop you for 3 years.

(Note: It’s interesting how she can know about my illness but I can’t know anything about hers even though we’d known each other for the same amount of time…????)

Me: You never apologize for stuff you say that isn’t true.

Friend: Yeah I do.

Friend: To people I care about.

Me: Oh ok that makes sense….So all that shit about my counselling, saying you cared about me….Oh my god a lie!

Friend: No that was true till I found out you were hopeless.

Friend: Then I knew I was just wasting my time.

Me: Aww thanks…..I always knew I was fucking hopeless….that’s why I’m happy right?

Friend: Happy? Because you fuck guys and smoke?

Friend: Good life!

Friend: Happy? Ha ha….your definition of happy hasn’t always been right.

Me: At least its happy.

Friend: In all the wrong ways.

Me: Sorry for fucking my boyfriend.

Friend: At 15.

Friend: Yeah good one.

Me: Sorry for trying to quit cutting by smoking. At least I tried to quit.

Friend: And you failed. 

Friend: Because smoking is a great habit it…

Me: And after I stop cutting I’m quitting that…and at least I quit pot.

Friend: You shouldn’t have even did it!

Me: You always need to cut people down to make yourself feel better! You’ve always been like that.

Friend: Never mind quitting, you shouldn’t have even started!

Friend:I am fine about myself.

Me: Well I did but at least I stopped it (smoking pot)

Friend: I love my life,

Friend: my friends, my family. 

Me: And I love mine

Friend: and I don’t need to smoke to do it.

At the time…I did.

Friend: Or get high,

Friend: slice myself

Friend: You can quit anything if you really, really wanted to, to make yourself happy! But you’ve never been strong enough to do that.

Friend: And then when people tried to help you,

Friend: You shot them down and went crazy saying all people do is nag!

Friend: You can never win with you.

Me: I know you’re right. It has been a challenge for me to quit but how can I when all you do is make fun of me and make me feel worse? Basically telling me that my life is shitty and pointless then you fucking try to tell me that there’s nothing wrong with it?

Friend: Ok, ha ha, whatever, I don’t care. Everything I say to you goes through one ear and out the other. There is no hope in talking to you.

 (Note: I had only had sex with 2 guys at this point, both boyfriends. My first “long-term” boyfriend was in grade 9, we were a year a part. At this time, because I looked it up, Canada’s average age for first having sex was 16 years old. This friend would later on the rare occasion smoke pot which would mean she smokes more pot than I do currently because I don’t smoke any. I quit smoking, 2 years ago, before I would quit cutting.)

Me: It’s not like you ever fucking listened to me anyway! You never even knew the whole reason why I cut. You were always to busy crying about your own sad pathetic life!!

(Note: This friend would always tell me how her life was worse than mine which she felt was enough reason to make me stopping cutting and being depressed. If I kept cutting, and I did, then I was selfish and attention seeking.)

I am not friends with this girl anymore.

I would like to think this MSN conversation speaks for itself. We cannot have this attitude and expect healing.

Last night I was once again participating in a live chat on TVO’s The Agenda. They were talking about depression (the causes, treatments etc) and one of the producers of the show in the chat said that people must want to be upset about life instead of having optimism, trust and hope. I responded trying to explain that’s not a matter of “want” it’s a matter of “can’t”. How can you be optimistic, have trust or be hopeful when people hate you?

WHERE IN THIS MESS WAS I SUPPOSED TO STOP AND  THINK I WAS MEANT TO BE ALIVE? HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO THINK I COULD OPEN UP ABOUT MYSELF AND BE SAFE!?!? AT WANT POINT WAS I SUPPOSED TO TAKE PRIDE IN MY LIFE AND WHO I WAS AS A PERSON?! EVERYTHING I THOUGHT ABOUT MYSELF WAS FUCKING CONFIRMED BY THOSE AROUND ME!!!!!!  THIS WAS FUCKING HIGH SCHOOL FOR ME!

I’m a little bit resentful to hear that Ontario high schools are now actively involved in mental health days/weeks. They are talking about mental health stigma in ways they never did when I was in high school! Talking about it is more than my high school ever did! The only thing I remember about mental health “awareness” in my high school was a slide, one slide, on celebrities who had mental health issues that would play on TV’s set up in the hallways and classrooms. THAT WAS IT!

“Oh, let’s not hate Kristen because Drew Carry has depression!”…..I wish it worked like that.

I know I should be happy that the next generations of young people will have a better understand but I’m the youth that got left behind and I need to deal with a system that didn’t care about me when I was a teen and doesn’t care about me now that I’m an adult. I am happy that something is being done now just I still need help to heal the damage that was done.

A Success in a Failure

I am furious and still furious about a situation I found myself in last Sunday but it was a good test for me.

I had a job “audition” last Sunday for basically a summer camp version of the job I currently have with the City of Toronto. Sunday transit is horrible and my schedule was totally thrown off so I was roughly 10 minutes late. I thought that at the least I would have to apologize profusely and really bring my game! I was wrong. I was fucking locked out of the building along with someone else who was late. We walked around and tried all the doors before finally going back to the main entrance where I banged on the window (I couldn’t just leave). A young woman opened the door, let us in and went and got the guy who was leading the pre-selection group “audition”. He came down and told us that they had already started so we couldn’t join but that they would keep us in mind in case they didn’t fill all
the positions. I held it together, apologized, thanked them for the opportunity and went home.

I called my Mother as I walked back to the subway and cried. She suggested I send them an apology email so that even though being late made me look bad the email would help me later if they did need to have more “auditions”.

When I got home I cried to Michael. I was so ashamed, angry, sad, embarrassed and at a loss for words. “I’m never late!” I kept saying. (It’s true! I’m not!) Michael just hugged me. I told him that I wanted to hurt myself but reminded myself in my head that I should just cry. One of the distractions I checked of in the DBT workbook was that I’d cry. So I cried.

because you learn from it!

Eventually I decided that I was done with crying and had to calm down (the crying was keeping me from cutting but I wasn’t calm). I walked away from Michael and leaned against the wall. “This sucks but I can’t do anything about it,” I said, mostly to myself. “I can only write that email and then it’s out of my hands.” I took deep breaths and went to write my email.

Monday afternoon I received a response to my apology email saying that my apology was appreciated and my maturity respect. It was reconfirmed that they would keep me in mind if they needed more people.

I did it! A situation that would normally have resulted in devastating self harm, a complete freak out and a lot of emotional pain was over in about 20 minutes and even though that job may be gone for this year (I still have a job interview somewhere else in early May) I came out on top! I put myself to the test and I passed!

A co-worker of mine who has worked in City camps for about 6 years wrote to them also just saying that I would be a great fit so hopefully if they need more people his email will help also (it was so sweet of him to write the email for me!).