The Scars of our Souls

Today is self-injury awareness day, so I thought I’d do a post to celebrate. 

Celebrate? Well that really appears to be the wrong word for this sort of sensitive topic doesn’t it? Perhaps, but I am celebrating because spreading awareness makes a real difference and even if we are hiding behind a computer screen, it is still spreading the message. 

Perhaps I am also celebrating because proudly I can say that I haven’t self-harmed in a long time now, probably close to a year? I haven’t been counting. I have had the urge to a few times lately, but I have been able to stop myself. I actually burned my arm by accident taking a tray out of the oven the other day and have been freaking out that people with notice and think "she's doing it again".

When people see the scars on my arms 90% of them don’t have any idea why they are there, perhaps because injuring one’s self on purpose is a concept so far removed from the minds of those who have good mental health that when they see someone who doesn’t follow the society stereotypes of an “Emo” or appear to be acting overtly crazy then surely there must be a logical explanation.

Their ignorance is mostly obvious because so many people who notice my scars will comment on them. If people actually thought they were from self-harm at first glance, then they wouldn’t say anything, chances are they would stop making eye contact and awkwardly talk about the weather until they could walk away and we didn’t have to see each other again.

I get commonly asked things such as “were you a chef by trade?” the first time I heard that one was from a customer at work and I didn’t realise they had noticed my arms so I laughed and asked “Why on earth do you ask that?” to which the person said “Oh I just thought because of all the burn scars on your arms, my nephew is a chef and he has the same thing”. I was taken by surprise and didn’t know what to say which made the rest of our interaction rather uncomfortable. 

Now when I get the ‘chef’ comment I usually just laugh and say “Obviously not a very good one!” which seems to satisfy people. If customers or strangers directly ask me “what happened to your arms?” I tend to just reply “burns, I’m pretty uncoordinated”.  Which are both true statements, they just happen to be unrelated. Imagine if I said “Well those

scars you see on my body are simply the trademarks of the invisible scars on my soul.” Conversation stopper right there.

A lady I worked with in a government department years ago was also bipolar, I had already known, but she told me this one day when we were having a D & M. I laughed and said ‘maybe that’s why we get along so well, so am I” She just grinned like she had been heard for the first time and rolled up her sleeve to reveal arms covered in winding tattoos of cherry blossoms and vine leaves. She looked at me as if to test me and said “I suppose you do stupid things like this too then?” I looked closer and beneath the tattoos were hundreds of fine white lines, scars of varying lengths.

I smiled back and rolled up my sleeve to reveal my own history “Yep.” From that point on we looked out for each other, if one of us was having a bad day a coffee would suddenly appear on our desk with a smiley face post it note saying “luv ya!” Finally, somebody I knew in real life ‘got me’ and I didn’t have to explain a thing. 

Causes of self-harm vary widely and it’s a very individual thing; for me has always been about punishment rather than trying to “feel”. Inflicting pain or giving myself a scar to remind me of the ‘bad’ thing I have done and theoretically prevent me doing it again; ironically when I do hurt myself I am usually so angry that I don’t feel any pain from the wound anyway and I always inevitably do that ‘bad’ thing again anyway.

I think it is the self-hatred of my eating disorder that triggers me more than the bipolar depression; 90% of my scars are punishments for having eaten or binged. Some of the risk taking behaviours of my mania’s may also be considered 'acts of self-harm' officially, but for me they are less intentional acts and more of an impulsive recklessness. They ‘feel’ like two very different things.

One day I hope that I will be able to be more honest about my scars, stand up tall for mental health and contribute towards ending the stigma in person rather than just behind a keyboard. But for now the truth is reserved for the pages of my blog and people in my life that I love and trust while long sleeves continue to hide my struggles from the outside world. 

Do you, or have you self-harmed?   

If you do, is it a coping mechanism or punishment? 

Can you be comfortably honest about it or is this something you are working towards?