Trigger Warning: Contains Graphic Mention of Self Harm
Somewhere in my teen aged years, I learned to cut.
Not paper, but my own skin. I really don't remember how it started, but, there it was.
It wasn't that I wanted to do serious harm. On the contrary, it calmed me down at a time that I was deeply depressed and so anxious that it impeded my ability to form friendships. And it wasn't just random hashing up... I'd do designs, phrases, small pictures...
But I had to keep it to myself. It was generally frowned upon. Greatly. I had maybe one or two friends that were okay to tell(and one with the same habit). Presenting my 'work' was usually met with harsh admonishments and instruction to "get help". I had one absolutely gorgeous design; the patterns covered from my ankle to my knee(both front and back of leg). I was so proud of it... but couldn't display it(though it really was not much different than a tattoo). I took a risk and showed my then boyfriend... "You did that?" he said. I cringed, nodded, and waited for the lecture. "That's beautiful." Not what I was expecting, and one of my more dear memories...
The next guy wasn't so accepting. He'd ream me out here to next Sunday if he found so much as a scratch on me(which was a problem, because I didn't always do it). I took to cutting the bottoms of my feet. The designs stopped, just 'quick lines', to make it seem innocent. Stress built up. He was hard to live with, and a mean drunk. I'd panic any time he cracked a bottle. He tried to be sympathetic about it, but really didn't understand how his drinking could upset anyone. (People always say mean things when they're drunk, he thought. You just ignore them and move on, in his mind.) One night, he asked if I'd be okay if he had a beer. I said sure. I'll take your Jager, then.
Up to that point, I'd never drank a drop. He was surprised, asked if I was sure, and I confirmed. So I had my first drink; straight Jager. I sat, sipped, watched Spongebob. And I did feel better. So, I switched from cutting to drinking. I drank a lot.
I was the world's most boring drunk. I didn't do anything exciting. I merely managed stress levels. I averaged 5 a night, but no one could tell I'd had a thing(gin and flavored water was my thing). I'd hear people express they were glad I'd stopped the other habit, which absolutely baffled me. "But this is worse, isn't it? This is really bad for me. The scars were only skin deep, and they healed." I'd get a bunch of half reasons on why this was preferable, but I'll be honest, none made sense to me.
It just seemed drinking, though much, much worse for me, was okay, because other people said it was okay. Cutting was not, because it made other people uncomfortable.
I don't drink heavily or cut anymore. But I still am confused about the responses I received during that time.
Why do you feel society is okay with one, but frowns on the other?
Somewhere in my teen aged years, I learned to cut.
Not paper, but my own skin. I really don't remember how it started, but, there it was.
It wasn't that I wanted to do serious harm. On the contrary, it calmed me down at a time that I was deeply depressed and so anxious that it impeded my ability to form friendships. And it wasn't just random hashing up... I'd do designs, phrases, small pictures...
But I had to keep it to myself. It was generally frowned upon. Greatly. I had maybe one or two friends that were okay to tell(and one with the same habit). Presenting my 'work' was usually met with harsh admonishments and instruction to "get help". I had one absolutely gorgeous design; the patterns covered from my ankle to my knee(both front and back of leg). I was so proud of it... but couldn't display it(though it really was not much different than a tattoo). I took a risk and showed my then boyfriend... "You did that?" he said. I cringed, nodded, and waited for the lecture. "That's beautiful." Not what I was expecting, and one of my more dear memories...
The next guy wasn't so accepting. He'd ream me out here to next Sunday if he found so much as a scratch on me(which was a problem, because I didn't always do it). I took to cutting the bottoms of my feet. The designs stopped, just 'quick lines', to make it seem innocent. Stress built up. He was hard to live with, and a mean drunk. I'd panic any time he cracked a bottle. He tried to be sympathetic about it, but really didn't understand how his drinking could upset anyone. (People always say mean things when they're drunk, he thought. You just ignore them and move on, in his mind.) One night, he asked if I'd be okay if he had a beer. I said sure. I'll take your Jager, then.
Up to that point, I'd never drank a drop. He was surprised, asked if I was sure, and I confirmed. So I had my first drink; straight Jager. I sat, sipped, watched Spongebob. And I did feel better. So, I switched from cutting to drinking. I drank a lot.
I was the world's most boring drunk. I didn't do anything exciting. I merely managed stress levels. I averaged 5 a night, but no one could tell I'd had a thing(gin and flavored water was my thing). I'd hear people express they were glad I'd stopped the other habit, which absolutely baffled me. "But this is worse, isn't it? This is really bad for me. The scars were only skin deep, and they healed." I'd get a bunch of half reasons on why this was preferable, but I'll be honest, none made sense to me.
It just seemed drinking, though much, much worse for me, was okay, because other people said it was okay. Cutting was not, because it made other people uncomfortable.
I don't drink heavily or cut anymore. But I still am confused about the responses I received during that time.
Why do you feel society is okay with one, but frowns on the other?
