Before I start my story, I am offering a major TRIGGER WARNING for self harm to those who will be reading this. I also want to send out my sympathies to those who are suffering right now. Although it feels like it, you are not alone, and there are people out there that are on your side. They do care even if they don’t know you. Some of us are trying to fight for those who can’t fight for themselves. I truly hope if you are struggling with this that you continue to reach out for help. It can take some time and lots of energy to make your voice heard over the din, but there are those out here who are listening for it and waiting to hear from you. You are worth the effort.
I have struggled with mental health issues for many years. The first-time treatment was sought for me was when I was nine years old. One of the symptoms I experienced starting rearing it’s head when I was around four. That is self-injury. I was sticking myself with sewing needles. My family did not recognize it for what it was, and I didn’t get help for many years. My mutilations progressed to cutting up and down the length of my arms. Shallow at first, then much deeper and potentially life threatening. The frequency also increased. I was so ashamed of what I was doing that I rarely sought any treatment for it.
I had read horror stories about how mentally ill people were treated at the ER by “professionals”. It terrified me, and I refused to go even though it meant I could die. As far as help from the mental health professionals, that was a joke. The few times I tried to get it I was told that I was attention seeking, then ignored. I guess the best way to “cure” someone is by completely denying an issue that is getting progressively worse. I have yet to see that actually work. This happened off and on for many years. I would frequently try to stop on my own cold turkey, but at some point, would return to it.
Sometime around 2007 I came to the realization that I had to get better. My family needed me to be better. I went cold turkey yet again, and so far, have continued to not cut. I learned to recognize several of my triggers. I figured out how to pause for a moment to decide if I can handle them when I am faced with them. Then based on that decision I would move on to something else or continue what I was doing in the first place. This is how I managed to keep myself from cutting. Talking about it on occasion also helped, but with that I have to walk a line. For me it was also a trigger. I still get the urges, and I still think about it at times but have not picked up a blade.
My next obstacle became overcoming the shame of my scars. I would see them when I was nude, wearing a particularly short sleeved shirt, or sleeveless dress. I would relive the shame I felt when I had done them. I saw them as being ugly hideous things. They made me want to hide. I didn’t want people to ask questions about them. I wanted to learn how to better cover them, but for me that was not the answer. I needed to change my mindset about my scars too. This may not be the answer for everyone, and could be a trigger, but here is what I came up with. I started spending much more time in the nude where I could not avoid them. I would run my hands over them so that I could get used to the way the felt. I would push myself to look at them. Eventually I came to accept them.
My scars are not physically attractive, but they are also not something to be ashamed of. They are physical proof of the mental anguish I have gone through over my life and survived. Every time I see them, they are a reminder to me of how strong I am and how far I have come. They are not an enemy, but an ally because if I can survive those, I can hold my head high and take on a whole lot more. It is ok to cover them if that is what works for the individual, but it is also ok to just be ok with those scars. Over the years mine have begun to fade, and many of them so much so that only I can see them now. I have since worn very short shirts, and sleeveless dresses as well.
What I have learned by this is if I do not draw attention to the ones that are still very visible, people usually do not ask. If they do, I simply say, “I got cut”, or “I got hurt”. Then I leave it at that. Sometimes this perplexes people, but eventually they stop asking. My scars are personal to me. I am no longer ashamed of them, but also do not talk about them unless I feel the situation warrants it because of it being a trigger for me. I am doing it now because I want to share my experience with others so that they may see that it is possible with work to shed themselves of the shame.
Help information
If you need help please talk to friends, family, a GP, therapist or one of the free confidential helpline services. For a full list of national mental health services see yourmentalhealth.ie.
- Samaritans on their free confidential 24/7 helpline on 116-123, by emailing jo@samaritans.ie
- Pieta House National Suicide Helpline 1800 247 247 or email mary@pieta.ie – (suicide prevention, self-harm, bereavement) or text HELP to 51444 (standard message rates apply)
- Aware 1800 80 48 48 (depression, anxiety)
If living in Ireland you can find accredited therapists in your area here:
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