Today is national To Write Love On Her Arms day.

This day definitely holds a special place in my heart. If you're not familiar with TWLOHA, here's the description from the group on facebook.

"To Write Love on Her Arms is a non-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide. TWLOHA exists to encourage, inform, inspire and also to invest directly into treatment and recovery."

For a long time, just before I moved here and sometimes still to this day, I battle with self-injury. Even if I haven't done it in a while, it will always still be in the back of my head. I started when I was probably 12 or 13. I have no idea how I had heard about it/knew what "cutting" was. It just, one day, happened. I started off small with a few knicks on my wrists, nothing too serious. It probably got worse once I found out that I was moving away from the place where I'd called home for 8 years. I kind of spiraled into my own, dark thoughts for a while. To this day I'm not sure if I've fully recovered from that. I used to keep blades and anything that would get the job done with great ease, inside my diary. Eventually, my mom found it, which therefore turned everything into a bigger ordeal. Not only did I hate her, but I hated myself. I had all these emotions that were virtually new to me, and I really couldn't wrap my mind around them. My only release ended up being self-injury, or cutting. I moved from my wrists to my legs. Mainly my upper thighs. We moved here, and it just got worse. I moved to my shoulders. My shoulders are the worse. I call them my battle scars because they will be there for the rest of my life. They're pretty bad. I've never gotten stitches, but I probably should have on at least one. Well, once I ended up making friends, I found out that some of my other friends also cut, which was actually a relief to me and I know it shouldn't have been. It was just nice to know that I wasn't the only one out there with this kind of twisted way of releasing my feelings. For a while I had stopped, but there was a website where people would post pictures of the harm they'd inflict on themselves along with poetry, or stories. It is sickening for me to think about, but when I got the urge to cut, I would just go look at what other people had done and it would almost make me feel a little better. Not that rush that I was used to, but I have no idea how to explain it other than that. I thought about suicide a lot before I moved here, as well. I had come up with a full letter and everything, but no solid plan of how to actually go through with it. It is still present in my mind, more so than I would like it to be. I know mine isn't a traumatic story, but it is still mine, nonetheless and I am always going to carry around the scars and memories with me.

Keep on keepin' on.

i've cut myself before, but only accidentally.
» thaitanic on 2009-11-14 09:11:52

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