Trigger Warning: this take involves discussion of self-harm which may be upsetting to some users. If you don't feel comfortable reading it, please skip to the advice portion of the article. Thank you.
Self-harm is an extremely controversial topic that normally isn't talked about much out of fear of being ridiculed, cast out, or called a liar. Self-harm also comes from a plethora of different faces, and can look different for everyone. I'm not going to sit here and pretend that I can imagine what anyone else is going through - we all deal with hardships differently and what might be tolerable for me might push someone else close to the edge. All i can share are my feelings on the matter, and also offer some advice to those who need it.
When I was younger, I developed a self-harming addiction that eventually escalated into me wanting to take my own life. I didn't, obviously, though it was definitely tempting for a while. I craved the release I felt only death could provide for me. I took to self-harming as a way to distract myself from the emotions I was feeling, and, as a result, I am left with scars. I had spent so much time trying to hide them and make them less noticeable to the world, when I should have just accepted them.
“My scars tell a story. They are a reminder of times when life tried to break me, but failed. They are markings of where the structure of my character was welded.”
What I Learned
On account of my sorry plights, I learned that each and every scar tells a story. Has a history. It portrays a part of life that can and never will be forgotten; a moment when you were weak, or you made a mistake, or you were so angry and you didn't know how else to deal with what you were feeling. Scars allow people to see into your past and give a part of yourself that, without them, you wouldn't have. They're beautiful, just like me. Just like you.
When you look at your scars, what do you see? Do you see something hideous, a marking that never goes away and only serves to remind you of what a lost cause you were? Or do you see something with meaning? Something you ended up with when life tried to destroy you, only it didn't? Do you see the strength you gained from it? Life is meant to be lived, experienced. Sometimes it'll hurt you, maybe to the point where you might not be able to take it. But in the end, you lived. And now you're strong.
Don't disguise your scars. Don't hide them.
You shouldn't have to.
Your scars aren't the problem. It's the people who judge you because of them who are.
Thanks for reading <3
---- Julie B. (CœurRosé)