Trigger warning and real life in your face:
I’m now in recovery mode. When in this mode is when I actually “see” the damage I have done to my body. The scars, I feel, become more noticeable.. Darker…deeper red… Like a huge neon sign blinking and pointing “look at me.. seriously unstable woman”.
My daughter is at the age, when she asks about my scars I can’t give my usual excuse that sufficed when she was younger…they are from “the cat scratching me”. She is so smart and her curious little mind knows the truth. I never want appear as a disappointment to my children. I don’t want them to ever feel their mom is weak.
Why do I allow myself to ruin my body in this way? Why is my mental illness so visually apparent?
Wearing a swimsuit is embarrassing. I’m too young to wear a grandma swimsuit to cover my hips.
We all are drawn to a certain place of darkness to inflict our pain. Some people aren’t so outward in their suffering. Some choose alcohol (which unfortunately I’m a recovering alcoholic) others use drugs. Everyone has a vice… Life is my vice. Evil was done to me by another. I don’t want to hurt others because of him. Just myself. Anger inward. Hate inward. You hurt me, I hurt me. Makes sense right?? Well to a borderline it does.
The scars I have are on my hips, I suppose, I am serendipitous in that regards. I can hide it to a degree.
Unfortunately, I do not think my recovery will last forever and I will be drawn to that spot again on my hips to ease my reoccurring pain. I can only hope that my recovery well stabilize for a longer period this time.
I can’t count how many scars are on each hip. So many years, so many tears. Years of fear of myself and others. Lost in my pain. Self lothing. No matter what I will eventually leave this body. My scars evidently present on my body. My soul marked with a different scar. Prayers to all the sufferers of life. You are not alone.