A Little Piece of Me Part 1

When I was in the 7th grade, I used to put fake bruises on my arms. I also used to try to slice my face with a razor blade. I was fascinated by these things, marks and flaws. Cos then maybe people would ask me why I had them and I could tell them the secrets I was holding in me. No one did, though.

When I was in the 8th grade I started cutting myself. I used my sharp fingernails to scratch myself so deep the mark I left healed raised above the rest of my skin. More secrets. And unrequited love.

When I was in the 9th grade I started slashing my skin with razor blades and safety pins. I carved words into my arms, thigh, ankles, hip and torso.

Love, Liar, Loyal, Truth, Whore, I care for you, Nothing is real, If you love, you'll be hated, I'm Sorry, I want to Dissapear. Also, my best friend's initials.

When I was in the 10th grade I started bruising myself. Mostly in band class with the hard percussion mallets. I was angry at my skin for not bruising easily.
I also found someone who would cut and bruise me. I used to play a game during lunch called "The top 10 bruises on my body". I was burned by a gel candle on purpose and I still have the scar on my torso the 2nd degree burn left. He sliced me with a piece of broken glass, leaving a thick scar on my forearm. (pictured)

I also tried to slit my wrists, but became more angry because my veins where hidden deep beneath thick skin and a will to live. I put a gun to my head and the cops had to be called with their bean bag guns and air conditioned patrol cars.

At 15 I finally had the courage to tell my secrets. He only served a year in jail but his name is forever on that list to keep others away.

By the time I was 17, I'd been to 2 different mental hospitals and on about 5 or 6 different prescription anti-depressants, mood stabilizers and anti-psychotics.

4 years ago, I stopped cutting myself on purpose. I noticed that all the words I had carved into my skin had healed up and disappeared.
As if it never happened. But the slashes stayed. I took to having cats scratch me on purpose with their tiny claws and shaving too close in the shower for relief. Because of this I have thick callouses on the back of my ankles.

3 years ago, I had someone new to bruise me. By then, years of prescription pain killers, anti-depressants, sleeping pills and heavy drinking had made my body more susceptible to bruising and scarring without even trying. I was covered in bruises on my arms & thighs. Deep purple mixed with yellow and bits of red. I cataloged each cluster with a photograph. My veins in my wrists jumped out where they used to be hidden. My scars from trying are sitting close but not close enough from my goal.

I got my first tattoos 2 years ago. Keyholes on my wrists representing God having possession of my life and it is His to take, and St. Peter has the keys to Heaven so he has a place to open my body to receive my soul. (pictured)

When I lost my child August 2008, I bled for the first time not wanting the blood to leave me. Eventually, I left that so-called man after he left me. I was so weak and stupid. Now I refer to him as Stupid.

When the man I loved proclaimed to me that he would make me his wife, I knew one day I'd have to show him everything I'd been through that made me this way and I was in pain because I was terrified that he would go away if when he saw all my damages. He's still here, still learning about me and I him. I'm still get scared but he calms me down when I am and puts things into perspective. He helps me kill my want to hurt myself.

A year ago, I finally got my official diagnosis and medication evaluation for bipolar disorder added to my post traumatic stressed disorder, clinical depression, anxiety, psychosis and self-mutilation. Most people don't know this about me because I'm so happy all the time. I really am happy most of the time.

Now I look back at all my scars, all my pictures of me sliced and bruised and I can't help but love them all despite their dark creation. Every piece of me that is gone, every part of me that became a piece of me was my journey. The fact that so many of those things that scarred me before aren't here not makes me rejoice that, for the most part, they can't hurt me anymore. I'm not perfect and I harmed myself and others beyond repair in some aspects but I've prevented a lot of pain in my education. I'm still trying to learn not to hurt myself but to accept whatever pain does come from life that I need to confront and stop before it gives me anymore scars to look at.

(I still am totally accepting and welcoming of any bruising if it happens, though)
(pictured)