Two years ago, I made a brave decision that would ultimately impact the way I live my life. I looked at myself long and hard in the mirror, made a cup of tea, and sat in my bed with my journal. I wrote down all of the things I liked and disliked about myself. Of all the things on the dislike list, one was haunting me and begging to be changed. I finally decided that I was going to stop self-harming.
When I was sixteen years old, I was first hit with a mound of depression and anxiety that I still struggle with to this day. As a junior in high school, I was battling to function. The weight of the world was on my shoulders with college, careers, and adult-life vastly approaching. I couldn't handle the pressure anymore and stopped going to school. I only socialized with those close to me, but soon began to isolate myself from them as well. My anxiety was telling me bad things would happen if I stepped outside my front door, and my depression was telling me that I wasn't good enough to even try to step out the front door. That voice of depression was loud and clear in my head, ever so repeating itself at the most inopportune times. I could no longer ignore that voice, and began to self-harm.
These episodes of self-harm lasted from age sixteen to age nineteen. I was struggling with self-esteem issues and any time my mental illness flared up, I could only find "relief" through cutting or bruising. I tried my hardest to hide it from anyone that saw me, feeling ashamed in myself for the marks that it would leave. It continued to get worse, to the point where people couldn't help but notice. I was embarrassed, which in returned fueled the self-esteem issues. It was a never ending cycle. In the summer, I couldn't wear t-shirts or shorts. I found myself making up excuses such as "I fell down the stairs" or "the cat scratched me". These excuses no one believed, but I did not want to talk about it with anyone. I wanted to be left alone, thinking that I was using the right way to cope.
I watched myself slowly go more and more into a downwards spiral. I was self-harming to numb the thoughts that told me I was not good enough, and that I would never amount to anything worthy. Yet, the thoughts just grew stronger the more I continued to do it. I completely and utterly hated myself. I was my own worst enemy on a destructive path that didn't seem to have an end. Finally, on a cold day in January after an episode, I decided enough was enough. I saw the damage that I had done to myself, and made a choice to fight the demons I was facing. After three long years, I realized the only way out was to try and love myself. I felt as though this was something I had to do, and I knew it wasn't going to be anywhere near easy.
Today, I can proudly say that I am two years self-harm free. I still am in a constant battle with myself and my thoughts, but I no longer succumb to them like I once did. I can fight back the urge and I have realized why self-harm will never be the thing that will "complete" me. I no longer feel as though I deserve to inflict pain on myself or be covered in ugliness. I still see the imperfections that I hold, but I now choose to accept them. I realized that loving yourself is not about becoming "perfect". It is instead a way to see the flaws that we hold as humans and choose to love ourselves anyways.
I still carry the scars with me that I, myself, have made. They are ever so slowly fading, but still quite noticeable. I no longer fight to hide them. They are now a part of me and a part of my story. When people point them out, I gladly tell them that I am in a better place with a better mindset. My scars symbolize the internal battle I know now I will never have to face again in that same way. They are not fresh wounds on the surface, but rather a picture of yet another time in life I pushed through. They are a reminder that no matter how dark the night gets, or how cold the winter grows, there is always a chance at a new beginning.
