I started reading an article about suicide. I started to cry. No particular reason. I just did. For many reasons surely. Not one in particular. But if there was one in particular it would be X.
X moved in with me a while back. About a year ago actually. She has maybe 50 or more scars, very visible ones on her arms. She is probably the sweetest person I have ever met in my life. She is an amazing singer and poet.
Before we met, she used to cut almost every day. To try to stop her pain.
The other day I was treating her badly. Not to hurt her, but because I was in so much pain myself. I couldn't think about her pain. So I turned my back on her.
We were sitting. There. I will always remember the spot.
Just as I will always remember the other spot where I saw someone I care about self-harming. Hurting herself. In that case though, I was not responsible for her pain. In this case I was.
In this case. I was responsible. Or let's say I take responsibility. I was responsible in the sense that I could have easily prevented it. Well, not easily. Not any easier than swimming when I am paralyzed and strappped into a wheelchair. But I know what I mean. If, if only... then I could have prevented it.
But I didn't. I couldn't for whatever reason or reasons. So finally, as I sat there with my back to her, I heard her sobs. This awoke me from my nightmare. I turned. To see her arm bleeding. It was her left arm. Several cuts. The blood was bright red. Never had I seen something like that before in my life.
I knew how much pain she was in. I immediately hugged her. She accepted the hug. I held her. We started to talk. I helped her find a place to clean up the blood. It was over. But the memory lasts. As it should.
So maybe that is why I started to cry when I read the article. Or maybe it was just part of the reason.
She used to cut a lot when she lived under her the control of her parents and teachers. She moved out when she was 18. In the past year she has only cut a few times. Each time it was because of pain from our relationship problems.
She could have hit me that day. Other girls would have. She could have shouted at me. Other girls would have. She could have tried to hurt me. Other girls would have. And they have, many times in the past. But she didn't. Instead she hurt herself.
Please, anyone who reads this. Remember that. Never, ever forget it.
People who cut hurt themselves to avoid hurting others.
Not always. But usually.
Just please remember that. Before you start to judge someone who cuts.