She and I work for a large grocery store chain. One of the biggest on the planet. She is easily 35 years younger than me, if not more. I would describe her as quirky and withdrawn. She mumbles, and moves slowly. She is an amazingly talented artist. I’ve seen her working on drawings and sketches in the breakroom during lunch. Im always fascinated by people who can draw, since I suck at it and would love to have the talent, and have complimented her work once or twice. Her face lit up with a smile both times. Yesterday, we were outside loading groceries into a customers vehicle, and I caught a glimpse of her right forearm when her jacket sleeve slid up. There were probably twenty or more scars, some healed, some still healing.
I was shocked. I don’t know why. I don’t understand cutting and I don’t judge her…shes as human as you and me, and it is her coping technique. I guess seeing how talented she is made me think she was stronger than she is…I couldn’t cut myself, I fear being cut, and don’t understand the psychology behind it.
I rarely work with her. Her crew was short staffed yesterday and I was asked to help. She used to annoy me. She works slowly and is difficult to understand because she speaks so quietly but for a few seconds I saw her frail, damaged humanity, and my heart broke for her. I will always go out of my way to acknowledge her from now on. In a world of suffering and apathy, she hurts.
3 comments
I have seen people who clearly self harm and I just want to give them a hug and ask if they want to talk about it but I never do because I don’t know how self conscious they might be. And also I’m awkward/anxious socially so that too. I know I was self conscious of the cuts on my arm which is why my arms are safe now but that’s because so many people don’t understand. I’m sure she appreciates the kind words you’ve offered.
Great reminder on private suffering and how we hide it and misjudge others. Thanks for this. I’ve never purposely cut and for years never understood it, but now I understand it completely. I’ve had a few self destructive “accidents” that drew blood, and I’ve felt that painful high. Best way to describe it (in my case) is that it was like a moment of dehumanizing myself, of seeing my flesh and blood as just meat, and of momentarily feeling like I was something more than my worthless body which I took pleasure in destroying. No, I don’t cut but that’s only because I have chosen other means of self harm. Alcohol, drugs, smoking, starving or binging, hitting your head against a wall, punching a window, cutting. All the same, just a different tool. I feel really bad for the girl in your story. Sounds like she’s been suffering alone for a while.
I don’t know. She keeps to herself, and I get it. Im in this phase where I need to be around people who are honest and open about their mental health struggles, and when I saw her scars it just made me realize she’s struggling…and she doesn’t need the typical human bullshit we’re all so good at doling out. I don’t know. It is what it is. Thanks for your replies.