Today I was happy.
I went to the pool today with my assistant manager/close friend (I helped her recover after a very brutal divorce with her crack-addict lousy excuse for a husband.) Now normally when I have any cuts or scars on my legs, I tend to hide them. But today I said, “Fuck it! I’ll show them off and let them get some sun. Maybe they’ll fade out a little like the older ones.” I had an incident a few days ago that I’m none too proud of, but I decided to go nonetheless. When we got to the pool and the sun was shining in the sky, Teri finally got to see them.
The look she gave me.
“Rae, I don’t want you to do this anymore. I mean, I know a little bit of your story, but girl, I hate seeing you like this.”
This is the first time I’ve shown a friend a piece of my history and they actually asked me to stop.
I’ve shown my boyfriend, and mind you, he took it way better than I thought he would. I was going to keep it to myself, but after the incident where my best friend tried to kill herself, then dumped me over something so IDIOTIC IT HURTS, it just kind of came out. He asked me if I’d feel better if I showed him, so I did.
He winced when I pulled my pants down slightly above my knee caps.
“Does it hurt you? I won’t show you again if this is hurting you…”
“No. It’s alright. There are just a lot more than what I was expecting.”
Normally I would tell my (unfortunately now ex-) bestfriends when I cut and I would show them. They were very ‘understanding’ and on some occasions actually encouraged it. This bothered me. I wanted to stop. I had kept myself from doing it for 6 months until I started hanging out with them again. And then this shit happens. You wanna know what led me to it again? My bestfriend telling me I only ‘pretended I had moodswings so I would get attention and that’s why I hurt myself.’
So that night while staying at their house (parents were gone; we were house-sitting) I turned my music up as loud as I could in the bathroom and sliced my legs open with a pair of dirty ass scissors, screaming and crying. But I wouldn’t show them this time. I wasn’t going to let them know.
Later on they told me they heard me.
But they didn’t care enough to fucking help me.
So back to the pool, I digress. It struck me odd. Someone actually telling me (other than my boyfriend, but he still has a tiny bit of trouble dealing with it) to stop.
Since the arguments with my old friends, even though it’s been only a few days, I can see and feel the difference in myself.
I smiled today. A genuine smile. I told Aaron I was happy. And he hugged me. “I’m glad. You need to be happy.”
We’re moving in together in the next few months and he’s actually staying the night at my house for the first time since we’ve been together for almost 4 years. I’m almost giddy at the thought. And this, too, makes me happy.
I was burned to a crisp today, but it was worth it.
For the first time in months, I took a breath and exhaled a smile that was worth it.
Dear Universe, Lord, and Lady.
Please help me keep these feelings alive.
I hope all of you that come here wishing to end it tonight take a moment to stop and step out of yourself.
Like a movie frame. Pause your life for a second and really take a minute to analyze why it is you’re feeling so desperate to end everything.
It’s not you, love. It’s not your fault at all. And if you can find the root of that problem is, give it a big “FUCK YOU” and walk away with a proud smile. You don’t deserve to deal with that shit. Prove to yourself you’re above them, because if we’re anything alike, I know for a fact you are.
You are beautiful, handsome, intelligent, and worthy of living a hell of a lot more than the scumbags that currently reside on this Earth.
I hope you’ll be able to breath soon, too.