The Life You Save May Be Your Own

DID, knitting, sci-fi, and strong opinions

Scarred July 6, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — weordmyndum @ 2:22 am
Tags: , , ,

Yes, I have scars.  Big ones.  Lots of them.


Whatever.  Get over it already.


I got interrogated about my scars by two of the employees at my favorite sushi place when I went to pick up my takeout order earlier tonight.  I was wearing short sleeves, but my keen cultural observations tell me that this is common practice in places where it’s 90 degrees outside.


“What happened to your skin?”

*check to make sure I don’t have crazy kung fu bruises or anything* “Uh…it’s a long story.”

“Did you get hurt?”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Were you skiing down a mountain?”

*make a WTF face* “No, I don’t know how to ski.”


I have never been gladder to get my takeout and get the hell out.


It’s been a long time since I’ve been interrogated about my scars.  Granted, most of the people I see on a daily basis are either psych professionals or psych patients, but still.  I don’t expect that from random people on the street.  They stare, sure.  It makes me self-conscious and ashamed, but I’m used to that.  But generally people have the decency not to say anything.


I mean, they’re pretty obviously self-inflicted.  It’s hard to look at them and not know I did it to myself.


I’d gotten to the point where I was mostly okay going out in short sleeves, but now…self-consciousness and shame overload.  I’m meeting tomorrow with somebody from the local Obama campaign about volunteering, and I might also be meeting with a defense attorney about doing some legal research work for him.  I hadn’t really thought much about the clothes, but now I feel the need to cover up all my scars.  That would mean, however, wearing long pants and long sleeves, and it’s supposed to be 93 tomorrow.  So I don’t think I will.  Probably people will have the decency not to ask…but maybe they won’t.


I wish I could have a redo.  Then again, I honestly don’t think I could’ve done it differently.  I needed the self-harm because, for a long time, it was the only coping skill I had.  The trauma was so severe and pervasive that normal coping skills couldn’t come close to helping.  I think if I hadn’t self-harmed, I would’ve killed myself, and I really am glad that didn’t happen.


I’ve tried to embrace them as battle scars or whatever, but honestly I find that trite and stupid.  They’re not battle scars; they’re scars from tearing myself to pieces with any sharp thing I could find, over and over and over for more than half my life.  I wish I didn’t have the scars, but I’m not sorry that this was how I survived.


5 Responses to “Scarred”

  1. brandic32 Says:

    Yes, you did what you had to do to survive. People who stare or ask or judge can go f%#! themselves. The scars are nothing to be ashamed of.

  2. Bourbon Says:

    You got to that point of not being ashamed or self conscious? Def stay there. Don’t let this little hiccup throw you back. I still wear long sleeves and jumpers to hide mine. And trousers. Always trousers. I get very very hot. I dread the summer for that reason alone! I had a teenager once ask me why I looked like a zebra :/ good luck with tomorrow x

  3. hollowvessels Says:

    Covering is torture in summer. Make up can kinda hide them, or at least lessen the appearance, if it’s done right. I tried it a few times and it was just too obvious that I was wearing make-up on my arms, and that too looks a bit weird. Like Bourbon said, try not let this throw you back. People like the ones who served you are either extremely sheltered or rude tbh.

  4. UGH! people sticking their nose into business which is not theirs really makes me mad. And then their comments., the stupid comments. They don’t have anything better to do?

    Stupid people..
    I’m sorry you have to go through this with them!

  5. You are so brave to go with the short sleeves and pants. I still refuse to wear anything that shows any part of my thighs (where I self-harm), even in the over 100 degree weather we had here last week.

    I admire that you can listen to people ask you about them and just toss back a non-commital type response. Being asked about mine still triggers me big time (not to mention the waves of guilt and self-hatred).

    I’m glad to have stumbled across another mid 20s gal into Doctor Who, knitting, and dogs 🙂


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