So, it's time for a little back story. I'm baring my soul. This post is not meant to be a pity request, but a celebration of my triumph over the trials I was given by God to overcome. Please click out if there is to be any negativity surrounding this. I'm serious. This is the beginning of my new blog series to come about between my regular blogs.
Alrighty, here goes.
When I was 14, I made a decision that would haunt me for the rest of my life. I gave in to an impulse. I took a safety pin and carved into my left forearm. I was so angry with God for making me "that girl". I was angry at Him for making me the child of a broken marriage. I was the nerd. I was the girl who just wanted a friend. I was the girl who went to church, but even there, I was rejected by humans. I felt like a stranger in my own species. I wanted to fit in, in any niche in which I could even have a partial fit. To tell you how angry I was at God, I carved a cross, right near the inside of my elbow. I fell into a niche that I never intended in which to be. It became an addiction--and quickly. I wanted to escape the pain in my heart and head, so I turned to an alternative that was pain, but physical, that I could overcome. I definitely was crying out for help. I was screaming so loudly, I took a picture, once, of my arm after I cut. I needed to escape the voices in my head(satan) telling me I wasn't good enough. I wanted to escape the voices in the crowd that didn't accept me. I tried to fit in. Then, I gave up. I copied everything my best friend did. I wore black. I dyed my hair dark, I did it all. The only thing I didn't copy, was cutting. We both were cutters, and it just so happened to have started around the same time. In my case, I happened to choose a new form of self mutilation. When I was a small child, anytime I would feel stress, anxiety, or anger, I would hurt myself. I would bite myself until I bruised. I would pull my hair 'til I had a headache. I would hit myself. I would scratch myself. My parents fought quite a bit, so whenever there was tension, I would hurt myself. Then came teen years and sharp objects. First it was the safety pins. Then it was a blade from an eye pencil sharpener. After that, I stole a straight edge blade from my dad's box cutters. Once, it was a steak knife. Fortunately, I have decent skin, and there is very little evidence that I ever did this to myself. My wrists are scar tissue, but it's not obvious. One of the 1400 reasons I used, and still do, is that I was battling with my sexual orientation. I was being told I was wrong for even giving the thoughts the positive time of day. My heart said I was right. The Southern mentality said I was wrong. My church said I was wrong. So I punished myself for not being "normal". I was suicidal. I was not happy, in the slightest. 9 months after my last suicide attempt, I was caught. My cry was heard. I mentioned to my English teacher that I loved to write poetry, and I'd love for her to read it. I ended up giving her my diary. Due to a law held by every state, yet seldom enforced, I had to see a school psychologist. I had become a threat to myself and others. My mandatory reporter got me help. The turning point on this day? I had another suicide attempt planned--except I hadn't planned an attempt. I had a shard of glass about 1 1/2 inches wide and 3 inches long. I think you can figure out the rest. I hadn't planned to go back to my house that day. I was searched by the school officer. I was checked by the school nurse. Within 5 months, I was cut free. I have been, not only cut free but, mutilation free, for 5 years. I have had major temptation. The fights I had with the ex used to make my arms burn. I never gave in. When I graduated high school, I had a conversation with my Guncle, and again with my Aunt. I told both of them that I was really glad I got the opportunity to graduate. That was where the real congrats were deserved. They hadn't the slightest clue of my suicidal tendencies, thoughts, attempts, or mutilation. I have overcome so much in 5 years. As mentioned in my testimony, I ran from God. I never intended to run so far away. God had, and still has, a plan, and He knew that I would go, but He also knew that I would come back. I can only imagine what my life would have been life without His interventions. I know that I would not be the person you see today. I would be doing drugs, very broke, and probably homeless. I'd be in the depths of hell on Earth. I am a happier person now and I will be even happier tomorrow. I don't have the obvious evidence, but I can show you if you want to see. My scars remind me that the past is real, and without that reminder, I would not appreciate the progress I have made. I love my life because God is back in it, and that's perfectly fine with me. I love the family I have acquired in God. I can wake up everyday, knowing that it will be a good day, no matter what. Okay, so now I feel like I haven't made any sense, because I have had no structure except punctuation in this blog. But that is another blog for another time.
Until next time, peace and love
May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
The rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of his hand.
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