Thanksgiving ended with nine cop cars an ambulance and a firetruck.

How ironic is it that the day you are supposed to be thankful is the day you could have lost it all? My cousin has schizophrenia and had a mental breakdown which caused him to try and kill my grandma and three little cousins. This caused my grandma to have a stroke a week later. Long story short there were seven people staying in a three bedroom apartment with two people in wheelchairs. This is why I decided to cut.

Naturally the chaos would send me running for comfort. I was searching for love. At that moment love was a four letter word with each letter representing a happy memory. Love was safe. Now those letters are scars with each scar representing the memory that couldn’t last. For two years I thought off and on about some boy being my solace, but actually he was my destruction. We tried again and again. I couldn’t get him out of my head. I won’t deny it; I was in love. With my world falling apart I saw that love as a beacon of light guiding me to safety. That light didn’t lead me to safety, it led to more destruction. Now I found myself alone in the back of a cop car all because the boy in possession of my heart was keeping it safe in his pocket, next to the marijuana he held just as close. As he ran away he dropped my heart along the way, scattering the pieces. My hero was now my villain. My protector was now another scar on my thigh.

As if the tower of emotions wasn’t high enough to topple over, there were still people building behind my back. The two people still in my corner were my best friends. From sleeping with my brother and vandalizing my car they had their hands full. How stupid of me to think they took the knife out of my hand to save me, when in reality they just wanted to reposition it in my back.

Since Thanksgiving I haven’t had a chance to breathe. I’ve been suffocating myself with the emotions. I have been trapped in my own misery. What better way to escape than with a blade? I had always told myself I would never self-harm. But there I was just sitting on the floor in the bathroom. I was so numb. I couldn’t even feel the cold tile. I found some hair clippers and opened them up. The moment the blade touched my thigh I felt it. The cold metal, the sharp edge. I had to keep going. If this was the only thing I could feel I couldn’t just let it go. Every time I’d start to bleed I would make another cut. Maybe if I cut deep enough the feeling will come back. Ultimately cutting was something I could control. I chose how deep to go, I chose how long to make the scar, I chose when to stop. No one else could hurt me if I was the one causing the pain. I went on to self-harm two more times, resulting in over 20 scars on my thighs. The problem is it didn’t last. Even though I put away the blade I was still being stabbed with shame whenever I see my reflection.

Do I regret self harming? No, I don’t. Yes, I still feel ashamed when I get out of the shower and look in the mirror. And hell yeah I still shake to the core at the thought of summer approaching and not being able to wear shorts anymore. But I wholeheartedly stand by my decision to cut. Because that same decision lead me to stop. I subconsciously chose my thighs not my wrists. I didn’t realize how deep I had or had not went. I had so many opportunities to completely shut it all off. It would take less than 5 seconds to make those two little cuts. To find a vain and just let it all out. I didn’t. I talked about it instead. Here’s the part where I ride off into the sunset on a white horse. Nope. Or is it the part where I wake up with a smile and birds help me get dressed? Not that one either. Here’s the part where I tell you some days it’s hard. There are still mornings where I wake up and struggle to find motivation to move. There are still times when I cry because I’m overwhelmed. Changing medication and making a safety plan doesn’t mean everything’s fixed. Cutting back work hours and see my therapist more often doesn’t equal me being “okay.”

I’m still struggling. But that means I’m still breathing.