Things I'm Afraid To Tell You..........

I'm going to jump on the "things I'm afraid to tell you" bandwagon along with hundreds of other bloggers.  I tried to talk myself out of it.  And I know this will indeed be the hardest thing I have ever attempted to write.  But I think it's a good thing......everyone needs to hear that people face the same struggles and challenges they do.  Even if my struggles are different than yours, it is sometimes helpful to know that you are not the only one struggling.  You are not alone.  If what I say helps just one person, then the trepidation I feel writing this will have been worth it.  :)

Sooo (deep breath) here goes nothing......

Here is my confession.......I hated myself from the youngest age I can remember.  Why?  Lots of reasons.  None that are relevant in the telling of this.  I think that once such a deep-rooted hate for yourself takes hold in your life, it takes over completely.  It is all-consuming.  I couldn't overcome it.  In fact, by the time I reached my teenage years, I actually thought it was quite normal.  I, of course, now know that it was anything but normal.  But the fact is it was my normal.  I never contemplated suicide....nothing like that.  Basically, I just hated me.  I know all girls say things about disliking certain parts of the their bodies, etc.  But that isn't what I'm talking about.....that is part of it, maybe....but I'm not talking about hating cellulite....I'm talking about a hate for myself as a whole, as a person.  My hate ran deep and I myself didn't fully understand it.  I grew up in a good home with loving parents.  I had a lot of friends.  But when it was just me....alone....the hate that I tried to suppress when around other people would completely take over.  While I was thankful to be alive and healthy, I also dreaded waking up each morning and starting a new day.  I never really admitted to myself or anyone else that there was a problem.  Therefore, I didn't get the help that I probably needed (counseling). 

If you read my last blog post, you probably noticed I talked about being bulimic.  I was.  For several years in my mid to late 20's.  I could give you a list of reasons why.....but I'm not sure the why's matter.  I got sick.  I knew I had to stop.  And I did stop.  I felt a sense of pride in overcoming something that had taken such control of my life.  And for a while I seemed to hold myself together.  I inevitably gained weight.....but I still held myself together.  But the thing about hate is it's kind-of like having a disease....and when the symptoms stop, you stop taking medicine or being treated because you think you are all better because there are no symptoms.  Only you are in fact still sick.  (metaphorically speaking)

Approximately one year after having myself together (if only in my own mind), I had a particularly bad day.  I locked myself in my bathroom and sat in the floor and cried for literally hours.  Not just tears-running-down-my-face crying.  But full-blown sobbing, heaving, can't-breath, rocking-back-and-forth crying.  I don't remember making a decision to hurt myself.....I don't remember the exact moment I picked up a razor and thought "hey, I'll cut myself to feel better".  All I know is that I did take a razor.....and I did slice deep into the bend of my arm.  I sat alone in my bathroom floor and watched blood flow.  And I never felt an ounce of pain.  In fact, I felt better.  I wasn't attempting suicide.  I know anatomy.....I was fully aware of where not to cut.  As bizarre as it sounds, bleeding made me feel better.....it made me feel, period.  And that's what I seemed to be needing.  To just feel.  I cleaned my wound....bandaged myself up....and wore long sleeves for weeks until I healed.  But it wasn't long before the same thing happened again.....and again....and again.  And again.  Not always with razors.....as a matter of fact, rarely with razors.  I cut myself with just about every sharp object you can imagine......I'll spare you the details.  I only cut my arms.  And I  cut myself a lot.  At any given time I could have as many as five-six wounds on my arms.  But who would know?  No one.  I always wore long sleeves.  I even got to a point where I would dig at my gums with sharp objects to make them bleed.  I was always the same Amy at work and with friends/family and in public that I had always been.....I always seemed happy (and lets face it, sarcastic....the norm for me).  But when I was home alone and having a hard day, I would hurt myself.  It was my secret.  For a long time it was my own little secret.  After a couple of years, people began noticing scars on my arms.....and sometimes fresh cuts.  I would lie about getting injured and change the subject.  I stopped going to the dentist for my six month cleanings because I was afraid of being questioned about any marks that would be visible on my gums.  But I have a couple of very observant friends......two, in fact, that I owe my life to.  Brandie and Jennifer.  Apparently my secret hadn't been as secret as I thought.....because they had caught on to me.  And shortly after they caught on, so did my parents and my sister and my aunt.  At the urging of people who love me very much, I went to counseling.  And I began to understand that hating myself was not the normal that I had believed it to be.  I began to finally see myself as being worthy of life.....a life without hate....a life where I could love me. 

Was my road to being okay with myself easy?  Nope....not even close.  Can I tell you, the audience that I can't see, that I'm all better today?  Nope.  But I can tell you that I am better than I used to be.  I can tell you that I have come a long, long way.  And I can tell you that I am now mostly okay with me.  I wish I could tell you that I gave up cutting and never picked it back up again.....like I did with the eating disorder.  But I can't honestly say that.  I am a work in progress.  I don't hurt myself often.  Maybe once a year....maybe twice.  No one is more disappointed in me than I am myself when I slip up.  Right or wrong, it became my coping mechanism for feelings that I didn't know what to do with.  Yes, counseling helped.  But it's a daily struggle.  I have heard people who have suffered from addictions talk about daily struggles overcoming their addictions.  Well.....I guess cutting myself is my addiction.....it's my outlet....it's the way I deal with my negative feelings.  It just happens to be something that no one really talks about.  Sooooo, I'm talking about it. 

So this is what I'm afraid to tell you........I am 35 years old and I have spent the last 6 years struggling with cutting myself.  You will likely never see me in short sleeves.....even in 100 degree heat.  I have scars....some not so noticeable, and some downright ugly.  Doing normal things like putting on yoga clothes and going to yoga are a struggle for me because I know people can see scars all over my arms.  I have seen my parents cry over seeing my arms.  I have seen my sister cry.  I have seen my aunt cry.  I have seen Brandie and Jennifer cry.  I have seen a couple of other friends cry.  I have broken their hearts.....because they love me.  They have loved me when I couldn't love myself.  And for that I am thankful.  Because we all need a cheering section when we don't feel we can hold our own head up.  We all need people to love us when we don't love ourselves.  And we all need people that make us a better person.  I once happened up on a quote that said "Scars are like stories, history written on the body."  For me, that quote is absolutely true.  Unfortunately, a lot of my scars do tell a story.....they are sad daily reminders of when I was struggling with something in particular or having a bad day. 

Most of you that are reading this have known me for years and years.....some close friends and some acquaintances.  I can almost guarantee that you never looked at me and ever thought for a second that I had arms full of scars from self-inflicted cuts.  People don't advertise their shame.  I'm sure you thought I was happy....you saw me joke a lot....you saw me help others....you listened to my sarcasm.  But my point is, you never guessed that while I love everyone I meet, the one person I could never love was myself.  And you never thought that I was literally at war with myself.  Now this is what I would ask you to think about........how many other people do you see, are friends with, or are related to that could be just like me?  How many people do you encounter every single day that are a couple of wrong words away from their breaking point?  This is what I know for a fact.....people that talk about their problems constantly, make a point to dramatically complain about depression and anxiety, and tell everyone they meet that they want to die?  Those are the people seeking attention.....and while they may have problems, they are gonna be just fine.  But the ones that are the most dangerous to themselves are the people like me......the ones that make a point to fly under the radar....the ones you least suspect....the ones that are smart enough to not get caught.....the ones that never tell a soul what they are going through....the ones that focus all their time and energy on helping others so as to avoid dealing with their own problems.  Because we are truly ashamed.  And I guarantee you that you encounter these people every single day.....at work, at the grocery store, and maybe even some of your closest friends.  I can't tell you what signs to look for.....I wish I could, then maybe together we could fix the world.  All I can tell you is to be kind to others because we are all in this life together. 
Here are the lyrics to a song....one that I have cried to more times than I could possibly count....one that describes my struggles.  (my blog playlist isn't working right now so the song lyrics are the best I can do)

Breathe Me by Sia:

Help, I have done it again
I have been here many times before
Hurt myself again today
And, the worst part is there's no-one else to blame

Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
I'm needy
Warm me up
And breathe me

Ouch I have lost myself again
Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found,
Yeah I think that I might break
I've lost myself again and I feel unsafe

Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
I'm needy
Warm me up
And breathe me

  

My heart breaks for people that are struggling in any way......but my heart is especially broken by young girls who are trying to live up to society's expectations, their families expectations, their friends expectations, etc.  It sickens me and makes me terribly sad.  I have a lot of friends with daughters.  I know parenting advice coming from someone with no children probably seems nonsensical......but if you are blessed enough to be the parent of a daughter, I ask you to do me a favor.  Tell her she is beautiful just like she is.  Never, ever criticize her looks.  She will gain weight....she will loose weight....she may gain weight again....but she's beautiful.  Tell her she is smart.  Teach her to be a strong person, to always speak her mind, to never let anyone run over her, and to never back down when she knows she's right.  Don't criticize her for things that won't matter later.....let her show her individuality.  I'm not telling you this to reflect negatively on my own parents.....my parents are wonderful.  I'm saying this because you can't even check out at the grocery store without seeing super-skinny, airbrushed celebrities and models on the covers of all the magazines and I want your daughters to know that is not the norm.  I want your daughters to know that they are okay whether they grow up to be a size 4 or a size 24.  I want them to know that freckles are unique and beautiful.  I want them to know that tan isn't beautiful.....they can be pale and beautiful.  I want them to know that blemishes suck but they happen....and they will still be rearing their ugly heads into adulthood.....but they are still beautiful girls.  I want them to know that the girls their age that they may think are beautiful will spend too much time in the sun and look like hell well before their time.  I want them to know that who you are in high school is irrelevant in the real world.  I want them to know that they will make their own way and be successful.....whether they grow up to be an attorney or work as a waitress.  I want them to know that all forms of eating disorders are very unhealthy and can have consequences that last a lifetime....I am proof.  I want them to know that breasts come in all shapes and sizes and not to compare yourself to other girls.....be proud of you and what you have.  I want them to know that stretch marks happens.....and cellulite happens.....but you are still so beautiful.  I want them to know that they are beautiful whether their teeth are straight or have a few gaps.  And as the parent's of daughters, I would advise you to never assume their silence and moodiness is due to hormones.  Ask questions.  Don't take shoulder shrugs and "I don't knows" for answers.  Ask your daughter about her feelings....her true feelings.  Yes, I know you are busy with work and children and husbands and life.....but don't take her word for it....don't assume her "I'm okay" means that she's okay just because you are too busy to slow down and really listen.  Watch for signs that something is wrong.  Hey, you are a parent.....I am sure you know all these things.  And I feel silly for having no children and attempting to give you parenting advice.  But my parents asked questions.  And I flew right under their radar.  Girls are masters at acting.....it's very easy for us to fly under your radar.  Be persistent. 

This is what I want everyone to know....cutting/self injury has a serious stigma attached to it.  People associate it with those who have a Gothic/Emo lifestyle.....or with people who are "crazy" and seeking attention.   That is simply not true.  People don't realize that it is in fact a problem for all ages, genders, and lifestyles. Three million Americans engage in some form of self injury.  An estimated two million Americans purposely cut or burn themselves and 90% of self injurers begin cutting as teenagers.  The average self injurer begins at age 14 and continues with increasing severity into their late twenties. The most common professions are teachers, nurses and managers. Self injury is prevalent in all races and economic backgrounds.  Although most self injurers are women, a significant number are men.  Most people who self injure are not trying to commit suicide, instead using self injury as a coping mechanism.  Self injury does become an addiction as it helps you feel better for a short period of time.  Although there are a few exceptions, most people who self harm aren't "crazy". They just have a lot of inner stress that needs to be released and they don't have any other way to release it than hurt themselves. The most common reasons for self injury are not knowing how to deal with stress, an unresolved history of abuse, low self esteem, feelings of loneliness or fear, a need to feel in control, depression, anxiety, and obsessive compulsive disorder.  I will be totally honest and tell you my reasons.....stress, low self esteem, a need to be in control, axiety and OCD. 

I have rambled for far too long.  My apologies if I've bored you.  If you stuck it out and read my looooong post, then thank you.  This was very, very hard for me.....but like I said earlier, if I can help just one person then it's all worth it.  I didn't write this for sympathy of any kind.  I'm okay.  I wrote it to maybe, possibly make people aware of a problem that they didn't realize could exist right under their noses.  Just last week I was talking to a friend who was struggling and she said to me "I wish I could be like you and have your confidence and just say what's on my mind".  And guess what.....this was the story I had to tell her.  We all have stories to tell.....use yours to help someone. 

I'm going to publish this post now, before I chicken out.  I'm leaving you with more song lyrics......this is what I'm striving for.....
I’m a good man with a good heart
Had a tough time, got a rough start
And I finally learned to let it go
Now I’m right here, and I’m right now
And I’m hoping, knowing somehow
That my shadow days are over
My shadow days are over now