painkillercarly

Many people don’t understand and refuse to acknowledge any type of self-mutilation. It interferes with their perfect world and perfect life. There is no room for the abused and depressed children of their world. No time to listen when the truth is to hard. It’s an addiction. For me, an addiction I had for almost 3 years now that I’m working to destroy before it destroys me. Instead of being quiet about it, I’m speaking out and breaking down my walls in order to accept myself and my pain. And finally heal. It’s hard to deal with the scorn when I’m struggling to believe in myself and be faced with discrimination when I’m forcing myself to talk about it.
I cut and burned my body in order to release the memories of being abused, to feel alive, in hatred for myself, and because it was easily concealed. Many will never completely heal and when I wear skirts, I am constantly regarded with looks of utter disgust and fear. My wrist burns and gashes continue to fade and after a year, I finally removed my wristband that I wore to swim, shower, an attend my life in. At my high school homecoming dance, I was ashamed to have to coat my shoulders in powder to hide the scabs. I used razors meant for wood carving for the words inscribed into the underside of my wrist and steak knives for the most intense gashes, incense sticks for the longest lasting pain and deeper burns, and a heated chisel for the darkest burns. I would turn my music up to loud, and stuff a sock in my mouth to muffle the screaming.
It’s been 2 months since my last “fix”, and for me, that’s an amazing accomplishment. I want to be clean for a year before getting my tattoo of a phoenix to represent my freedom.
Someday I will be healed.

My dream was to go to Disney World someday, but I knew my family could never afford it, so I kept my desire silent. As I grew out of the Disney movie stage, I began to lose hope of ever living out my childhood dream. My classmates would rave about staying in fancy hotels for the whole summer and meeting Mickey Mouse, but all I could think about was stepping foot inside the gates for a few hours. Once upon a time, I got my wish.
On a cruise ending in the Bahamas, I not only got to step inside the gates, but spend 6 hours in my wonderland. With such pricey tickets, only me and my older brother were able to go, but it was more than I could have ever asked for. I was thrilled just to wait in line to get on the transports to the park.
I was suffering alone in my depression at the time, recent pain still to fresh in my eyes, and my first glimpse of Cinderella’s castle brought the tears bubbling to my eyes in a rush. I was a blithering mess, but the sight cut right through the darkness. The beauty was so innocent, the happiness to real, I was a kid again. No more worries, no more fear. I was content just to be able to set sight on such a place of dreams. I never thought it could be possible. After so long, such a simple thing that most people take for granted, made me believe in being happy again.

At first I was reluctant to go horseback riding. I was utterly convinced it would be a waste of my time. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
I started in the fall riding in the laid-back Western style and after a month or so, switched to the disciplined English style. By the beginning of the summer, I started with the smallest jumps. It was nerve wracking at first, painful in the unbalanced landing, but the few seconds in air were indescribable to me. I hadn’t felt such joy since the beginning of the abuse. I left for that house that summer and only my body returned.
Halfway through the year, my family had enough money for lessons again, and I returned with a heavy but determined heart.
Yet again, by the summer, I was up to cantering. Which is a fast paced, extended run where you are balanced upright in the air on your heels, with your hands supporting you on the horse’s neck.
It is purely exhilerating.
My smile hadn’t been so genuine, so full of life, well, I couldn’t even remember when. It was stretched across my face in an idiotic grin, my eyes dancing wildly with the rush of adrenaline, and heart pratically bursting in my happiness. There was no more fear eroding my mind, the pain clouding my soul had withdrawn, I never wanted to let go.
Yet after stirring my horse into a gallop, I lost my balance and slid to the side. Yelping in surprise before hitting the ground, I managed to hold on and laugh in relief as the horse slowed. My trainer freaked, but I nothing got passed my glowing face.