I've never been a cutter...ever. However, I have immense empathy for those that do. My first exposure to it was in college. A sweet guy from Newcastle, we shared a bed, just held each other all night. I thought how incredible he was he never pushed his sexual agenda. Next morning he showed me his scars. I was 20 and I completely flipped out and dashed down to my friend's room.
This was foreign to me, this was new, this was terrifying. I suspect my instincts were solid, although I handled it badly. He was a sweet man who felt comfortable enough to share his most secret history. I abandoned him, I ran, without stopping to think and ask "why?" Yes, I was a kid, I was inexperienced and I was selfish. Today, it would be a very different situation. I have been through so much trauma, I would now sit up and listen to the sweet gentle giant from Newcastle. Not suggesting there was a relationship in the wings, but certainly a dialogue. I let that man down. He reached out, I pushed back so hard he fell over the precipice.
Something similar happened last night. I reached out. I bared my 'scars' and instead was met with compassion beyond compare. Complete stranger's as well as trusted friends and intimate loves, the latter two I was beginning to shut out from simple fear, reached out. The crowd gathered around me and circled me like a comforting quit.
I have never been a cutter, but I understand those that do. Numbness needs a razor blade. We cut when on our own, I choose not to be on my own anymore.
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