Shit happens. In life, it is the only thing that is certain, other than death. Depressing? Tell me about it. I can guarentee that everyone has had some sort of crap go on in their life and if you say no, then we evidently know whose pants are on fire. Sometimes, the amount of shit thats been dumped on you is so great that you’re drowning in it, choking, losing breath. Yeah, I’ve been there.
We all need an emotional outlet. Mine is music. I put it on, raise the volume, sing and dance and wail to my hearts content. And I feel better for it, because with every word I sing its like I’m emptying all the shit out into the air. But that’s my outlet. Everyone has something different.
I can’t say I’ve ever self-harmed. I haven’t and I don’t think I could. It sounds weird but I think it takes a sort of courage to self harm. I couldn’t willingly carve a line into my flesh with something sharp, for I know it’s going to hurt and I’m afraid of that. I also can’t say that I understand everything about those who self harm. But I can say something. I can say I won’t judge.
I know people who’ve self harmed. And from what they tell me, the pain is a release from … everything. That they feel hurt, scared, afraid, lonely, angry, betrayed and it’s all building and building and it’s hitting a dam and it can’t get out and it’s fighting for freedom and it’s choking you and you can’t breath and then….. relief. Oh, I’ve been down. I’ve been so depressed that I couldn’t lift a leg out of bed, for all the emotional baggage weighing me down. But I haven’t been that far gone.
And I can understand why some people do judge. Because, it’s unhealthy isn’t it? Because it can have dire consequences. Because it’s scary walking in on your best friend covered in blood. I’m not going to turn around and say to someone, ‘Oh you’re depressed? I know a way to deal with that, here’s a knife.’ I don’t think it should be encouraged, because sometimes you can go a step too far.
But I know that if I see someone with scars on their wrists, I do not have the right to judge them. There is a heart breaking story behind every line. And I wasn’t there inside their head through every moment of their life, watching their decisions and knowing their reasons and watching them cause harm to themselves. I WASN’T THERE. So, how can I look at them and judge? Well, I don’t know their story. Hell, sometimes I don’t even know my own. And as I said earlier, self-harm takes courage. Do I have that courage? Hell, no. So they can wear their badge of honour, they can bravely show it to those who will listen to their story.They’ve survived. They should be proud.
And I will stand back. I will watch. I will listen. I’ll tell them to stay strong and keep fighting. And I won’t judge.