An Act Of Courage: Facing This Person Called ‘I’.
{Photo via Tumblr}
I look into the mirror, with big brown eyes reflecting an existence filled with pain.
I trace my finger across the scars on my stomach, a lifetime of hatred etched into my skin. I try to forget the ways in which I have lost myself along the way; the years of suicide attempts and a depression so deep I didn’t know if I would ever crawl back.
I was wearing wounds that were not mine to carry, truths that had gone unexpressed and found their way onto my skin. My feelings were buried so deep they were poisoning me. The truth of my self-harm disguised the hatred of a volatile father. As the pain broke the surface, it quickly dissipated in the slice of a razor.
The words sliced into my soul and it sought a physical release. I could not stop the hatred from swirling around my mind, altering my emotions and beliefs.
These words nudged me down a dark path, one where I was left without any value. I could no longer see myself clearly, as the hatred cloaked me and hid the light of my soul.
Although the pain of abuse was pertinent, my self-hatred almost took my life. Another may have placed the knife at my feet, but I took it and ran with it. I allowed the hatred of another to infiltrate my heart and soul, to change my fundamental self.
My mission became one of self-destruction, tearing both my character and body apart.
Now I am teetering on the edge, the line between self-hatred and self-love, attempting to enter the abyss whereby my heart and soul can finally heal. Where I can give myself the opportunity to enter into the fullness of who I am. I must be willing to reclaim myself and the parts of me that were slandered in the process.
Whilst self-harm is painful, self-love hurts ever more. It shines a light on all the ways I was inadequately loved in the past. It rubs salt in the wounds of an identity that is fractured and hurting. It reminds me of what could be — a potential I was so ready to give up due to the words of another.
It is time for me to begin speaking the truth so that I may pull this poison from my blood and bones. No longer can it be woven within the fabric of my life, creating disillusionment and destruction in its wake. I am willing to vouch for myself; perhaps I am worth more than I had believed.
Perhaps I can find that loving place within my heart that I long ago abandoned.
I will allow this fragile self to see the light of day first on these pages, and then with those I care about most.
I will weave a new story into the foundation of my life. One of a survivor who had the courage to heal and put down the razor. When I can finally believe I am worthy of all this life has to offer, regardless of who I have been and what I have done.
Releasing the razor is an act of courage.
Although I still have days that are more painful than others, I have hope. I believe that I will be able to start each day anew, attempting to live from a place of love for myself.
With the absence of the razor comes an important admission: I was not to blame for the abuse I suffered. His self-hatred had nothing to do with me.
I no longer need to carry this burden, and I am finally releasing it to its rightful owner.
*****
Cherish Osborne is an aspiring writer, blogger and healer who studied both Psychology and Social work in a former life. She is passionate about holistic healing and working with women to create the life of their dreams.Wander over and check out her blog.
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