Scars . . . and what they mean to me.

I get a lot of inquiries about my scars. I proudly display them and flaunt the name on Scar13.com, so it is no wonder people are curious. Here is an explanation, for everyone who was wondering but thought they would offend me by asking :-)

All of my scars are self inflicted. When I was younger I was the epitome of troubled youth, very unhappy and very manic-depressive. I took any pain I had in my life out on myself. By the time I was thirteen, I was cutting myself, not to the degree of scarring but mostly for the physical sensation. It is a distraction, you see. When I was in pain or bleeding, I never thought about what I was really feeling emotionally.

Long story short, I eventually got through this stage in my life. It took a lot of self realization though, and a lot of internal struggling. It was habit to hurt myself after so many years of doing it. One day after I had hit rock bottom. I had started using drugs more than recreationally and was cutting myself deep enough that I had scars up and down my thighs and on my left arm. I noticed that children and dogs on the street would avoid me. My family was scared of me, not in the way that they didn’t still visit with me, but in the way where they didn’t know who I was anymore. My friends didn’t even bother to call.

My world had become one in which I was isolated from anything beautiful because I had surrounded myself with ugliness. Seriously, though, the animals and the children were what snapped me out of it. My whole life I had always been able to get a smile out of a child and dogs would walk right up to me to be pet. All of the sudden I was projecting such negative energy that both shunned me. It may sound trivial, but that is what made me change myself.

I sobered up with the help of my mom and my friend Sal. I stopped cutting myself. It was a decision, not a coincidence. It was hard to do but not as much of a struggle as a new state of mind. I decided that I wanted to be a more positive person, that I wanted to bring people happiness.

Now I am rarely unhappy. I get frusterated and discouraged by life, of course, but I remain positive and realize that everything is temporary, and the bad times will pass. I wake up often and think how lucky I am to have all the beautiful friends I have, a well paying job and the opportunity to travel sometimes. I honestly believe that I am luckier than most people on the planet.

So, to everyone who wants to know if I am promoting self mutilation or glamourizing pain, the answer is no. I think everyone goes through a time in their life when they struggle with depression, mine just happens to be displayed physically. My scars are a reminder that I can get through anything. I am not trying to encourage anyone to hurt themselves, quite the contrary. I got through the shitty part of my life and came out a positive, happy person in the end, and I hope anyone out there struggling with depression problems will see that and have hope that they can do the same. It may sound cheesy but I am half hippie and half goth, and the hippie side of me says a positive outlook can make a huge difference.

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The author is the star of Scar13.com

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Posted by Scar 13 on July 25, 2006. Filed under Blue Blood. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. You can leave a response or trackback to this entry