It’s been a while since I last cut myself.  I don’t know what’s holding me back from doing what I want (and need) to do.  I think it’s because I have a psychiatrist appointment and I don’t want to show up with fresh cuts on my arm.  It’s already bad enough that I have new scars on my arms.  I should just tell her the truth.  Will she understand that cutting is creeping back?  It’s hard to control.  I guess that is one bad thing about winter.

I decided to write this post to support the To Write Love on Her Arms Foundation.

To Write Love on Her Arms is a non-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide. TWLOHA exists to encourage, inform, inspire and also to invest directly into treatment and recovery.

There was a time in my life where I felt everything was out of my control. I couldn’t go anywhere and  couldn’t do anything to escape it. Everything that surrounded me had possession of my free will, whether it be the stresses of school, the expectations of perfection or an abusive

relationship, and I had nothing for myself. the pain that I internalized had no creative outlet and I turned my desperation towards myself. I am a recovering cutter, I have not broken skin in over a year. Support for cutters is rare due to the fact that many people think and believe that it is for attention. Cutting is an issue, it is a problem, it issomething that needs to be paid attention to, but it is NOT for attention. It is a release of pain for those that don’t know how to handle it. It is a sense of control for those that feel they have lost it.

There is no shame in admitting to cutting and no one should look down on someone for it.

Tonight i went to dancing and for once i really really enjoyed it. We went over some old dances that iv not done for over a decade. I remembered the songs but not so much the dances, although they were easy.

One of the dance teachers also noticed my scars today. she asked what they were. I just blankly looked at her then looked at my arm. she said, “cat? dog?……….self-harm?”. I looked at her when she said that which i suppose answered her question. She said “you dont hurt yourself do you?” and held my shoulder. She looked at me so worryingly.I have known this woman for over 14 years so i spose she has a genuine reason to show concern. She knew i wasnt doing to well lately (well all the dance teachers did).

Everyone has commented on how well iv looked recently. I was on meds and i was happy my life was settled until they took them off me and it went all downhill. A friend thinks its the placebo effect. I only feel better because my minds telling me im taking tablets its all going to be better, and when they took them off me my mind told me straight away i wasnt going to cope without them, so i didnt. I do think they have an effect though because i was on a different med previously and still ended up in hospital. I havnt been in hospital since starting these again other than overdosing on 56 of them the day i got them. but since then iv been getting better (other than sleeping all the time).

Tomorrow i have a busy day i have more phone books to deliver (ill be glad to see the back of them) then i have 2 housework runs to do and then normally i go to dancing but im going to be too tired to go i think. so i might just chill with my partner tomorrow night and watch a movie.

xxx

I’ve been thinking a lot about scars lately.

Jimmy Buffett said “the wrinkles only go where the smiles have been.” Ani Difranco said “I’ve got highways for stretch marks; see where I’ve grown.” Both wrinkles and stretch marks are reflections of a period of time. Although sometimes we look in the mirror and it *seems* they’ve sprung up overnight, the reality is they take time.

Scars on the other hand, are usually created in an instant. In that instant, you get a permanent reminder of an event. Although they may fade, you carry them with you always. They serve as a sort of visual biography.

Scars are usually the result of an adventure or an obstacle that’s been overcome. Scars come from a well-lived life.

I think it’s about time I acquire a few more scars…

Well today i woke at around 10am and lay in bed with my partner and dog until around 11. We then finally decided to get up and get ready and start delivering these phone books that are taking over our kitchen at the moment. Iv been tempted to make a new couch out of them for the living room.

We then went to a friends sons birthday party and shopping then home. Its too cold outside to keep running in and out so i just blethered to my friend online for a bit then made our dinner, watched superhero movie then i grabbed a bath to heat up and now sitting chilling in the spare room writing this.

When i was in my bath i sat, proudly looking at my fresh scars thinking “im doing it this time people know im harming i dont need to hide it or pretend im ok”. See i harmed when i was 14-15 and i stupidly confided in the school nurse thinking she would help but instead she told my mum and dad. I suppose she had to, but then i was pressure by them saying that, if i was harming id have to go to a psychiatrist, and sit infront of loads of people to tell them how im feeling. i didnt want that so i was forced to lie to my parents and the school nurse that i wasnt harming. i was lying and attention seeking. i continued to self harm and told noone.

I stopped for a good number of years but with this tough year i seem almost pleased that this knife is clasped back in the hand it belongs in. I feel a song from sweeney todd coming on and it fits my emotions to the tee.

My Friends
(sweeney singing about his knifes)

These are my friends.
See how they glisten.
See this one shine…
How he smiles in the light.
My friend.
My faithful friend…
Speak to me friend.
Whisper…
I’ll listen.
I know, I know you’ve been locked
out of sight
all these years, like me
My friend…
well I’ve come home to find you waiting.
Home, and we’re together!
And we’ll do wonders.
Won’t we?
You there, my friend?

XXX

I got a serious shock earlier today when I took off my shirt and looked down at my arms. I haven’t looked at them in a while… seeing the scars was a surprise. Don’t ask me why. You’d think I’d be used to them by now. But for some reason I wasn’t expecting them.

I still like the scars, although I have realized that it will make life more difficult for me – I’ll have to wear long sleeves to work every day; any future boyfriends will question it, my children will question it… Awkward conversation-starter. But the scars please me, when I don’t think about the ramifications. Straight and white, evenly spaced, all the same length… or then the ones that crisscross like tic-tac-toe.  The long ones that stretch the length of my arm. They’re beautiful, in a really sick way. I feel like I’ve earned them.

Paula Harrington delivers her usual powerful article entitled, Scars. She writes of the lessons learned from the scars that we carry in our bodies and spirits.

2:46 PM 12/17/2009

UPDATE: To clear up any confusion – Yes, i can be a liitle dark (i don’t try to hide it when i lay it in these pages) but this piece is a metaphor of how deeply love can hurt, and it is a euphemism for the piercing, claiming – the touching of the heart with a common desire. And there is more, but i’ll leave the rest up to the reader to interpret. Thank You for reading.

~*~

X

We were on the bed;
His head cradled in my lap.
I tenderly caressed his face …
rested my hand on his throat;
Not to deprive him of breath,
but to remind him of his choices.

I leaned down, brushing his lips
with my own, breathing him in,
to make certain, ‘Are you sure -
this is what you want?’
A barely audible whisper
filled my senses with
an electrical charge
and primal hunger,
with one word,
‘Yes.’

I reached under his pillow,
for the instrument …
of our destruction.
I chose the closest place,
to your treasured heart.
The soft, yielding flesh
between your rib
and sternum;
and pushed,
Upward and left -
so very
slowly.

Sealed
with a
X

~*~

Eyes On Fire

Original Scars was born in London, England on the 22nd November a 80’s baby and has been raised in South London ever since. Places were creative art and street life has captured his unique mind and essence resulting him to putting pen to paper.

Original Scars has worked with artist including Heatseekers, Nikkie S, Rymez, DPM recordings, J’amore, Phil Greenwood, James Yarde, Dj Money Maker, Darkman, Hypertone, kez, Hazel eye productions, Mashforce and many more talented artists.

That not it he has also perform at various venues across Poland and New Jersey with cousin DJ Money Maker who has set New Jersey alight with his blazing dubs and mixtapes/

He has also won various awards poetry events and he is due to have a few of his poems published in the next coming months. Original Scar’s poems deal with important 21st century issues, which include teenage pregnancy, drugs, crime and prejudice in a tense impressive manner. Original Scars is self funded which is not easy but this has not stopped him from producing quality material whether it’s a wonderful piece of poetry or a tight 16 bar. Brace yourself for Original Scars new album coming soon. Check out the myspace to listen to some of the songs.

http://www.myspace.com/originalscarsmusic

I see tomorrow clearly cause I am the future…(Original Scars)

Oh Chamber Memoriam

Haunted and freed—memories

Pictures suspended in air

A vibrant and viscid

Shadowy film

Slithers down the walls

Framing images in my mind

Oh Chamber Memoriam

I lock the gateway behind

To restrain myself in these

Hazy impressions

To inhibit myself

From recoiling

Once more

I open the drawers

And hurl the past on all sides

Scattering pages, images and…

Shattered pieces of my heart

Oh Chamber Memoriam

Tears I shed, for the blood

That desiccated upon the skin of my heart

I weep, I scream, as I

Suffocate myself

In the memories

I fall to pieces again and again

Dying more with each moment passing

Oh Chamber Memoriam

I genuflect, breathing hard

Eyes closed and head bowed

Preparing.

My eyes burst open

My head and body rise

Resolute.

I uncover the drawer

That drawer

Left for disposal

Fastened with all my strength

And as it opens

The shadows retreat

The levitating memories fall to pieces

The shattered fractions of my heart

Warm and liquefy

My eyes struggle to see through the hope

The love and kindness

Gentleness and joy

My gaze wavers not

As I see what I’d forgotten

What I gave everything for

Yet had, hidden, all along

I emerge once more

This time different than the times before

My heart is fashioned

And my scars are washed away

I emerge once more,

Myself.

From this,

Oh Chamber Memoriam.

3:38 PM 12/14/2009

Sometimes more-than-enough is: Never Enough.

*x*x*

He wasn’t expecting me, of course.

Never again, I swore. Never would I let someone that close to me, ever again.

*x*x*

I was just beginning to feel like my old self after regaining some strength, when my fingers found it there, lying next to my sneakers. There it was, like a cruel joke – just out of sight, beyond the bedskirt that I had to lift to see. The tip of that fingernail became the dagger that sliced my heart from my chest, in one moment of feeling ‘thunderstruck’ – like some Aztec Rite of Sacrifice, and it was … it would never be the same between us. He’d ripped my heart out.

I’d suspected other things, but not infidelities. I worked too hard to keep him happy. Still, there was that gnawing feeling in my gut, wound tight and I just wouldn’t listen. I didn’t want to. He brought out things in me that enabled me to feel ALIVE, for the first time in a very long time; it was a deeply passionate and very sexual relationship. He’d made me feel like no one before him had ever been able.

He was the best and worse that ever happened to me.

I loved him, with a blinding love, passion, and a trust that would prove to be my ruin. I lived for that man. I would go so far as to say that I was obsessed.

But concerning the fingernail – I didn’t, couldn’t bring myself to say anything for some time, but like most betrayals, they eat at you. A confrontation was coming – it was inevitable. I felt sick all the time. The wound was festering, like a black bile, while I waited for him to come to me with the truth. I had the fingernail – and a ‘fake’ one, at that. A fake fucking fingernail, for a very real deception – how ironic is that? How pathetic is that?

I wanted him to tell me the truth. I needed, really needed for my own peace of mind, to know why? I needed to know how it was, that I wasn’t enough, after all the sacrifices I’d made for him.

He never did.

He called me a crazy, stupid cunt, even after handing him the evidence. For which I say – Thank the gods for signs and messages. The universe speaks loud and clear when there is a message to be delivered. In this case, it was delivered with a violent force. Enough to render me deaf … and broken-hearted.

Heh, what can I say; for some people, once you take away the risk of getting caught it removes the fucking thrills. I told myself, ‘Fuck him. Keep your fucking games. And your fucking heartache. I have no use for it.’

He was just another man. A man who took everything he could – he used me, then discarded me. That was hard to say, type; acknowledge. I was his prey, and needful prey … he entered my life when I was numb, and not fully aware of just HOW dead I truly was. And he could smell it. He moved in for ‘the kill.’

I handed him every tool he needed to destroy me.

The more I thought about the whole messy affair, the more enraged and vengeful I became. And to know that this was happening while I was fighting for my life in ICU – in the ‘isolation’ unit. In two weeks time, he came to see me once. Worthless. Find your fucking ‘cake’ and ‘eat it elsewhere’ too. Get out of my house, my heart and my life. I’d show him, I thought.

In retrospect, it wasn’t really about him fucking another woman in my bed – MY fucking Bed – it was the deception and all the fucking lies. I began to wonder how many others there were that I’d turned a blind eye to. How could I have missed it? I grew up with it, it should have been easy to spot. I was blinded – I loved him actively; openly – that was my first mistake. The second was trusting him. The third was letting him know how deeply I loved him. He used my love against me.

I did everything in my power to keep him happy. I never once told that man no. Not once. I took care of him so he’d be true to me, so he’d love me back. I thought I’d found forever. I was very wrong and foolish. Ignorant. Gullible. Naive …

Wow, I never felt so stupid in my entire life. No wonder he thought me a stupid cunt, I was – for putting up with his BS, his lies and his abuse. I loved him more than I’ve ever loved before, or since. I forgave and I stayed. Even that wasn’t enough. I kept him happy (i thought) and I truly believed he was happy and satisfied. Nope, not enough. I believed that I was giving him what he most needed and wanted – what he asked for - it still wasn’t enough. Everything wasn’t enough. There would never be enough, of ‘anything,’ for someone like him. The more I did, the more he demanded and expected.

He was a lot of work, for very little in return, except a very valuable lesson.

I will never stay where I’m not wanted, needed and loved. I just wanted him gone.

He couldn’t love himself, how in Hell could he ever love me?

I needed a man who could hurt me for the ‘right reasons.’

He hurt me to be rid of me …

He took all that love and turned it into an equal amount of hate, but that isn’t the truth.

The truth is that I long for those old feelings, in a different context – without the damage.

He was a big man who couldn’t handle the little bit of love he took.

I guess he showed me.

*x*x*

+x+

It really should be called what it IS: Arrested Development.

Today is one of those ‘hard days.’

I find myself wanting to shut down. Not to myself, no, there is no avoiding that, but to the outside world. I am so exhausted that I have to force myself to shower, to eat, to write … not to think. In lieu of drugs, or moreso the desire to stay clean – I want to sleep, to kill the hungers – to turn it all OFF.

The need is there to become so quiet, so small and insignificant, that no one will notice.

It is a struggle of epic proportions for an addict to learn new ways to cope. There is no course back to normalcy, because normal is not something we’ve ‘normally’ ever known. Heh. Our normal may mean death, suicide, or a trip to the loony-bin to someone who’s life has been relatively chaos-free and semi-smooth-sailing. I’m not stating that I’ve been through more than anyone who may happen upon this writing, but I’ve seen more than my share of abuse, loss and pain. We addicts learn to cope, not by dealing with the issues, but by drowning them in chemicals that make us feel better, regardless of how temporary that may be, and it is always temporary. We hide in drugs, exercise, sex, smoking, adrenaline, risky behaviors, silence, alcohol, food, etc. You name it – the common denominator is that they are all crutches.

An addictive personality will continue to make their life increasingly more abnormal and dysfunctional, just in the process of the living: the day-to-day struggle and methods taken to alleviate the bitter realities of our own making.

Internally, life is awhirl and very much alive, much like that rip-tide I so recently wrote about.

Therefore, it isn’t that I’m -not- feeling; it is that there is too much feeling. You see, I don’t want to fall apart before your very eyes, reader – so I decided to keep those parts of me private. I want to close myself off to you. Only, I haven’t. When people’s notions of who they think, or believe me to be falls away, this is what you have: a flawed, imperfect woman, who has handed you her secret fears, and waits to see what you will do with that knowledge.

+x+

This involves the removal of a hair-bearing strip from the back and side of the head. The donor area is sutured to leave a thin, almost invisible line that the surrounding hair grows through and over to cover. Because the closure causes little tension even immediately on the tissue this allows the minimum of strip invasiveness and cosmetic change to the scalp.

The Tricophytic closure is offered as the standard closure to all Strip patients with amazing results. This involves a triple closure of the donor site after the removal of the epithelium on the lower edge. The results are excellent even in larger sessions.

It has to me kept in mind that regardless how good the closure is, a scar line will be the consequence, this can be hidden within existing hair and with today’s Tricophytic Closure a person’s hair can be worn shorter than previously, but if shaved close or totally shaved the line would be visible.

Strip/FUT is a proven and successful method of extraction in the right hands but the patient does carry some responsibility with donor care. Superficial healing is relatively quick and generally hidden behind existing surrounding hair; a suture has to be removed at ten days post operation and this is advised to be undertaken by a medical practioner. Once the suture is removed the scalp will start to return to normal pigmentation, do not be surprised if this takes a few months as this is normal. A very important factor is stretch back and you as the patient must ensure over the first two months that minimum pressure or stretching is applied to the scalp; this generally involves less activity or heavy work out sessions due to skin laxity returning to normal without being pulled in differing directions. Even the best closed suture can stretch if too much pressure is applied.

Strip procedures are a team effort; the Doctor heads the Medical Team, guides and directs the cutting and placement, but it would not be possible to place the amount of grafts without an efficient and technically adept team.

The amount of hair that can be removed is dependent on certain factors, density within the donor area, size of the safety zone and scalp laxity. Scalp laxity can greatly alter the width of the strip removed and the doctor will measure what he feels is safe to extract without putting pressure on the scalp. As with the closure method, the evolution of strip removal has now allowed for larger graft numbers to be achieved even on those with average or lower laxity and density. Dr. Christian Bisanga is a world recognised hair transplant doctor and has been performing this strip removal technique that has enabled many patients with average characteristics to achieve greater graft numbers than before, with 4000 plus grafts from average patients and even up to 6000 grafts; one of the largest FUT sessions successfully performed worldwide and the largest in Europe.

Even large Strip procedures, 4000 FU plus, can be repeated over again if the donor area is suitable, this allows maximum hair placement in minimal time.Time must be given for the scalp to relax and the laxity/density rechecked, so it is advisable that at least 12 months is given between sessions.

There are times when I don’t know who I am anymore.  How I’m feeling right now is a great example of that.  I want to be happy, but I don’t know what will make me that way.  How pathetic is that?  I used to take pride in the fact that I knew what I wanted to achieve.  Now I’m lost and I don’t know if I’ll ever find my way.  The urge to cut is getting worse.

It always does though.  I won’t do it though.  I can’t relapse.  My mental health is too important to me.  What good will cutting do anyway?  It won’t solve my problems.  It will just make everything worse because I’ll be stuck with even more scars.  The sad thing is that I don’t know what triggers my cutting anymore.  It used to be influenced by emotions, but now it’s boredom.

perawatan wajah

Putih bekas luka dan hypopigmentation hilangnya pewarnaan kulit dapat mengakibatkan trauma pada kulit.

Bekas luka mengambil penampilan putih karena produksi melanosit memiliki cacat. Melanosit membuat melanin pigmen yang memberikan warna kulit. Jika melanosit yang rusak begitu juga kulit S kemampuan untuk menghasilkan warna kulit lebih gelap.

Setelah kerusakan pada kulit apakah atau tidak hypopigmentation atau jaringan parut putih terjadi tergantung pada bagaimana luka terjadi.

Penyebab hypopigmentation dan jaringan parut putih

Sebagai contoh jika Anda mengendarai sepeda jatuh dan perawatan wajah hanya dihapuskan lutut Anda ini akan menciptakan sebuah dangkal abrasi pada kulit. Sebuah keropeng akan berkembang untuk Produk Wajah melindungi luka. Selama beberapa hari keropeng akan jatuh. Setelah gudang menjauh keropeng kulit kemudian akan menghasilkan pigmen sebagai respon terhadap paparan sinar matahari dan pada akhirnya warna bekas luka akan cocok bahwa dari sisa Memutihkan Wajah kulit.

Di sisi lain memiliki sepeda jatuh terlibat luka yang mendalam ke lutut sebagian besar produksi pigmen lapisan kulit bagian atas akan rusak sementara yang lebih dalam lapisan kulit perlu untuk memperbaiki jaringan yang terluka.

Untuk memulai proses perbaikan pada dermal kulit kemudian akan merajut bersama kolagen dan elastin untuk melindungi pembuluh darah di bawah kulit. Jika terjadi kerusakan pembuluh darah peningkatan jumlah peradangan akan menyertai proses penyembuhan luka. Dalam keadaan ini bentuk ringan fibrosis atau jaringan parut yang berlebihan dapat terjadi karena peningkatan dalam kerusakan kulit dan peradangan.

Dengan membangun-up jaringan parut melanosit mungkin tidak mencapai permukaan kulit di mana mereka membuat melanin dan memberi warna pada kulit. Hal ini mengakibatkan putih jaringan parut kasar.

Laser resurfacing

Tidak seperti kecelakaan sepeda laser kembali muncul ke permukaan adalah suatu bentuk jaringan parut disengaja. Sejak laser resurfacing memperbaiki kerusakan kulit dengan menimbulkan luka-luka kecil di kulit perawatan laser dapat menyebabkan hypopigmentation. Pada saat ini hipo-pigmented spot mungkin tidak muncul sampai dua hingga enam bulan setelah perawatan laser.