Yesterday was an important day for me, and as taboo as it might be for me to share why, I'm going to do it anyway. I guess if you get squirmy you can read someone else's blog.
Yesterday marks three years since I last cut myself.
I think I've mentioned on this blog before that I was once involved with that behavior. Well, involved is probably a bit of an understatement. The reasons varied over the years but one thing was very consistent: there was always pain. Not just the obvious physical pain. There was so much emotional pain that it is indescribable to anyone who hasn't been in that place.
When I say "involved" what I mean is that it was part of my life for eleven years.
Three years compared to eleven years doesn't seem like very much. It was such a struggle to live through and for so many years I couldn't see any sort of light at the end of the tunnel. I didn't believe that such a light existed. But the quality of my life has improved by at least eleven times in these last three years. It's so nice to not be miserable all the time. It hasn't been all smooth sailing and I've had days that have sucked but my life is better. It got better, and it gets better all the time.
I know it makes people uncomfortable but I think it's just because they don't often know how to react. I've had a little bit of courage lately and I haven't been wearing a jacket as much this summer. Short sleeves feel nice. It's not my intent to inspire awkwardness, even though it probably happens. I figure that I can be okay with where I've been. If someone wants to ask about it, I think it's good to talk about it. I have a story and I am willing to share it if you want to listen. I'm not afraid of my story.
I'm glad that this is just the beginning. Three years and counting, and every day counts.