Everyone
has scars: from surgery, from itching too much when you had chicken pox, or
from that time you scraped up your knee when you fell on the sidewalk when you
were a child. Some people have scars that are the result of mental illness. I
have many scars all over my body from self-injury: little scars, big scars,
faint scars and deep and wide scars. The definition of stigma is "mark of
shame or disgrace." For people with scars from cutting or suicide attempts
their scars may serve as a scarlet letter, marking them with the sin of having
had mental illness.
The way that people with mental illness feel about their scars is as diverse as they are. Some are proud of their scars: they are battle wounds from a long and hard-fought struggle with mental illness, and they represent courage. Others see their scars as a chronicle of their history: the reminder of where they have been and where they are going. Some are indifferent about their scars: they are what they are and don't require any further thought. And some people are ashamed of their scars: they feel that their scars mark them as weak, broken, and sick.
How you feel about a scar affects how you deal with it. Some people hide and cover their scars, others don't give them any thought, and still others proudly let the world see.
I have a scar on my forehead from accidentally falling down a flight of stairs as a child. I readily tell people that story, laughing about my childhood clumsiness and marveling at how well the 45 stitches healed.
My scars from self-inflicted wounds while I was deeply depressed do not generate the same kind of conversation. Some people notice them and say nothing. Others ask, "What happened??" expecting me to have a story about a horrible accident or injury, and instead getting the explanation "I was depressed..." Which usually makes the asker feel awkward and immediately change the subject.
I used to try to hide my scars, wearing pants in warm weather, applying supposed scar fading creams, and slathering foundation and makeup over them. But it just became too much of a hassle, and I didn't like the implication of hiding them. I was, in the past, ashamed and embarrassed of my scars. I thought they were ugly. But now I see them as simply leftover marks of my illness. I am not proud of my scars, but I am not ashamed of them either and I do not hide them, because I did nothing wrong. I was very depressed and did what I felt I had to do to survive. Self-injury is a very unhealthy coping skill and I was in a pretty desperate place to use it, but I was doing the best that I could at the time. Now I know healthier coping skills. And I AM proud that I have not done any self-injury for over 3 years now. Scars are just what’s left over when you’ve healed. My scars are no different than yours.
The way that people with mental illness feel about their scars is as diverse as they are. Some are proud of their scars: they are battle wounds from a long and hard-fought struggle with mental illness, and they represent courage. Others see their scars as a chronicle of their history: the reminder of where they have been and where they are going. Some are indifferent about their scars: they are what they are and don't require any further thought. And some people are ashamed of their scars: they feel that their scars mark them as weak, broken, and sick.
How you feel about a scar affects how you deal with it. Some people hide and cover their scars, others don't give them any thought, and still others proudly let the world see.
I have a scar on my forehead from accidentally falling down a flight of stairs as a child. I readily tell people that story, laughing about my childhood clumsiness and marveling at how well the 45 stitches healed.
My scars from self-inflicted wounds while I was deeply depressed do not generate the same kind of conversation. Some people notice them and say nothing. Others ask, "What happened??" expecting me to have a story about a horrible accident or injury, and instead getting the explanation "I was depressed..." Which usually makes the asker feel awkward and immediately change the subject.
I used to try to hide my scars, wearing pants in warm weather, applying supposed scar fading creams, and slathering foundation and makeup over them. But it just became too much of a hassle, and I didn't like the implication of hiding them. I was, in the past, ashamed and embarrassed of my scars. I thought they were ugly. But now I see them as simply leftover marks of my illness. I am not proud of my scars, but I am not ashamed of them either and I do not hide them, because I did nothing wrong. I was very depressed and did what I felt I had to do to survive. Self-injury is a very unhealthy coping skill and I was in a pretty desperate place to use it, but I was doing the best that I could at the time. Now I know healthier coping skills. And I AM proud that I have not done any self-injury for over 3 years now. Scars are just what’s left over when you’ve healed. My scars are no different than yours.
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