Updated: Oct 15
I feel like there's a knife ripping down inside of me. It's not a typical knife; the blade is on fire. My heart hurts. It hurts so bad. There is so much pain. Too much pain contained in this small vessel and I need to let it out. So I cry, a deep, soul wrenching, body shaking, tears streaming cry. And then I cry some more.
This wasn't a battle I expected to get scars from and yet, I now have 7 lines on my hand. 7 attempts to distract myself from the agony that's within. I've never done this before, I was never in such a place of pain and despair. Total desperation. And it scares me. Not only because I actually gave in to my painful fantasy but because I can't guarantee that I won't do it again.
I'm scared because I don't feel like the same person I used to be. I'm scared of what this new version is capable of. I always carried my battle scars with pride. I've always viewed fighting my inner demons (and succeeding) as something to be proud of! I fought like hell, I've faced my fears, accomplished the unthinkable and I persevered.
I wear my internal battle scars with pride. "Look how far I've come! Look how much I've conquered!"
But now I have different battle scars. They are on the outside, clear for anyone to see.
My hope is that sometime soon I'll be at the end of this. And then I will look at my scars and have a tangible reminder how much I fought and how far I've come.
There's light now. It's coming soon.