This post contains triggers! I am a cutter and I don’t hide my scars. My scars speak of who I am, what I have gone through and who I am becoming. My numerous scars represent the violence that happened to me—the sexual abuse and neglect. They scream that I was raped as a child, they scream that I was beaten and tortured, they scream that I am hungry, they scream I need help, please help me…they softly whisper you are okay, the pain is gone, you are safe… There is no shame in cutting myself—it was a way to cope with overwhelming emotions. It was like taking a vacation—getting out of hell for a brief moment.

Today, my scars are part of who I am—there is no denying my past—it happened—it will never go away—no matter how much the world ignores it. So, go ahead and close your eyes and pretend you don’t see them…I don’t wear them as a badge of honor—I am not proud of them—I am not shoving it in your face, but then again I am not going to hide them to make you feel comfortable—to let you live in your “perfect” world of ignorance. So, ask me if you want or acknowledge them if you care…I understand that not everybody is strong enough to say something, but admit it in your heart…silently honor my innocent little child that the world failed to protect.