There's Always Light at the End of the Tunnel

Every now and again someone will suggest I get into the area of journalism. It has been a reoccurring theme for the past 4 years, around the time I had to look at what I wanted to do in college. In the beginning I liked the idea and I even entertained the idea, researching the points required, what would be involved in a journalism course but in the end I decided that it wasn’t for me. Why? Well I guess the number of points required in the leaving cert was a big issue, I knew I wasn’t able to achieve the points required and while some people might say well why didn’t you try, I didn’t try because for me it wasn’t an attainable goal. Why would I just upset me self when I end up disappointed? I guess another reason was I wasn’t really sure if that was what I wanted to do although even now in my final year of college I’m still not sure what I want to do! I guess now that someone has mentioned doing my masters in journalism I have been questioning is it time I take my writing to the n...

I woke up this morning in disbelief, I knew this day was coming, I even marked it on the calendar but even still when I woke up this morning I wasn't really sure if I had actually made it! Today marks one whole year without self-harm, even writing it down shocks me, I never imagined actually lasting a whole year without self-harming in any way shape or form!    It has been tough! I’m not going to lie and I have been faced with many challenges which have encouraged self-harm urges but I have somehow managed to fight them off, to battle through the urges, to sit it out, distract myself, engage with my support system and take back control of my mind and I have made it an entire year without self-harming! I still can't believe it! Last night and even today I found myself retracing my steps, trying to remember if there were times that I self-harmed but didn't admit it, if there were moments when I gave in and let the self-harm take over but there wasn't! Don’t get me wrong...

My self-harm scars are something, which I have a love/hate relationship with. At times I love them, they remind me of my journey, the strength it has taken to stop self-harming and to deal with the reasons why I would harm, they represent my story and have become part of me. Other times I hate them, I hate the very fact that I have destroyed my body, marked it for life, and created something for people to look at, for people to associate with mental illness and stereotypes. My scars are without a doubt a part of me. I have never been the kind of person who has easily gotten into a routine of using creams and moisturizes and while I have used many different creams and oils to help with the appearance of my scars I have never used them for much longer than a few weeks. Why? Well besides forgetting and not bothering it is has always been something I wasn’t sure I want to do, it has very much been something which I wasn’t sure I could do, could I erase such a huge part of my life? Wel...