I love to cut. I don’t know what it is – maybe it’s the feeling of control. Maybe it’s the exhilaration – the rush of satisfaction you get when you see the blood bubbling out of your skin. It’s beautiful, like art. It’s majestic, like a symphony. It’s a breath of fresh air, a way to break free from the numbness, like your legs have been trapped in quicksand for days and you’re finally able to take a step. It’s a moment of clarity – like your head has been in the clouds all day, filled with menial tasks you haven’t completed and scenes of your mistakes over the day that won’t stop running over and over again, when suddenly you’re rocketed back to reality, only the hole in your chest is gone. It’s a feeling of calmness – a stillness that consumes your body.
But after that, I’m left with blood all over my clothes and a task to formulate some believable facade of how I accidentally cut said piece of my body in case anyone sees; a couple of hours hour, the pleasure is gone.
In 6 days it will have been a year since I’ve cut last. It will have been a year since I’ve said no to harming myself and said yes to acknowledging the strength I have been given by God. I’ve gone without cutting for a year before, so this isn’t exactly a record but this time is different. Cutting’s great – if it wasn’t so taboo I probably wouldn’t have anywhere else in my body left to cut up. While there are times where that I do miss it, I have to be honest with myself and admit that it’s just a quick fix. There are days where I fantasize about not being on this earth anymore. I hate hearing about suicides of people I know and love not only because I’ll miss those people, but also because I always feel a twinge of jealousy – there’s a part of me that is happy that they’ve found the peace that I want. However, looking at the bigger picture, I know that this isn’t what I want. want to live in heaven with Jesus forever, where there is no pain and no suffering.
If you’re reading this, you may think my life is filled with despair and emptiness. Many days it does feel that way, even though I’m doing much better than I was a few years ago, thanks to anti-depressants. However, I’m thankful for this burden. Sharing my story has helped a couple of my small group girls this year; the moments I hear that my efforts were worthwhile are the moments that I am fully positive that I am exactly where God wants me to be and that he is working through me. When gold is put through fire, its impurities float to the top, where they can be removed and made more pure.
“In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ.”
– 1 Peter 1:6-7 (ESV)
Our faith is put to the test through trials – in the genuineness of our faith can we find joy. This life is not our own. I have to remember that I can’t do God’s will if I’m dead. You never know what kind of impact your words and actions can have on someone. Your words are powerful – they can tear down and destroy others, but they can also mend brokenness and maybe even save a life. So be kind, love others fully, and remember that your life is not just your own