June 30, 2017
Mere Objects: staples from a profoundly honest survivor of childhood abuse, who writes:
The last time I cut my leg, I was too drunk. I cut deep. Much too deep. 44 staples and 8 days in the psych ward deep.
I am not my past
I am not my scarred legs, or arms, or stomach.
I am not my jeans clad in summer heat.
I am not a victim.
I am not a lost cause.
I am not better off dead, nor is this world better off without me.
I am not a number or a statistic.
I am not smudged by his hold on me.
I am trying. I am hurt, but I am healing.
I am alive and I feel and I hope for a brighter, warmer future.
May you come to know the scars as unfailing witnesses to your own powers of healing and resiliency. May you find in your hopes and longings a perfect guide to lead you through the darkest night. And may you discover that bright, warm future you have dreamed is even now rising up within you, as irrepressible as your own breath.