Self Mutilation

A lot of my fellow self mutilators have told me that they find my self love exercises absolute bullshit. "They don't work, I can't tell myself "I love you," it's impossible, you're stronger than I am so of course it works for you," are the most common complaints I get. The mutilations come in the common forms, such as cutting, piercing and burning, as well as the uncommon: skin peeling, toenail ripping, inner cheek gnawing, splinter imbedding, even bone breaking and tooth torture. We victims of CSA and other abuses find any way we can to hurt ourselves. And why not? The little bitch deserves it. We're the ones who caused our abusers's sexual interest, we're the skanks who made them lose control, we're the chickenshits who didn't tell. So we rip and tear and bruise and blister, and oh, how we love it. The adrenaline surge when the pain first hits, the release when we break the skin and feel that wet rush, the euphoria of knowing there's another hurt to survive. It's our drug, our bottle of sin, our ghastly comfort to help us through yet another day. And all of it in secret, hidden well, obscure enough to not be noticed. Abuse victims are sneaky.

We are royally, deeply and disturbingly fucked up.

When I first began my self love experiments, my self hatred was so intense, I called myself names every day and hadn't looked at my full face in the mirror for years. The exercises were simple but surprisingly difficult to do. First, I stopped all self derogatory humor. No more making them laugh around the water cooler by describing my lumpy ass. No more jokes with my own shortcomings as fodder. Then came the "I love you, Rebecca's" every night, followed by "good night, beautiful mind, good night beautiful body, good night beautiful spirit." I hated all three of those, so it made sense to counter each negative with a positive.
Did I welcome those words? Feel a relief, heal overnight? No. All of it pissed me off. I'd say "I love you" then immediately follow with, "you stupid fucking liar." Good night to the trilogy brought out the trilogy of horrific body, stupid bitch and dead whore insults. Every day for six months I did this ping pong match between my logical mind and my unreasonable psyche. The key here is persistence. It doesn't matter if you believe it or not., just keep at it. Given enough time, water dripped on stone can dissolve it or form a bridge. So have patience and keep at it. It took six months for me to feel the slightest difference. If you can't say "I love you" to yourself, say it to a photo of you when you were a baby. If you can't say it, write it. I haven't hurt myself in years now. It's amazing, looking back, at exactly how miserable I was. But I am finally getting free of that awful yoke, and the difference is astonishing. So hang in there, my broken and bleeding brothers and sisters. You can be happy. You can find something good inside. You can laugh again. You just have to be persistent.

Love, R
Freak: The True Story of an Insecurity Addict