One year. 365 days. 525,600 minutes.
That's how long it's been since I last cut myself.
(Well, that's how long it's been since I last cut myself on purpose. I accidentally knicked my wrist on my car antenna a few months back - which hurt like you would NOT believe - and realized something important. When you're a cutter, this:
will really freak your friends out.)
Yes, I am a cutter. And, as I've said before, I will always be a cutter. No matter how long I go without cutting myself again (and I hope it will be forever), I will still always be a cutter, because deep down, it'll always be there, tempting me. When things go bad, I know that relief - however temporary - is just a cut or two away. You can liken it to alcoholism in that way, or eating disorders; the danger is always with you.
But in spite of that, there is hope. I have learned a lot in the past year, and my therapist gave me a lot of tools to help me cope with my problems better in the future. She gave me options, so that when the time came (as it inevitably did) when I wanted to cut myself, I knew there were other things I could do - healthier things that wouldn't set me back in my progress. I've learned to rely on my friends whenever I can, and to think and feel differently about myself when I'm alone. It is a much healthier life I'm living now.
Given how much has happened over this last year - how many ups and downs I've had to face - I am inordinately proud of myself for not having turned to a razor, or a push pin, or a shard of glass for comfort. It would have been so easy to hide in bed and bleed my troubles away, but I didn't. I took the tough road and asked for help when I needed it. And I pulled through.
The scars are still there, but they are faded now, barely noticeable to anyone who doesn't know to look for them. There are other scars - internal scars - but they're fading too, a little bit every day.
365 days, and I am healing nicely.
(P.S. More healing photos over at my photo blog.)