On my left wrist, topside, I have 3 scars. They run roughly perpendicular.
I was around 10. That night I simply decided I would cut myself with my boyscout pocket knife I had recently acquired. It was late. My stepbrother was gone, I think from having snuck out the bedroom window. The light was on. Perhaps I had been awakened, or wasn't even asleep before he got up to sneak out.
I had not pre-meditated this or witnessed any example of such an action in others at that point in my life. The largest scar is from is the first cut.
I remember opening the blade, and setting it in position, then pushing down as hard as I could till I was feeling the sting along with the hard pressure to my bone.
I remember how the blood started to seep out.
It was at first very slow. I believe this must have been when I made the other 2 smaller cuts above and below this first. I do not have any recollection of those moments.
I think I started to panic when the blood from the first had finally become significant. I wiped it with a towel, but the blood reappeared twice as much and twice as fast. It would not stop so I was forced to report to my step-parent for help. That part is a very vague recollection. I believe I was met with anger and hostility as my wounds were tended. No comfort whatsoever.
The "me" of that time, a passive participant in my own identity at that point, had no idea why I was doing it, really.
Back then, I had no way to understand what was happening.
Back then, I took this action, with no idea who I was at that moment or who I was to become.
Back then, I had no way to understand the pain inside me, much less even begin to be capable of communicating it, even to my own self.
It was almost like reverse time travel.... I noticed the scars a few days ago and it hit me pretty hard.
Now, I understand it completely.
Now, I see the result, I see who I am.
Now I see how my identity truly began with this event.
I never recognized a tangible origin before this realization. It felt like my childhood was nothing but a nightmare I'd woken up from all of a sudden... A meaningless series of painful occurrences. As meaningless at least as my sudden liberation was in the face of the massive damage I'd sustained from the combined loss, neglect, abuse, and brainwashing that made up my 18 initial years of mortal existence.
This realization has allowed me to recognize the fact that I DID in some way realize the wrongness of everything that had happened to me. It allows me to forgive that child self for any perceived failure or fault in the despairs I faced. I can now properly place the blame squarely where it belongs, on my negligently selfish and delusionally corrupt father.
What prompted this writing is that I've been going through a micro-relapse of related depression that I am fighting with. I recalled that last year I had another micro-relapse and some suicidal ideations. After writing this, another thought occurred to me... What if I had made the cuts vertically on the inside of the wrist, and just bled out? I think that me wanted to die. I was simply too mentally immature to understand that desire or plan it in any way. What if I had?