9 Years

These photos were taken exactly 9 years apart.

March 25th is Destruction of the One Ring Day, when we remember Frodo and Sam throwing the One Ring into the fire, thereby saving the world.

It ALSO marks my 9-YEAR ANNIVERSARY of being self-harm free! I did not intentionally stop cutting/burning/etc on this day 9 years ago to align with my heroes Frodo and Sam, but I do love how it turned out that way.

Because my life took a turn for the scholastic last fall and everything has been revolving around my self-harm research, I've found myself daily reflecting on those years, trapped in an addiction that was slowly burying me alive. The nature of addiction is such that you lose stretches of time, and much of that time is still a mystery to me. But I do remember God clearly telling me that self-harm would follow me, and that I would struggle with it my entire life. Being 19-years-old, having just pulled my college application to take another gap-year to learn to WALK again, one can imagine the grief and anger I felt being told under no uncertain terms that my future would always have the theme of self-harm... I never could have imagined 9 years later I would willingly answer God's call to pursue a Masters degree in Self-harm recovery research. My God truly is the God of grace and irony.

These photos were taken exactly 9 years apart.

In comparing pictures I was awed to see the "similarities" and how it's because they share such echoes that they are in fact opposite...

A few days after the first picture, I collapsed because the muscle injury of my final infliction was so severe, I couldn't hold my own weight. I had to go to physical therapy to learn to walk again. Today I still limp from that old injury, and the day after the second picture was taken I went to physical therapy to care for an unrelated foot sprain. Same leg with a limp. Totally different reasons.

In the first picture I'm clutching my leg in pain. Today I still find myself clutching my arm and sometimes knee when I see graphic images, and I'll occasionally fight what I call "Empathetic Phantom Cuts," a phenomenon where one self-harmer vividly feels another self-harmer's wounds, followed by the strong urge to replicate it. Back when the first picture was taken I would have cried out in response to the phantom pain and desperately worked for the next hour or so to remove the sudden urge to hurt myself again. Today when I feel Empathetic Phantom Cuts, I'll instinctively rub my own arm for a moment, stop, kiss it protectively, and continue my day, unharmed.

The first picture was taken on my birthday. And for many years I slugged through that day, opening birthday cards and desperately trying to forget it was the day I cut myself into a wheelchair and forfeited a deeply wanted future.

The second picture was taken on my birthday. A day my family and friends have worked with me to reclaim. Yes it's the day I hurt myself, forever changing my life. But it's also the day I got to see my Godchildren. It's the day I got to read Dr. Seuss with my nephew. It's the day I grabbed meals and ice cream with friends. It's the day I turned 20, clean. And 21, clean. And 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, and now 28, clean.

In the first picture I had no idea what I was doing or where God was going with all of this. In the second picture, I still have no idea what I'm doing or where God is going with all of this. But we've also got 9 years of going somewhere, and I've never been sorry for following His call.

These photos were taken exactly 9 years apart. And more has changed than I could possibly have imagined. If you or a loved one is struggling with self-harm, I cannot encourage you enough to seek professional help. You deserve so much more than the hell you have settled for. Courage, DearHeart. Joy comes in the morning.

Love you guys, stay safe.