they would speak a thousand things

Archive for December, 2010

Underneath My Scars

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Underneath my scars

There is more than you can see

The pain goes deep and far

And the scars come naturally

But underneath those scars

Is more than meets the eye

Look beyond the surface

Search underneath my scars

And you’ll find

 

More

His love goes so much deeper

I have a hope for life

There’s more than just a scar

Left over from before

There is so much more to me

 

Underneath my scars

There is a girl

Who is dying to be free

From the shame and misery

Because underneath those scars

That they all judge and define

Is the me that is reality

The scars I cannot hide

But if you search underneath my scars

You will find

 

I’m not just a line

Raised above my skin

Left over from a knife

I’m not what I have been

I’m not just the one who cuts

There’s more to my story

Just look underneath my scars.


My Soul Despairs

 

I am confined within this prison

Of my desperate, tortured heart and mind

Been abandoned by everyone

I had trusted to be kind

 

My voice is without a song

All my hurt lingers on

Pain envelopes my very being

When everyone I loved is leaving

My soul despairs

How can I change when all I feel is numb?

 

I am held hostage inside myself

In need of a knight to come and save me

Because I cannot escape this life in Hell

Will I be able to give someone my story?

 

My voice is without a song

All my hurt lingers on

Pain envelopes my very being

When everyone I loved is leaving

My soul despairs

When will I live if my life is over and done?

 

They say time and distance change you

But all I have is a knife spilling my blood

Just need to hear the cut sing true

In my skin cause I have no love or past

Can’t stop when everything is fading fast

Do I even give a care?

My soul despairs


On Being a Cutter (and Healing Prayer)

 

If there is a difference between who you are being and who God created you to be there will be conflict, and that conflict will cause pain.

People exist in 3 inseparable realms: the spiritual, emotional and physical, and pain can exist in or even inhabit one or more of those realms. Sometimes pain can’t be traced to one specific realm, because they are interrelated. But God heals the brokenness by restoring the girl to wholeness in all 3 realms. We are called to “carry one another’s burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ” in Galatians 6:2 and to “confess your sins to one another and pray for one another so that you may be healed” in James 5:16. This means there are 3 aspects needed for healing prayer. 1) the girl to confess her sins 2) the intercessor, or person to whom she confesses, and 3) the Holy Spirit who is irrevocably involved when a person prays. But the one catch is that the girl must listen and hear the truth in order to be healed. When God speaks the truth to her, it will transform her mind and allow her to understand her identity as God originally intended.

But challenges to our God-given identity will always occur as a result of faulty conclusions that we draw. These steps are: 1) I observe 2) I interpret 3) I conclude 4) I choose 5) I act 6) I am. A misinterpretation or a bad conclusion will cause an unwise choice. Your identity is formed by the things you believe and the actions you take as a result. Maybe you think I am a cutter (identity) because I cut myself (actions) and rely on it (choice) to fill some need (conclusion). But that is not my identity. Sometimes I think it is. But being a “cutter” to the core is not who God created me to be. It causes me pain to be labeled as a cutter, because it does not line up with who God created me to be. The only way to change this is to change the conclusion (that I am a cutter) you make as a result of your interpretation (because I cut myself) from the observation you first made (seeing my scars).


Mutilation

Mutilation is the badge that can never be taken off, and sets us apart from all others. Pain is important to the bonding—a physical horror that bonds us ever tighter to all those who have partaken. The intensity of the experience helps to widen the gulf between us and those who have not shared. –Clive Barker, Pinhead

 


You might imagine that a person would resort to self-mutilation only under extremes of duress, but once I’d crossed that line the first time, taken that fateful step off the precipice, then almost any reason was a good enough reason, almost any provocation enough. Cutting was my all-purpose solution. My scars ought to be a charm bracelet of mnemonics, each a permanent reminder of its precipitating event, but maybe the most disturbing thing I can say about the history of my cutting is that for the most part I can’t even remember the whens and the whys behind those wounds. It didn’t take much to make me cut. Frustration, humiliation, insecurity, guilt, remorse, loneliness—I cut ’em all out. They were like a poison, caustic and destructive, as though lye had been siphoned into my veins. The only way I could survive them, I thought, was to keep draining them from my blood. I was trying to get equilibrium from two extremes: either I was so upset that I had to cut myself to relieve it, or I was so numb that I had to cut myself to get back to being there.