A journey of freedom from self-harm

Joy Attmore, 4th Dec 2017
Tags: Life Blog Self-harm

Every scar tells a story. Some we hide and only reveal to those closest to us; others we feel proud of and wear like a well-earned badge of honour. Either way, they are a part of us, a part of our journey, our story. 

I was 14 when I started studying for my GCSE dance exam, and chose the topic of self-harm for my choreography solo. Intrigued by a topic that was seemingly so dark, I also desired to somehow find an answer to this hopeless habit. 

One of my closest friends at the time had confided in me that he was self-harming, cutting himself on a regular basis in order to cope with his day to day life. My heart felt so burdened by knowing this, that I arrived at a place where I felt that the only way I could help him was to meet him in his pain, to feel what he was feeling. 

Now, as an adult, I can see how illogical that train of thought was, how little it made sense, and how far away from healing it took me.

I hated my body, and my heart and mind were fuelled by angry questions.

I started self-harming as a means to understand my friend, but it quickly became a way for me to unleash my own pain, anger and self-hatred. You see, I hated my body, and my heart and mind were fuelled by angry questions: ‘why was I alive? What use was I to the world?’ My body became a canvas for the outworking of self-hate and self-destruction and I began a regular rhythm of cutting myself. 

As this became a daily habit, my mental health continued to spiral downward. My every thought centred on when I could next cut myself, where I would do it and what I would use. I had entered a dark place in my mind and the idea of getting out seemed impossible. It felt like a life sentence.

One weekend, as I played football with my siblings and some of the students from our church, my sleeves got rolled up and my brother saw the fresh red lines on my forearm. He responded how I should have done with my friend, and told my parents what he’d seen. 

That afternoon began my intervention and started my healing as my dear mum and dad confronted me, and all my secrets came out into the light. 

As mortifying as that conversation was for me at the time, it also felt like such a relief to finally be able to tell someone the truth, to come out of hiding and receive some help. I was tired of the darkness and, as ashamed as I was of it, I had also been crying out for someone to see me and save me from it.

Healing for me didn’t happen overnight, but it started with me realising that I needed help.

Healing for me didn’t happen overnight, but it started with me realising that I needed help and saying yes to the arms that were wide open towards me. 

I had agreed with so many things that weren’t true, that I had to begin picking through them and essentially deleting them from my thought process one by one. I also needed to find better ways of coping with my negative emotions each time they were triggered.

One of the lies that I had believed was that I would always be a self-harmer. I had wrongly allowed it to become a part of my identity.

One of the lies that I had believed was that I would always be a self-harmer. I had wrongly allowed it to become a part of my identity. I wasn’t proud of this label, but I also didn’t see a way that I could get rid of it, even if I stopped cutting. I therefore had become ashamed of not just what I had done, but of who I was. 

"Shame is an ugly place of disgrace and dishonour causing us to live without the knowledge of our value and worth." Andi Andrew

A dear friend of mine, Andi Andrew, wrote an amazing book called She Is Free in which she unpacks shame more fully and gives both great insight, and also helpful tools, on how to get free from it and other lies that we can often find ourselves captive by. 

Essentially, that’s the journey that I found myself on. Once I realised that I was living in shame I began fighting for my freedom. It was like I had been asleep for a long time, wallowing in sadness and depression, and in that place had forgotten the beauty of life. 

As I began letting people in, talking things through with those that I trusted, and also renewing my relationship with God, light began to pierce through the broken places of my heart. Over time, the desire to cut myself grew less and less, and the hope that I had been without for so long grew stronger and stronger.

I have found complete freedom from a coping mechanism that, at one point, I believed was my identity and would remain in my life forever.

It’s been eight years since I last cut myself and the victory I feel over it is 100%. I have found complete freedom from a coping mechanism that, at one point, I believed was my identity and would remain in my life forever. 

"Both hope and hopelessness are contagious. Decide what kind of influence you want to have on the world around you." Bill Johnson

I know that this freedom isn’t just for me, but it is contagious! No-one was created a self-harmer, but everyone was created as free, children of God. That is our true identity.