When I used to cut with my father’s scissors for nails I remember researching why someone cut. I didn´t really understand why I had the odd compulsion to slice my skin open, and I knew it was not normal or healthy. It was before I found my mother’s book on the subject (the fact my mother is a psychologist and she never found out what happened is ironic to me) But I remember reading that for some, it was a way to externalize pain. I do not know how many people understand how accurate this is. You see, before you can shut your feelings off and sink into the comforting darkness of absolute depression, you feel sad. It’s not a normal type of sad, its an all consuming grief for something you can not always identify. Its heartbreak as you mourn for happiness (I also read it is possible to die from heartbreak. Your heart can give out under a lot of strain) Accompanied by an absolute feeling of loneliness. And it hurts. It hurts in your chest where you feel like your lungs are burning. It hurts in your stomach and in the tips of your fingers and in your stinging eyes. It hurts. I once read the reason why it hurts is because your body is trying to come up with a reason as to why you are crying and it creates it. I am not sure this is the truth. But if it is, I understand where it comes from. Today as I looked down at my exacto knife and the compulsion came back to me (life is really hard and I just want a minute) I remembered that I am trying to externalize pain. Not that knowing that makes things better of course. It makes nothing better to know why it’s happening.
