The Harm In It

Moments of freedom are experienced in different ways. Some moments are instant. Some develop over time and culminate in an epiphany. Not all prisons are physical. Sometimes it's our physical disabilities that imprison us. Other times it's our own mental health that creates a mental prison of sorts that causes isolation from the greater world.

For almost 15 years, my freedom was limited by an unhealthy coping mechanism. Self-harm was the way I coped. I was trapped in a self-destructive cycle. I caused physical harm to my body in order to cope with the symptoms of my depression and other mental health issues. It was my escape, a way to feel anything that wasn't the hurt, loneliness, anger, and self-hate brought on by untreated mental illness and low self-esteem. It was also my prison.

I won't share the details of exactly what I did to myself, bandut it started when I was 11. I had been severely bullied and had undiagnosed dyslexia and attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), among other things. Everything came to a head when a teacher became physically violent toward me and I was injured in an altercation. I was forced to transfer schools.

I already was sad, lonely, and depressed, now I had to go to a school where I knew no one. It was the middle of a semester and not only was I now in a middle school (instead of elementary school), I was accompanied by the rumors surrounding my transfer. I was miserable, without my friends whom I'd known most of my life, and in a dark place. That is when I began to harm myself.

Despite all of this, I wasn't without friends for very long. The girls who had lockers near mine were kind even though I was severely depressed and angry. Playing in the band and playing sports helped me to cope but it wasn't enough. Because I had started to self-harm, I had to constantly hide it. The marks were hidden under long-sleeved shirts or easily explained away as scratches from animals or yard work. More than once, I was called in to speak to the counselor or principal because of the self-harm. Though I was very close with my new friends, all of this caused me to be more closed-off.

By the time I was in high school, I was a pro at hiding my self-harm. But the injuries sometimes prevented me from doing things I wanted to. I couldn't play sports that didn't allow me to hide my arms. I didn't change clothes in front of others. A couple of my close friends knew I had self-harmed, but no one knew the extent of it. I was terrified of someone telling an adult or a teacher noticing the injuries. It was stressful and I put up even more emotional walls. All those walls and limitations I had placed on myself to keep people from finding out had become my prison.

The last time I self-harmed was in my 20's. I remember thinking, as the paramedics patched me up and I spoke with the Sheriff, "If I keep going like this, I'm going to accidentally kill myself."

The day I let go of that negative coping mechanism was my moment of freedom. After years of medication and therapy, I finally realized self-harm no longer served the purpose it once did. I was no longer hiding or limiting myself. The unhealthy bond was broken. The peace I felt was what imagined it felt like for a bird to fly. I was unburdened. I was free for the first time in over a decade. I was limitless.