Today's story has a happy ending. I promise. Or at least a fresh one, if you can say that--a fresh ending.
I had to get stitches. Four of them, I think, though they slapped a bandage over the wound before I consciously counted. I only noticed that they were perfect--all in a row like tiny blue shoots the doctor just planted. Exposed red and yellow tissue had been cloaked again and all that was left was a furrow. I was captivated by the cleanness of it and how simple it had become.
I'd done it to myself. It was far from the first time, but I'd never considered needing stitches before. I had for two days prior been consumed by thoughts of self-injury. I hadn't done it in a while and it always comes on like a late-night binge. I planned and weighed each concern about where and how to get what I needed. The first night I made dozens of shallow scratches with a blade that looked like burn marks from friction they were so close together. Lots of marks, little blood. The second day my thoughts turned darker and more persistent. I wanted to go deep. I felt compelled to continue until I went all the way through. What resulted was a gaping wound on the side of my wrist, not quite to the bone, though that was my intention. My dog woke up anxious and concerned. I think she could smell it.
I stopped. Ashamed and shaking I rinsed myself off, bandaged it up and went to bed. I changed the bandage in the morning, but it looked bad so open. I worked for two hours then walked into the urgent care. My blood pressure was high and my breathing irregular. I knew they'd see the other scars and I was mortified they'd ask questions. Shame overcame me, but they said nothing. The doctor gave the verdict and shot my arm full of the magical numbing elixir. The nurses in training hadn't scrubbed an open wound before and even knowing I was numb, were so gentle the nurse had to tell them to scrub harder. They chatted with me and I tried to breathe, though I was shaking slightly all over. The doctor was unhurried and worked with the precision of an experienced tailor. He put me at ease.
Everything was done in a matter of minutes, as if hardly anything had happened. All the tension and obsession in the darkness put back together in a clean line. I walked outside with a handful of bandages and let the day purge and purify the darkness. It felt good and I was calm. Somehow, taking care of the outer wound in the right way made me want to take care of the inner wounds in the right way, too. I walked in the shaman sun and felt content, redeemed.
I thought of those times a kid gets injured by a fall or by friends and mom sits down on the sidewalk with a hug, a kiss, and a popsicle, the best balm of kid-dom. Or when friends get together for ice cream because someone had "the worst day of her life." I didn't have any girlfriends and was too ashamed to tell mom, so I treated myself. I stopped by Cupbop: Korean BBQ in a cup. I'd never been before, but it was spicy comfort food bliss. I needed that moment to myself, a moment to rethink and restart. I killed my shame with kindness.
I don't know what sense it has, if any, but it was the closest I've come to feeling happy in a while. I met peace on the way to the train with Cupbop and sunshine. I smiled at my stitches. I wished I had a cool story so that I could tell everyone what wonderful things stitches were. They put back together something broken, painful, and ugly. I'll have a scar, but it won't look mean like the others. It's serene with its furrow and little blue plants.
I don't know why it makes me think of a garden. Redemption, I suppose. Perhaps the Master Gardener will heal the wounds inside.
I miss my clean, untainted skin. I regret the scars both straight and jagged and I hide them whenever I can. But the one on the right side of my right wrist, with a stitch, righted my state of mind. I can't guarantee it will last, but, as my therapist says, "life's a bag of granola mixed with pieces of candy and shit." You can only be where you're at, and where I'm at's okay. I'll devour the good just like that giant cup of Korean BBQ (vegetarian, of course), and carry the junk into the sunlight so I can keep moving in the darkness.
