When I was 12, I began to cut myself. The pain felt good. It took me far away and my body could feel. Luckily I realized I did not want to be addicted to cutting. So I started to beautify myself by piercing my ears. No ice or anything, just earrings I pushed ever so […]
It seemed so simple. Just go to her, put my arms around her. Tell her that I loved her, that I always loved her, even when she was angry. That I was there to listen to her. That we could work together. That it was OK to be angry. It was what I always did and how we worked through her anger. And I did just that because I loved her and this seemed like a response based on love. It all seemed so simple. But this time, the moment I held her and told her I loved her I realized the truth of my actions. The action was not based on love but on fear.