Now we are free.

The Arcade Fire said (and Peter Gabriel said it better) that “My body is a cage, that keeps me from dancing with the one I love…but my mind holds the key.” 

I read something here, a couple of weeks? ago now, about how self-harm is stupid because it does permanent damage to your body.  Self-harm is a permanent solution to a temporary problem, don’t you know, and therefore no matter how shitty you feel, it is better to just not do it.

How easy that sounds.  Yet, after 13 years, I find that advice comes a bit late.  Certainly, it never occurred to me in any of those 13 years that I was fucking up my entire future.  It never occurred to me that I would never wear a t-shirt, or go swimming again.  

No, I needed the keen observational skills of some 17-year-old child to help me reach these conclusions.  How insufferably condescending.  I mean, good lord, I’ve been a “cutter” since you were four years old, and self-harming since before you were born. 

But, she was right, in spite of being condescending. 

My body is a cage, that keeps from dancing with the one I love. 

I will carry these scars, my cage, forever.  And I will do so alone, for my mind holds the key, and my mind is impenetrable, a fortress of its own.  A fortress within a cage. 

People, as a whole, do not understand.  “People like him,” said my sister, referring to a friend (Friend A) who has engaged in serious self-injury throughout the years, “are the reason that we still need asylums.”  I could have a spine and disagree, but the last time I stood up for a friend with some kind of mental illness (Friend B), I was ostracized.

It was actually kind of amusing.  In psychology class, we did an experiment on positive and negative reinforcement.  One person in each group was supposed to talk about any subject.  When they stayed on topic, their audience (the other three group members) were supposed to nod, express interest, and pay attention.  If the speaker veered off topic, the audience was supposed to yawn, stop making eye contact, turn away, and so on.  The point was to illustrate how behavior is either sanctioned or discouraged by group dynamic and body language.

So, I spoke up in defense of Friend B, and my sister’s response was basically, “oh…but you’ve never stood up for him before…” and when I started talking about how that was reprehensible and spineless of me, she stopped making eye contact and turned away.  I guess I was engaging in socially unacceptable behavior.  Mental note: don’t do that again.

People who hurt themselves apparently belong in asylums. 

I know it makes people uncomfortable.  But asylums?

I don’t expect people to understand the scars, and I expect them to understand the fresh cuts and bruises even less.  Hence, my body is a cage, that keeps me from dancing with the one I love.  It keeps me from dancing with anyone, in fact.  I could try trusting someone, that’s the key my mind holds. 

It’s not going to happen.

Maybe I should just pack my bags and check into the nearest asylum.