Yawning, I looked around the room; my head pounded. Scenes from last night’s debacle came rushing into my mind. My husband and I had the worst fight ever. My stomach started bubbling, covering my mouth, I ran into the bathroom and made it to the toilet just in time. Mouthfuls of bile spewed into the water, splashing up and hitting my face. When will you learn, you useless piece-of- garbage? John works late to avoid a fat ugly blob like you.
Standing up, I looked into the mirror. My face was blotchy, my eyes puffy, I could hardly see. I listened to the sounds of the house, all was quiet. Good, he’s not here. He must really hate you; he’s never left without giving you a quick kiss. Why can’t I remember everything?
I crawled back into bed. The wheels in my brain were spinning. I remember burning dinner. John was nice, but I was furious with myself. You’re supposed to be the perfect wife. Poor John works all day, and you stay at home doing nothing. Even an idiot can cook a simple dinner without messing it up.
Shaking my head to try to stop the loop of insults, I flopped on my side and squeezed my eyes tight. I didn’t want to start crying again. John didn’t get upset with me until I started saying how stupid I was. He tried to convince me it was a mistake anyone could make. But I kept on hurling insults at myself. That’s when the real fight began.
I sighed and took a deep cleansing breath. That’s when I noticed the coopery smell in the air. Oh no, you idiot, what did you do? I closed my eyes, but the only thing I could see was the scene in the kitchen from last night. I pressed my hands against my temples and tried to squeeze the vision of me picking up the knife from my head.
My stomach started churning again; I threw the covers back. The sun streaming through the window landed on the bed. I leaned in; there were red smears all over the sheets. This time I sprinted to the bathroom; the bile flew out of my mouth before I reached the toilet and splattered all over the walls.
I flung my body onto the floor and wept. Suddenly everything from last night came rushing back. There was nothing I could do to change the past. You finally blew it. I knew it wouldn’t take long before you wrecked your idyllic life. You’ve no business being happy and you’ll never be happy again. The whole world is going to know what a disgusting piece of trash you are.
Growling, my dog came out from under the bed. She looked at me and started barking. Tingles went down my back. I recognized her bark; someone was at the door. For the first time, I looked down at my nightgown; it was covered in blood. There were crusty trails of brown dripping down my legs.
Tingles went down my back when I heard the door open. “Honey, it’s me and the minister; come on out.”
My heart thumped as I fumbled for my sweatpants; wincing I pulled them up and threw on a shirt. Slowly, shaking violently, I walked into the kitchen. I turned my eyes down. John walked over and held me in his arms as I sobbed into his chest. “Shhh, everything is okay. I’m so sorry; I didn’t know you were cutting again. I’ve been so busy at work, I wasn’t paying attention. I should’ve seen the signs. Can you ever forgive me?”
Tears coursed down my face, “I’m the one who’s sorry.”
He covered my mouth, “You have an illness; I wish you’d told me that you were cutting again, but I know the signs. I should’ve called Pastor Jim earlier. He’s made arrangements to get you admitted today to The Healing House. You’ve been self-mutilating for too long. If you want their help, that part of your life can stop today. It’s a difficult journey, but it’s worth it. You just have to take the first step.”
Author’s Note: Self-mutilation, cutting, self-harm is a mental illness that anyone can fall prey to. If you or someone you know needs help contact your doctor immediately. There is also a hotline in the US 1-800-DON’T CUT (366-8288)
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