Small children usually don't understand the concept of self harm. My nieces never ask. I don't know if it's because it scares them, or because they're too shy, or because they don't care, or because my sisters have said anything about it and told them not to. Same with my youngest cousin. But some children do ask. They're curious, and they don't understand why I have all those marks covering my body when no one else they know have them.
There was especially one incident that made an impression on me. I was at my (at the time) best friend's house, and we were baking. Her youngest sister, at the time probably around eight years old, came into the kitchen to look at what we were doing. Then she looked at my arms.
"What are those?" She said.
I was caught off-guard, 'cause I was pretty sure she'd seen before and never asked, and didn't really manage to form a coherent response, not even a simple "I got hurt" or "I was injured" or anything.
My best friend quickly stepped in and told her sister that that was enough and that she should go upstairs, and though she did comply, she first said:
"You look like a tiger!"
And she was shoo'ed upstairs. There was no malice in her voice, just... astonishment? We resumed to doing what we had been doing before, but that comment stuck with me. I still think about it, and not because it pissed me off, but because it surprised me. A zebra? I had heard that one before. Zebra stripes. Almost a cute term. But a tiger? In a way, that made me sound stronger than I felt. Actually, it kind of made me smile.
Even though it was probably mindless from her side, in some way it kind of helped reassure me that there's nothing wrong with having those stripes.
(Left forearm, May/June 2011) Picture // private |
(Right forearm, May/June 2011) Picture // private |
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