Ouch is right! Mom-remember that black bowl you got me for like a $1 at Wal-Mart? Well, the damn thing FLEW off my counter today and shattered into a million little pieces on the floor. I tried to be careful picking it up, but I did somehow manage to cut myself. No, it's not life threatening, and doesn't require stitches. It does hurt though, and as I watched it bleed (sick, huh?), I realized it could be misconstued as cutting. Self-mutilating. Whatever the kids are calling it nowadays. If I was a real cutter, I wouldn't be whining about how much it hurts, rather, I'd be telling you some BS line about how cutting releases my pain, stuff like that....yes, I have worked in the mental health world for too long. I'm gonna go nurse my wound now, aka, go put a Band-Aid on it.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
I swear, I'm not a cutter
Ouch is right! Mom-remember that black bowl you got me for like a $1 at Wal-Mart? Well, the damn thing FLEW off my counter today and shattered into a million little pieces on the floor. I tried to be careful picking it up, but I did somehow manage to cut myself. No, it's not life threatening, and doesn't require stitches. It does hurt though, and as I watched it bleed (sick, huh?), I realized it could be misconstued as cutting. Self-mutilating. Whatever the kids are calling it nowadays. If I was a real cutter, I wouldn't be whining about how much it hurts, rather, I'd be telling you some BS line about how cutting releases my pain, stuff like that....yes, I have worked in the mental health world for too long. I'm gonna go nurse my wound now, aka, go put a Band-Aid on it.
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