It’s hard to feel two kinds of different pain at once.
So sometimes, if my emotional pain feels unbearable, I create physical pain—like a kind of alchemy. It still hurts but it’s often more bearable.
This kind of SI can help keep me alive.
2/
Shame & punishment
The worst ongoing impact of child abuse for me is shame. It’s insidious. Sometimes my SI is a response to that, a way of trying to feel like a good person.
This is often hidden, very private SI. Sometimes it makes shame worse, sometimes it helps.
3/
Grounding
I dissociate often, although I prefer to call it turtling.
It can be comforting but sometimes it’s frightening or frustrating.
Sometimes SI is a strategy to get back in my body by creating strong physical sensations.
3/
Expression
Sometimes there are powerful, urgent parts of my experience that need to be expressed into the world… but my tears won’t come, or there’s no language that fits, or it’s too shameful to speak, or that no one could possibly hear.
But I can release it through SI.
4/
Suicide alternative
Sometimes the urge to die can feel overwhelming and immediate, and in these times SI can be a kind of circuit breaker, it can grab all of my focus and become a way to keep living.
5/
I have other reasons too: a sense of validation, expressing anger, feeling comforted as I care for my wounds.
It took time to recognise these needs.
For each need I can use different kinds of injury & different parts of my body. Each choice holds meaning worth us exploring.
6/
Why does any of this matter?
Well, this knowledge gives me choices. If I want to reduce or stop SI, these are the needs I have to address.
It’s specific, useful knowledge, unlike a random list that tells us to ‘squeeze ice cubes’ or ‘use mindfulness’.
7/
So I’ve learned through trial & error that:
Exercise or dance can help transform pain.
Art can give me expression.
Self-massage can ground me.
Connecting with a friend can alleviate shame.
And sometimes they don’t help, or I’m too tired, and I still self-injure.
8/
But perhaps what helps most is taking the pressure off. Knowing I don’t have to stop self-injury if don’t want to.
This is a skilful, sophisticated survival strategy. I have to weigh that against the risks & the judgement of others.
It’s my body, my choice.
9/
Having choice is critical.
Most of us who use self-injury have a trauma history. Our power was taken away, often power over what happens to our bodies.
I think this is always part of SI too. We get to hold the power, and it’s important others don’t steal that from us.
10/
I know that trying to stop right now is not what I want. My life has been looking up, but there are still dark times when self-injury helps keep me alive.
I feel angry at ignorant people who pressure us to stop without understanding this may increase our suicide risk.
11/
For me, that’s meant knowing how to injure without needing medical attention. Having first aid supplies & skills, and clean equipment.
12/
It also means having a trusted person I can talk to about it, who doesn’t pressure me to stop, who is up for confronting conversations, who never judges me.
It’s hard to find someone like that. So if you can, try to be that person for someone.
13/
And finally, I want to comment on some of the ignorant, cruel stuff out there.
Random strangers think it’s ok to stare & insult us if scars are showing.
Mental health staff can be the worst, drawing on nasty stereotypes & often having no understanding or compassion.
14/
It’s hard, that stuff hurts horribly.
But increasingly I’m wearing my scars with more pride. These are marks of survival & strength. If others don’t like it, they can bloody well look somewhere else.
We deserve to be in the world. And the world can & should learn from us.
15/
I want to say too that all self-injury is ‘serious’.
The seriousness is not about the size or depth of a cut. It’s about the need behind it, what took us there… and that’s always something serious that deserves to be heard with compassion.
16/
Most of my self-injury is in places you’ll never see. Some of it doesn’t leave a visible mark.
What you might see, on any of our bodies, is nowhere near the whole story.
But the story is there. It isn’t a meaningless ‘symptom’ of ‘mental illness’. We need to listen more.
17/
I hope for a world of ‘unhiding’ that can one day say:
You do not have to hide.
Your scars are not shameful.
They are the shadow stories of injustice, trauma & big pain that no-one would see.
They are the beautiful hollows & ridges of your survival.
I’m here to listen.
18/
If anyone reading this thread is seeking more info on self-injury that’s non-pathologising, these are 2 books I have & can happily recommend:
Since releasing the Seclusion Report I can’t count how many times I’ve heard of #MentalHealth nurses saying ‘it’s not possible to eliminate seclusion & restraint because of occupational violence’.
I call bullshit on that excuse, and here’s why… 🧵
1/6
The cause of seclusion is not because we’re aggressive towards you.
The cause is *your* violent practice—and the larger violent system you work in.
2/6
Yep sometimes we’re aggressive towards you. That’s because
You
Are
A
Threat
So maybe stop that.
What do I mean by threat? You lock us up, force treatments, impose punitive infantilising rules, ignore & judge us, breach our rights. It’s normal to fight back against that.
3/6
Here's some snippets from this morning's lecture on trauma (Masters of Social Work at @UniMelbMDHS).
I give a broad lens on what trauma is. So it's not about types of trauma 'events' so much as personal experience & impacts. Not just emotional but also identity & belief impacts.
I remind students that most psychiatric consumers are actually trauma survivors, regardless of 'diagnosis' - including folks with 'psychosis' labels.
Trauma impacts us differently, and there are usually good reasons for this if they take time to listen and explore with us.
I talk about the context of trauma which is so often missed. It's not just the 'big bad thing', but often what came before & after (or what didn't happen) that shapes our trauma experience.
eg, for me the silencing afterwards was just as traumatic, maybe more, than the abuse.