back away from the edge

i am having a different type of difficulty these days.

i’m reminded of it every time i look in the mirror, or brush hair from my face.

my hair hasn’t been this in my face for a very long time. shaving my head had become a very depended upon coping mechanism. i had reduced, or eliminated all the other ones. and most of the time, i had no extra money, or energy to go and find those things anyway, so i would always just resort to the easiest thing possible. which was always the electric razor, my hair, and my face staring back at me from that square above the sink in the bathroom. there was always a different expression, sometimes manic happiness, sometimes dread, sometimes tears, sometimes rage, sometimes nothing. but it was always too much of any of those things that had my hand moving towards my hair with that razor buzzing in my ear.

it’s been about six months since my hair has had time to grow.

it’s been about six months since taking self-harm and suicidal ideation off the table.

it’s like i cut off a part of me. when things get bad (which is almost every day, even if it’s just for a few minutes, or seconds… it always comes roaring out of nowhere…), i notice the pause, the gap in thoughts as they reorder themselves. because, self-harm and suicide are now off the table. for a while, those were the go-to for every single overwhelming emotion. through healing, my emotions don’t overtake me as much, or with as much force, or for as long as they used to.

but now, there’s hair in my face. and my eyes staring back at me in the mirror, looking more human by the day. i have all the tools to replace the other ways, and yet, here i am, terrified.

i can make, create, write, make something from nothing. i can, and i do.

i am not afraid of my hair. but i’m afraid of it reminding me forever of the time i took self-harm off the table and all the people who were in my life at the time and when will i need to cut it again? living with a visual, physical reminder of something so huge, and knowing the only time it will happen again is the next time your heart is so broken, you’re scared it will never beat properly again…

well, everything hurts. and i think this is what they call “healing”, but i wouldn’t know, since i’ve never experienced it before.

i’m standing on a cliff, waiting to fling myself off into the abyss, with only terror and a well-trodden trail left, telling me, This is exactly the way.

jump… others have done the same. and they’re waiting for you, but you have to jump.

so here i go. hair flying.