Cut, just cut; it will make you feel better.
Remember how good it used to feel?
Look it even brings a smile to your face now thinking about it, the freedom, the release you felt.

Doing this now will bring you control.

Wait.

No don’t cut, it’s not the right choice.
Well if you won’t cut; you should die instead.
Imagine how good that would feel?  No more pain, no more hurdles, no more hopelessness.
You will be free, so free…

Wait.

I can’t die. I can’t leave my daughter.

Who’s voice is it?
Who’s voice is telling me to cut and to die?
Maybe others have that voice too?

I thought until recently this was my voice.
My 37 year old voice, my voice resolving my problems in life, mostly arguments with my husband when we don’t meet eye to eye.

I realised recently realised this isn’t my voice.
This is my 16 year old voice.
This was when she had no options, when she was trapped without an escape from her abuse.
With no one to tell.
No where safe to run and hide.
She’d already endured 3 years of abuse and no end in sight.
So cutting became an option for release; it was a choice.
Something she could feel in control of.
She could do it in secret at school, her only safe place from abuse.
She could cut her upper thighs with a razor blade, just enough to draw blood.
But…not enough to cause a scar or draw attention.
It was her choice, hers to control and only hers; the only way to feel good, the only way to feel strong and powerful.
When all she felt was lost.
It is also my 19 year old voice. When after 6 years of abuse with no way out she had decided that dying was the only option left.

In life when I feel hopeless, when there is no resolution in sight, when I feel trapped- the girl I was is there.

It’s time to cut and to die’, she whispers.

Wait…

But I am in control now, I am 37, I am not her anymore.

Now I know it is her voice and not mine.
I can talk to her.
I can tell her I am an adult now.
I am not trapped.
I have choices and whatever situation I am in now, I choose to be in it or I can choose to leave.

So I thank her for her help, thanks but no thanks…I have better options to choose from now. I tell her ‘you are safe now, you don’t need to protect me’.
And I send that little girl back to the vast field I have created for her in my mind, full of tall wispy purple flowers, where she lies amongst them looking up at a beautiful blue afternoon sky just before sunset. She feels a gentle breeze and the warmth of the sun on her skin and she can breathe without restriction.

She smiles and is free to be a little girl and do her favourite thing- read.

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