History of a hurting soul

Some things in life are difficult - if not, impossible - to explain to other people. In what follows, you, dear reader, will be witness of one of those things. As I wrote in an earlier post, May is the Borderline Personality Disorder Awareness month, and as June is approaching really fast, I wanted to dedicate one more post to a topic that has something to do with borderline, a topic that is still a very, very big taboo, even in so-called "free" countries, which have freedom of speech, freedom of religion, freedom of sexual inclination, freedom of you-name-it. 

I appreciate the reactions on my earlier post because for years it has been very difficult for me to talk about this subject, even in general. In what follows, I'll talk about the biggest taboo considering borderline, namely the so-called "self-punishment" which can eventually end in suicide. There isn't necessarily a link between the fact that some people hurt themselves and suicide, but for people with borderline, these two are sometimes intertwined. However, I belong to the group of people who cut (simple past, not present!) themselves in order to stay alive and to cope with the difficulties of this life...

Here in the Netherlands the weather has been extremely nice since a week or two - that is, until today. That means that there are people burnt by the sun practically everywhere after a day out on the beach or in a park. That also means that people are walking around with few clothing. And there already raises a big problem for me. I can't walk around like that, not because I wouldn't like to - I mean, with more than 25 degrees Centigrade everyone would like to walk around in shorts and a sleeveless shirt - but because I feel embarrassed. See, the problem is that I have these scars... on my legs, but especially on my arms. And I can tell you from my own experience that these scars can scare the hell out of people. I've seen looks of horror, fear and incomprehension or even a cocktail of these three. That's why I prefer to walk around dressed in long trousers and a shirt or sweater with long sleeves. But when it's hot - like it's been during the past two weeks - I allow myself to walk around in short sleeves and three-quarter trousers. However, there are exceptions, the most important one being walking around at the university. You will never see me in short sleeves in class, I feel ashamed and I'm extremely fearful of the reactions of my fellow students and teachers. 

I started cutting myself 12 years ago, when I was 17, but I've already been "clean" for over 3 years. That's a great achievement, but it's not easy. Sometimes I have this temptation... "Just once more, just for this one difficult moment..." However, I don't do it, because I know from personal experience that it's so difficult to go back from cutting to no more cutting at all. But there is more. My two nieces - 4 and 7 years old - ask me questions about the scars: "Auntie, where did you get these? What are they?" What should I tell these two beautiful princesses who apparently seem to love me? I can't tell them the truth, not yet, they're too young. So I tell them I got involved in a serious accident when I was younger...

It all started quite innocently: I only drew lines on my arms with a pencil, but after a little while I changed over to scissors. Later on, I used knives and pieces of broken glass. I only realised that it was serious when I admitted it to a teacher at my secondary school and he was shocked and said that it was an anomaly. That was exactly the word he used: "anomaly". Only later did I find out that it has in fact a name: automutilation or self injury. But until then, I had never seen it on TV or from somebody else. It really was my personal strategy of survival, because the pain I felt deep inside was so powerful that I couldn't cope with it in a normal way. 


I've made some pictures of my own mutilated arms, but I'm not going to put those on my blog. Still, I want you to watch the next video carefully, especially when the video is at 2.39. (WARNING: not for sensitive persons!) I also carved a word in my left arm once (GUILT), and if you are aware of that, you can make out some of the letters that are still visible as scars.

You may think now that talking about this subject is easy for me, because I think I've been quite open until now. That is far from the truth, however. It's not easy at all. I've been writing and rewriting this post for hours, and I'm still not happy with the result. I've changed the title a dozen times. It's important for me that I explain this well, because every day is a new confrontation with my mutilated body. Every day I have to accept that I did irreversible things to myself. I've thougt about having an operation a few times, but I know that there is a slight possibility that I will start over when I have "new", unaffected arms and legs. Doesn't make sense? Well, think of this: every scar tells a story, every scar is the result of something that happened in the past. You can't completely erase your past, because your past is a part of you. 

I'm thankful to God that He has helped me to stop this habit. I'm also thankful that He has brought me in contact with the people from the church. Last Monday was the first day I went short-sleeved, and NOBODY, not a single person, looked at me with eyes full of horror or fear, not a single person made a rude remark or whatsoever. They all seemed to accept me the way I am, and honestly, that felt awesome. Never before has a group of persons reacted so wisely when they were confronted with my scars.


Don't judge people by their appearance. Just don't judge people in general. You never know how beautiful they can be on the inside... 

The orange ribbon stands for self-injury awareness. Be aware that about 5% of the Dutch population between 17 and 25 years old has hurt him- or herself at least once. I couldn't find exact numbers, it's still an estimated amount of people, but I do know that it is much more common for women to injure themselves than for men. Men prefer drugs or alcohol abuse while women prefer self injury. Help us by not judging us. We are not insane, we do - or in my case, did - this in order to survive. 


PS: I'm writing my Master's thesis at the moment, so I have to focus on what I'll do after I've finished my studies. I'd like to be a Spanish teacher, preferably at a bilingual or international school. However, I don't see myself as a full-time teacher. I'd like to help people who are going through the same as I have been through and sometimes still go through. I'd like to work part-time as a 'hands-on' expert. I'd like to visit schools to bring awareness among youngsters. It's important that the taboo disappears and that people learn healthier ways of dealing with painful and strong emotions. I hope I can be part of a team that helps to do away with the taboo on self injury. It's so important to be understood properly, I know what I'm talking about. It took me years, and I know that I'm not the only one. Self injury is probably a bigger problem than you might think. Be aware that we are very good at hiding our injuries and our real emotions. Support us. Don't judge us.

A dog's life...

Yesterday, I read the following post by Paulo Coelho on my Facebook: 

"Life is too short, or too long, for me to allow myself the luxury of living it badly."

And that is the truth, so we'd better take Mr. Coelho's advice seriously. One thing that strikes me is that animals live their life fully, and - provided they have a good life - they seem to enjoy each and every moment of their life. That counts for Chico as well as for Xera, my sister's and brother-in-law's dog. But unfortunately, these are her last days...Next week, they'll probably put her down, and that is really sad...

Xera is a labrador retriever with a pedigree, and she's almost 14 years old. But unfortunately, she'll never reach that age. It will stop at 13 and a little bit more. The first time I met her, she was just a few weeks old, and I remember that moment vividly. She staggered on her tiny legs and came towards me to sit in my lap. That was really special, you could call it quality time, because I'll never forget that moment. 

Unfortunately, I don't have any pictures from Xera when she was just a puppy, because I bought my first camera when she was about 3 years old. Wasn't she lovely?

Xera is not just another cute labrador. When she was almost two years old, she went to Turkey, which had suffered a serious earthquake that took thousands of lives - more than 17,000 to be precise, with an even larger amount of seriously injured people. That must have been in August 1999. Xera was trained as a rescue dog and found 4 or 5 persons who were still alive under the debris. She also found lots of dead people. Anyway, it was an outstanding performance, especially because she was still so young. My brother-in-law appeared on the news and in the Belgian newspapers with his Xera, and I was so proud of both of them. 

As you probably know, I've always loved animals, dogs in particular, but my parents didn't allow me to have one. So when my brother-in-law finally saw his dream come true when he got Xera, mine also partly came true. I've loved Xera from the moment we met. When she looks at you with those gorgeous labrador eyes, you immediately fall in love with her. But her days are numbered, and the next few days will be extremely difficult, not in the least for my two nieces who've known their Xera all their lives and who will love her forever. When they heard that their favourite pet would have to be put down, they broke out in tears, both of them. Especially the oldest one, Indra, is very attached to her Xera. Just a few months ago she was so proud to take Xera with her to class to tell about what Xera had achieved in Turkey so many years ago. But since then, Xera's health has seriously deteriorated. 

Indra and her two best friends, Indra and Kyana

Two weeks ago, I was in Belgium with my family, and I knew I'd probably spend my last moments with Xera, so I took my time to say goodbye to such a true and loyal friend. Although she wasn't mine, her presence has been so familiar for the last 13 years. So it was difficult to say goodbye, but now, I'll have to let her go...

  
This is one of the pictures I took two weeks ago. As I'm writing this, tiny little tears are running down my face. I never thought this would affect me so badly, but I'm really going to miss her. However, I see that this animal is suffering. Not only is she completely deaf and partly blind, she also has difficulties with walking. So rational Debbie is telling herself that Xera's better off when she's freed from the miserable life and the pain she has right now. But my heart says something completely different because I'd like to share one more moment with her, just one more. I want to make her feel my love for her. But that moment will never come. It's too late for that now... I only hope God also has a heaven for dogs, because that is where Xera belongs, that's for sure. 

RIP Xera, 29/5/2012

PS: I was about to finish this post when something sprung to mind. It's so natural for a vet and for people in general to put an animal down, and people have little or no problems with the fact that this opportunity is available for animals. I have to agree with them. I think that, however it's a tough decision, you should act in such a way that the animal doesn't suffer, when the time has come. But now I would like to add a critical note. Why make so many people such a fuss about euthanasia? Why is it in the case of human beings an ethical issue? Why does the taboo about euthanasia exist, even still today? I think people should have the right to decide about their own lives and consequently also about their own deaths. But maybe I should write about this topic in another post, because if I'm not mistaken, every religion has problems to deal with the idea of euthanasia. And I think that's unfair.

So maybe you're one of those who are strongly opposed to euthanasia. Or you think there actually really is a difference between human beings and animals when it comes to life and death. Or... Try to convince me that I'm wrong, but remember two rules: rule 1: I'm always right. Rule 2: When I'm not right, then you'll have to apply rule one ;) No, just joking, I'll be happy to read your comments, as always.

Just that tiny little bit more...

Not so long ago, I posted a poll on my blog to ask how you would describe yourself when it comes to religion. I was quite curious to find out if religion is still something worth mentioning nowadays. To be honest, I've been struggling with religion since I was old enough to think for myself. I was born in a region in Belgium where religion is important, but not officially. I mean, I was baptised in a catholic church, I made my first Communion and the holy Confirmation, I always went to catholic schools, where we had to go to church a few times a year. But apart from those moments, I hardly set foot in a church. My parents never prayed in front of my sister and me, nor did we read the Bible at home. So I wasn't really acquainted with religion. All I knew about religion was the stuff we learnt at school. However, there was a period in which I went to church every Sunday with my cousin. We must have been 10 or 12 at that time, and there were special events for children during the sermon which meant quite good fun. But this didn't last for long. It was a mere whim, I suppose.

 

My secondary school still had a few nuns who taught some courses, but they were especially there to keep order and to teach us how to be decent girls (at that time, only girls were admitted to that school :O). At the age of 13, I had become a true atheist, however. I've thrown away my diaries from that period - what a waste! - so I can't really recall how it looked like in real life, but I couldn't believe that there was a God while there was also so much misery, pain and disaster in the world. If there really was a God, how could He allow all this to happen? 

I can't say that I renounced to Catholicism altogether, though. There was still that tiny, little voice that kept asking me: "What if there really IS a God, and you die and he doesn't accept you in heaven because you renounced to Him?" However, as I didn't get real religious input from home, I wasn't really fond of God and His son Jesus. And it even got worse as I got older. At the age of 15, I was quite sure there wasn't any God out there. I had lost too many family members and had seen and experienced too much pain by that time. 

Then, when I was 16, I started spending my time with books about all types of science: astronomy in particular, but also philosophy, geology, archaeology... you name it. I realised that the world was more complex than I'd initially thought, so I tried to learn as much as possible about the world, its origin, its history and its people. I firmly believed in the Big Bang theory and in evolution, so why bother about religion? God was just another invention of us, inhabitants of planet Earth, and the creation described in the Bible was just another made-up story. People are good at inventing stories and stuff like that. At the same time, I was fascinated by the wonders of nature. I admired the universe with its millions of stars and billions of galaxies, I admired nature with its many different species, animals as well as plants. And because of that admiration, I was struck with awe, and I could no longer believe that all this was just there without any reason, just by coincidence. And because everything is so perfect - think of the availability of water and oxygen on our planet that allow us to live, for example - I was convinced that there was more. And that's when I decided that there should be forces in nature that direct all of this, that there should be Gods of nature. Yes, that's when I became a polytheist.

 

I realised that it wouldn't be easy, because, as far as I know, there is no such thing as a "bible" for polytheists, nor is there much written about it. Furthermore, polytheism is mostly associated with religions from the past, descending from the period of the Egyptians, Greeks and Romans. But I was sure: there were these wonderful Gods of Nature. And due to the absence of a "handbook", I started to write my own prayers and to do my own rituals. I was overwhelmed by the power of the Gods of nature, although I could also be afraid of them. Because, as you might know, I'm scared when there is a thunderstorm, I've always been, since I was a child. And at the moment of a thunderstorm, an earthquake or a vulcanic eruption, I always thought that the Gods were angry with the people on Earth. This type of religion wasn't just a whim, although at a certain point, I must 've get bored with it, because I can remember that I fluctuated between atheism and polytheism and ended up being an atheist again for a couple of years.


Only years later, more or less 4 years ago now, I saw the light, almost literally. I was converted to Christianity again by a psychiatric nurse in the clinic where I was admitted at that moment. It's a long story, but it practically boils down to what was already written in the Bible: Even before you ask God for a sign - something that can prove that He really exists - he will already have given it to you. And that is exactly what happened to me. When I read that verse in the Bible - it was either in Matthew or Mark, but I can't recall where exactly - I was struck by surprise and awe. I could no longer pretend as if God didn't exist.

So, it's been four years now, and although I am not a very active Christian - Protestant, for that matter, not Catholic anymore - I truly believe in God and I also believe that His only son, Jesus, died for us, so that we could live. He has given me that tiny, little bit more that I had been looking for for all those years. And I have given Him my heart in return. I know it's not enough, but it's a start. He has changed my life completely, and I'm thankful for that.

Somehow, people who believe in God and Jesus are being considered a little bit "old-fashioned", "naive", "boring" and "gullible" or maybe even "freaky". Why is that? I think the critics should go to a few churches on Sunday - an activity I've taken up just two weeks ago and that felt really good - and just try them out, and they should meet some (moderate) Christians and talk to them. I mean, I will never ever try to convice somebody that he/she should be converted, but I would try to answer their questions if they had any and I would tell them about my experiences. The most striking fact is that you don't have to renounce to science if you want to believe in God. You can perfectly combine your scientific understandings with religion, and that's exactly what I do. I'm convinced that God created the universe, so the Big Bang was His idea. I believe that He created plants, animals, and us, people. He made sure that his plan to create humans would succeed in the end by using evolution. He loves us so much that He has given us our brain, which helps us to invent new tecnology day after day, so that we can save other people's lives or make life on Earth easier. He has made everything perfect. Look for example at pictures from the Hubble Space Telescope. It's all so beautiful... However, there are some disadvantages that he probably didn't foresee. People invent things that are not so good for other people or nature. There are wars, there is hunger, there is poverty, there are murders,... But this all happens because we, as human beings, also have a free will. 


Still, it's not easy to be a convinced Christian. I also have my weak moments, and then I think of the fact that people so easily invent things. Have you ever seen a real unicorn or a real dragon? Neither have I, so why wouldn't it be possible to invent a God? Also, the Bible is old, but books are written all the time, with invented stories that could be true. Think of Harry Potter, think of other books and movies. And what about injustice, as in children who die from hunger or cancer, people murdering others and getting away with it, and so on? So it's not easy to be a Christian, but I'm proud to be a Christian. I know that God is there for all of us. Also for you, dear reader...