Robot

I have a tin can heart.

It's been that way as long as I can remember. I think it really started when my parents got divorced--I blocked all of my emotions to do my best to keep our family together, to keep my brother safe. From the time of my parents divorce until my Grandpa's death about 10 years later--I didn't cry. Not for anyone, not for anything.

I kept everything locked up inside, hoping that by decreasing myself I would be more helpful to everyone else. What I ended up with was a part of me lost, rusted, tossed aside and dead.

I became a cutter when I was in high school. I finally got to the point that I wanted to feel something--even if it was pain. It was an emotion that I could control--it felt like an amazing release. I remember spending afternoons locked up in my room, slowly cutting away--neat geometric patterns on my thighs. I remember explaining to my friend when she saw a little that my cat had gotten me really badly the day before. I remember my first cuts--absolutely blatant on the back of my hand. No one said anything.

I cut for about a year and a half. Then I realized that part of what made me want to cut was the relationship I was in--and when he was gone, I was happier. So as soon as that relationship ended--I stopped. But I still remember why I started.

There are pieces of me that feel so robotic. My heart, with its ability to turn off emotion--or at least stash it away. My brain--constantly analytical, afraid to let my heart rule. Sometimes unable to process matters of the heart and soul. And my hand and wrist--they demonstrate how the other parts of me feel sometimes. When it is very cold out, and my left hand and wrist get too cold--I can barely move my hand and fingers. I can barely move my wrist. The result is a slow-motion movement of what I actually want to be doing. It's as though there is an eternity of processing time between my head and my hand.

I am battling the urge to continue to embrace the robotic solely. For me, it is the much easier road--the much more logical road. Why would I want to embrace that which I cannot control? That which I cannot predict? But a robot never feels elation, or the butterflies of a new love, the tenderness of love from a young child, the warmth from a cuddle. There will be heartbreak, and sorrow, and even more sleepless nights...but it is a decent price to pay to have a life filled with love.

If you think that someone you know may be a cutter--or you are one yourself--here's a link to get you started: Help with Self-Harm.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
11001110010000001101011100110000
In this robot heart of mine,
All I have is time...
I try to translate x's and o's,
But all that comes out
Are 1's and 0's....
A mess that
"Does not compute."