To Write Love on Her Arms is a movement/non-profit
organization, raising awareness of suicide, depression and self-injury. It's really an amazing thing, and I
am so excited that it is happening. I never thought that when I was thirteen
years old, that such a movement would evolve. But now it is happening, people
are becoming aware of the battles that teenagers fight. And I am here to say
that it is not just a phase that they will overcome. I wonder how many people
know my struggle, how many have walked the bloody battle grounds, in order to
find themselves. Hope has always been a faint whisper in the back of my mind. I
have been there and done it all. The cutting, the drugs, the alcohol, the sex,
and I am on the other side looking back, and I am alive and happy. Although the
pain from self-injury is gone my scars will remain
forever on my body. I hate them, even though they tell a powerful story.
I have a really big scar on my right arm, which is about an inch across and
four inches long. I should have gone to the hospital, I should have gotten
stitches, I should have gotten antibiotics, but I never did. I let this gaping
wound throb and heal for years. I have a dark secret in my soul, it is
depression. And I should have gone to the hospital, and I should have gotten
medication, but I didn't. I let the gaping wound throb and heal for years. I
tell myself that I shouldn't here. That I if it were not for Jesus I would
be dead. God only knows how things would have ended up for me. But I can guess
and it isn't good. I am left with a story on my body, and even though the pain
has dissipated the scars remain. I hate them, but I think that God loves them
because the tell a story of his redemption and love. Not everyone has their
testimony on their body. And no matter what language you speak we can all
understand pain. I like to think of my scars as musical notes, maybe separate
they are only one note that can go unnoticed, but together they are a symphony
and they sing a song for everyone to hear.