new scars on my arm

2

Some days–and they were the best days–I’d get to see Annie. And I’d kiss her like she was the last good thing on this earth. She was. She’d comment on my new scars, the track marks on my arms. She’d ask where I’d been, if there was someone else. I told her the truth, that I was part of a study and that I was saving up for us. I don’t know if she believed me. She’d tell me she was scared, and ask me when we were running away. I’d tell her soon. Soon wasn’t good enough. Nothing would ever be good enough for her. But I tried to be. I tried so hard.

Review.

We saw our CPN and had a review, it’s safe to say we’re feeling unsettled following it. Our system is adapting to all the changes moving house brings and we have had workers change roles so the changes are getting a little bit too overwhelming. I feel like I’m living in a bubble of dissociation and denial right now.

Our risk assessment is worse than before which instantly made me feel like shit because it feels like I’m going backwards though I know recovery is full of ups and downs. She was asking about the new scars Red made on our arm and asking about my own suicidal thoughts.. I try hard to be open but I don’t trust her and don’t see her often enough to really feel comfortable having that conversation.

She also questioned our therapy situation. Obviously with it being private it’s between us and our therapist but she was asking what the time frame is for it as we’ve been going 6 years and started talking about people who get too reliant on therapists. I explained that our therapist and I have actually talked about this and don’t think this is the case - she is more than just a therapist to us because she is the only irl person apart from my partner who has been there for us consistently, no matter how bad things got, and she has always gone above and beyond to help us. She and my partner are the reasons we’re alive right now. That sounds melodramatic but it is true. Our CPN then said some people are in therapy all their lives so kind of mixed messages there..

We’re no longer seeing the new Mind worker because she reminds us of someone we don’t want to think about. No one will replace her, not for some time anyway. There is no chance of seeing our old one (which we had been told was a possibility) so I’m gutted about that. I shouldn’t have got my hopes up but hey.. Soon we’ll stop seeing the NHS support worker (who has been involved in our care for over 7 years) and she won’t be replaced. Our CPN is going to be replaced at some point but they still don’t know when (it was originally meant to be last November but it keeps getting put off..) It’s stopped me opening up to this one much because I’m not going to open up to someone who I know is going to leave soon.

We have to go in for a review of our direct payments in August, which is basically funding for 8 hours a week support - 2 hours was with Mind, 6 hours with the lady who takes us to therapy twice a week (it’s an hour away so a 3 hour round trip each time). Obviously the Mind support is stopping but we can’t lose the other 6 hours. My partner isn’t well enough to drive us to therapy. I can drive but can’t be alone and haven’t actually driven in a couple of years.

When we have the review our CPN said we’ll have to say how the funding is helping our progress and explain to them our plans for any continued funding - she said if it’s just taking us to therapy they won’t fund it for long as they need to see you’re building on it.. but that’s not all she does - that’s 6 hours a week we manage to leave the house without my partner and 6 hours a week my partner gets to herself (we are literally always together apart from that). It helps our independence, it’s someone else for our support network, it’s a new friend, and of course it’s getting us to the one therapy option that has ever worked and continues to work for us. But I have to think of what to say to them to prove that it’s more than “just” that because apparently they don’t fund unless they see relatively fast progress..

Urgh. Sorry now I’m ranting. That funding is the one useful thing the NHS actually does for us now. We’ve lost our old Mind worker who was getting us out the house without my partner, we can’t see the new Mind worker because of triggers. We will lose the NHS support worker. We will have another CPN at some point “soon” when they get their asses in gear. I don’t even know who our psychiatrist is right now because I haven’t had a meds review in over a year (though to be fair I don’t think I need one). Inpatient and crisis services aren’t an option for us anymore. The one thing I need the NHS to keep doing is the direct payments so we can get to therapy.

We can barely afford the therapy itself (which we have to pay for because the NHS couldn’t provide any therapy in the first place). We really can’t afford the therapy and the travel costs. The lady who takes us can’t do it for free and I wouldn’t ask her to. It’s literally our only option and now I’m already anxious about a review that is over 2 months away.

If you’ve read all this thank you, I do apologise I wasn’t intending it to be such a rant. I’m just feeling quite overwhelmed and paranoid that we’re relying too much on our therapist. The CPN said ask yourself if the therapist had to suddenly stop seeing you for some reason how would you cope and internally we were saying we’d fall apart. Does that mean we’re reliant? Abandonment issues are popping up, we don’t want to lose our therapist.

I'm Different - Weasley Twin Imagine

-Requested-

~
Hey love! So here’s the thing tomorrow’s my birthday. Will you mind doing one shot with Fred and George where you’re their girlfriend and lately you’ve been acting weird and they found out that you have depression and self harms and eating disorder and they start to take care of you like have you been eating how are your arms and in some time you start feeling better and you make them special surprise to thank them and can you make the end fluffy?
~

A/n: Happy Birthday! I hope you had an amazing day!💕

~Warning: Mentions of Self-harm!~

~(Y/n)’s POV~

Depression is the worst thing imaginable. Depression makes me feel like I’m trapped inside of a dark room and no one will hear me because they just don’t understand. Depression has lead me to think that more pain is needed for me to be satisfied because I want to feel something other than numbness. I cut my arms with a small razor blade at least once a day or more if I feel like I need it. Since I’ve been having this for a few years, it’s effected me quite a bit.

I start to feel self conscious about my body when I get ready and look into the body mirror in my room. I felt fat and looked fat from the view of my eyes, which lead me to have anorexia. I thought there was no hope for me at all and that there was no reason to live until I met Fred and George Weasley. They gave me something that I was never able to get from friends or parents. They gave me happiness.

Once I started dating them I felt a slight difference in me. I kind of like myself now. They call me ‘beautiful’ each day and they make sure that that’s how I feel when I’m around them. I always thought ‘How would they react?’ If I told them about all the things that are happening to me. Then, it hit me. I’m not going to tell them. Why worry them when they have other things to worry about? They have school to worry about, they have a whole business to worry about. I don’t want to keep them from doing what they want.

“Good Morning, Miss. (Y/l/n)” Madam Pomfrey says giving me a warming smile in which I return.

“Good morning” I’ve been coming to the hospital wing everyday ever since I stepped foot in hogwarts. My parents talked to Dumbledore who was quite understanding about my problems. He told Madam Pomfrey and she’s been giving me antidepressants ever since. I’ve been super cautious ever since I started dating Fred and George to make sure they knew I wasn’t going to the hospital wing. Today, they had a match against Ravenclaw and I’m sure they won’t be looking for me in the screaming crowds.

Madam Pomfrey passes me the pills and a glass of water. I thank her before swallowing them with my head tilted backwards. I roll up my sleeves and show her my forearms where old and new scars are shown on my skin. She looks at me briefly before running her hands over them. I know what she’s thinking and she has the right to think it.

“I’m sorry. Sometimes I can’t help it…” I cry wiping my stray tears away with my fingers. She was about to say something but her mouth was left open when the doors of the hospital wing swung open.

“Madam Pomfrey! He’s hurt! We- (Y/n)?” It was George and Fred with Harry held in between them. I move the curtains that are near the bed and cover myself which really is a pathetic move especially since they obviously seen me. The curtains moved roughly to the side to show Fred and George both with a curious and worried look on their face.

“Hey guys! How was the game?” I try to play it off but I see them staring at my scarred forearms. I quickly roll my sleeves down and whimpered in pain as my quick actions presses down on one of my new scars. They both grab one of my arms and roll up the sleeves to reveal that some of the scars are now bleeding. I look to the side of the room because if I made eye contact with them I would surely cry.

“What happened?” Fred said. The tone of his voice is shaky and demanding at the same time.

“Can you at least look at us?” George said softly, I hesitate but look. Blinking back tears that threaten to fall. I shake my head and look at Madam Pomfrey, I nod telling her to tell them what’s going on. They sit on either side of me each of them clutching one of my hands in theirs tightly.

“Miss. (Y/l/n) has major depression including Anorexia.” Madam Pomfrey says, I keep my head down and focus on my feet. I feel tears running down my cheeks and I see tears falling onto my lap. “I’ll leave you three for a moment”. I hear the curtains move and now it’s silent. I can feel my heart beating against my chest.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” George asked.

“How long have you been like this?” Fred asked. I can’t help but cry loudly. I knew I couldn’t keep something like this from them. They were already suspicious when I wouldn’t eat at meals.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to tell you because I was scared.”

“Scared of what?” They said together.

“Scared of you not loving me because I’m different.” I cry, they stay silent only for a moment before they start hugging me tightly which always comforts me in any situation. “What are you doing?” I sniffle.

“We’re hugging you because we love you, no matter what you have. You’re special to us and that will never change” Fred says.

“Really?”

“Are you serious? You’re the most amazing person we have ever met! I love you.” George says. I say I love you too followed by a kiss from the both of them.

“Are you sure?” I ask, Fred makes contact with George and they smile goofily at each other making me laugh.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure about anything in my entire life” Fred whispers, I kiss him lovingly.

“Hey! I’m still here!” George exclaims pouting his bottom lip, I smile and kiss him softly too.

~1 Month Later~

Life hasn’t exactly been easy but with Fred and George they make the road less bumpier. They go with me to the hospital wing everyday and ask Madam Pomfrey how am I going with my recovery. I wish I would have told them in the beginning because they’ve been so helpful and it just make me feel better I every single way. They always make sure I eat at every meal and they check my arms every morning and every night to make sure I haven’t harmed myself in anyway. I walk into the Great Hall and sit down next to Fred and George who were already eating lunch. I look at the sandwiches that are just sitting on the plate in front of me.

“Why did you have for breakfast?” George asks putting a sandwich on my plate and serving me a bowl of soup.

“I skipped breakfast” I mutter totally forgetting about it. Fred sighs.

“Make sure you eat, okay?” Fred tells me, I nod my head and begin to eat my hot soup slowly. After, lunch we go to the library where we studied for our potions exams. It was getting near supper and outside was getting quite dark.

“How are you’re arms?” George asks, I roll my sleeves up and show them my fore arms where old scars lay not a single new one for weeks. They smile and I can’t help but smile too. They’ve been there for me every single day, every hour, every minute. They’re my everything and that will never change.

~The Next Day~

“Come on! No peeking!” I tell the twins who have they’re eyes shut tight. I decided to reward them for everything they’ve done for me. I hold their hands and guide them up the stairs. We reach the top and I tell them to open their eyes. I created a little picnic at the top of the astronomy tower with candles and flying paper birds that they showed me how to create. I brought loads of things from the kitchens. Pumpkin pasties, Chocolate frogs, bottle of butterbeers, and a bunch of other things.

“Surprise!” I smile, they both kiss me making me smile even wider. I sit down on the blanket I spread out and begin to pop open three bottles of butterbeer.

“Why are you doing this?” George asks.

“Because both of you have been there for me ever since you found out and I want to show you how grateful I am to have both of you in my life” I whisper, they raise their butterbeers and we clank them together. After eating most of the food I’ve brought we lay in the blanket looking up into the dark sky, where the moon shines brightly with stars surrounding it. I lay in between them, I’m tangled in their arms.

“I will love you till the day that I die” I whisper wanting the boys to know how much I love them. I look at both of them to see them sleeping, light snores coming from their mouths. I grab an extra blanket from out of my basket and lay it over us.

“Goodnight” I whisper kissing both of them on the forehead before slowly drifting off to sleep in their arms.

~~Kristian

The Soulmate Scars Theory (Daichi Katsuragi)

Hello lovelies! This is my entry for voltagefanbase‘s 2000 follower contest. It’s based on a prompt I saw a few weeks back. I hope you all enjoy!! (ps. I have to get up for work in 4 hours but this was totally worth the all nighter!) :)

Prompt: The mysterious cuts and bruises that suddenly appear are actually injuries that your soulmate has obtained, and you share the same marks on your skin.


It was a recent theory, ‘The Soulmate Scars’ people called it. My parents called it ridiculous. Maybe that’s because none of their scars seemed to match up together. Maybe that’s why they fought so often.

The Soulmate Scars first made headlines about twenty years prior. The institution claimed to have found evidence supporting bonds between soulmates. Only a few people even took the study serious. The theory behind it showed up more often in children’s fairy tales than in any actual academic classroom. But then those children grew up, and in an instant the generation old theory became a real romantic potential notion. The internet became a trove of information. There were a multitude of blogs, articles, and forums to stumble upon. All dedicated to those who indeed found another with matching imperfections.

I examined my body in the bathroom mirror with the usual utmost scrutiny. Another one appeared. I traced the new scar along my upper arm. He must be a clumsy one. As a child my parents, the logical sort they were, fought hard against the new soulmate theory making headlines. They insisted it was complete and utter nonsense, and that one day I would grow up and meet someone wonderful and realize that fact on my own. After graduating college and starting a successful career of course. But still the idea intrigued me. So I would listen in to the gossip the other kids spread; the children of less strict logistical parentage. The children whose parents would let them dream.

The new scar joined many others, far too many to count. The marks were the reason why I couldn’t quite believe my parents when they claimed the whole theory was ridiculous. True I am a little clumsy, constantly tripping over myself, and bumping into things. Those should cause only bruises though, not leave behind actual scars. Not that my naive young self knew any better. My parents being far too busy for me, never rouse the slightest bit of fuss when a new strange mark would arrive. I guarantee they never even noticed.

It was during my teenage years when the marks dramatically increased. Previous a new mark would appear every so often, the old one used to fade long before a new one showed. Instead they seemed to show up on a fairly regular basis now. I didn’t pay them much attention until a couple years later. I was eighteen and attending a friend’s baseball game. A foul ball popped upwards, the sun’s bright rays blocking out where it would land. “Head’s up!”  the coaches called. Well… I stupidly looked up. And WHAM. Struck me right in the face. The thick sunglasses I was luckily wearing had saved my vision, I had only a tiny scar across the bridge of my nose from the strong impact. That’s when I knew.

All those other scars could not possibly be mine. The baseball incident was the first time I had ever gotten injured, aside from the stray cut here and there of course. I compared my injury to the newest scar that made its appearance only the day before. Mine was still red and slightly swollen, it had bled like crazy until the doctors stitched it up. The wound looked so fresh, so unlike the other scar. When had any of the other marks ever swelled? Bled? Never. Not once. That’s when I knew. I had to have a soulmate out there. It must be his injuries showing on my body. It was the only explanation for my scarred and bruised body. I kept my newfound secret from my parents. They wouldn’t understand. But each time a new scar appeared I would lightly trace it, knowing it was another injury my soulmate obtained. Knowing there was nothing I could do to make him feel better.

Keep reading

The way you walk will change. You will teach your body a certain posture. Something that says “please do not approach me”. You will walk with your wrists pressed against your sides as if they were glued there.

It has been 18 months and every time someone says “cut”, I cringe. I was in the car with my friend when she exclaimed “that person just cut me off!”. I instantly glanced at my arm. Almost checking to make sure there were no new scratches.

My scars have turned white and they highlight my arms and thighs. This is not pretty. You do not want this. You do not want little kids staring at you like you’re from another planet. You don’t want your grandparents asking you what caused that, and you really don’t want to have to tell them “Myself.”

“Showers sting” is something you’ll hear a lot of. True, they do sting. But so does the way your family looks at you. The way your friends avoid certain topics. The realization you don’t even remember when it all started, or why. Or how you let it get this bad.

If you have anxiety now just wait! Constantly making sure sleeves are pulled down 24/7. Hiding the bandages.
Hiding the weapon of choice. Hiding yourself from everyone. So much hiding. Both waiting, and fearful for someone to notice you.

Its been 18 months and I still have new doctors grab my arm and say, “oh no. What happened there?” As if its any of their business. Like I really feel like going over this again. It follows you around like a shadow.

Some days you’ll forget that used to be your go-to method. It almost feels like it happened to a different person. But all I have to do is look at my body for the proof.

My point in this is, self harm will control you. Even when you have recovered. It will still affect parts of your life. I am 18 months in recovery and I still deal with the aftermath of it. Do not start so help me God, do not start. And if you already have, may you find a reason to stop.

People may stare but I am able to wear bathing suits again. I don’t have to wear long sleeved shirts during the summer. When showers stopped stinging, I started healing. You can too.

—  For those who are struggling (you’re not alone)