I Accidentally Burned Myself and I Liked It

TRIGGER WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS INFORMATION ABOUT SELF HARM (SELF INJURY) WHICH MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SURVIVORS.

by Elizabeth Yeter

My mom is leaving tomorrow. Yes the same mom from the false imprisonment blog. If you haven’t read that story, basically it’s about how, due to the COVID-19 stay-at-home directive, she got stuck at my house while visiting from San Francisco, and I haven’t let her go anywhere. That mini update on my previous point has a purpose too: to tell you what I was doing when I did what I did in the title of this post.

Because she was basically confined to the house, my mom had no need for a mask. But since she’s now going to be travelling on two airplanes and setting foot in three airports, she definitely needs one. I set up my sewing machine and pulled out the scrap fabric that I used to make a mask for myself. The design that I chose, after making a few uncomfortable masks, requires quite a bit of ironing, so I plugged the iron in and set it down to the left of the sewing machine.

Cutting, sewing, pleating, pressing. The TV is blaring. The kids are talking. I’m emotional, not just because my mom is leaving, but for another reason too that I don’t really feel like talking about today. And then it happened. I reached over to pause the DIY Youtube video on my phone and the side of the iron sizzled against my flesh. “Ouch!” I exclaimed. “You okay, Mom?” my daughter asked. “Oh yea, I just accidentally burned my arm on the iron,” I replied, putting a little undue emphasis on “accidentally.”

My daughter knows nothing about my history of self-harm. My scars have faded enough that people no longer stare at my arms. But as many self-harmers will attest, the feeling of being judged or having to explain injuries (and lie about them) is ever-present. And, if I’m being honest, I know I’ve used the old accidentally-burned-myself-on-the-iron excuse a time or two.

Gotta finish the mask. Gotta finish the mask. The accidental burn was a trigger, and I tried to focus my mind against letting it escalate. Why I don’t change the physical setup of my work station, I don’t know. Move the iron to the right side of the sewing machine. Put it on a different table altogether. Put my phone somewhere else. There’s a lot of things I could have done. I don’t do any of them. Subconsciously intentional? I don’t think so, but I’m no Freud.

And so it happens again. The sear is a little longer, and I know the burn is worse. Not horrible, just worse than the first one. Second degree, if I were to self-diagnose. This time I look.

Now for those of you reading this who have no experience with self-harm, you may not know that the pain involved with the act is important, but the physical injuries are too. There is satisfaction in seeing that you have appropriately punished yourself, and there is a visible representation to prove that. In fact, just looking at self-harm scars can be a trigger. I debated putting a picture of my accidental burn on this post, and ultimately ruled against it because of how upsetting and/or triggering it might be to those struggling with self-harm.

I liked the way the scars look. They were perfectly parallel, just the way I would have done it back in the day when I used to intentionally burn myself. The burn marks were also nestled among my old scars, like new friends joining old ones. For the next few hours, I keep looking at my left arm. I battled. I battled hard.

I slather the scars with concealer (not helpful when you’re blistering by the way) and put on a jacket. It’s 90 degrees outside. I’m her again. The girl who hides. Technically, it wasn’t even self-harm, but how easily I revert to my old habits.

But as I sweltered in my jacket, I realized that I had power. I could take the thought, crumple it up and throw it away. I didn’t have to give in to an urge. I was in charge of my feelings and, dammit, they weren’t going to have free reign in my mind. Triggers weren’t taking up residence. I could banish them. It wasn’t just an option, it was my responsibility.

Kind of like the kids. It’s my responsibility to feed them. Likewise, it was my responsibility to starve these thoughts.

You have the power of harm or healing in your hands. For you self-harmers out there, every opportunity to hurt yourself is also a chance to conquer. You can sear the iron into your arm or unplug it and put it away. You really are in control. And if I may cast a wider net, one that goes beyond physical self-harm, every opportunity to be hurt emotionally is also a chance to heal emotionally. You can be offended by your mother-in-law’s criticism of your parenting style, or you can take what wisdom you can from it and disregard the rest. You are a sentient human being. Stop giving your power to things that were never meant to command it.