a2z: Lacerations

April 2015’s Blogging A to Z:


Brian might have a job in Minnesota soon.  (oh shit.  yeah, I need to update y’all about that.  my bad.)  so I was thinking about the different job opportunities I could seek out up there.  I’ve a diverse career and volunteer history (in no particular order): photographer, office assistant manager, comic artist, product suppliers manager for a expos, book seller, photographer, interviewer, customer service manager, security guard, general retail/sales, photography studio manager, heliport assistant manager, volunteer coordinator for expos, canoe instructor, writer, equipment specialist and manager, librarian, etc.  some of these were concurrent, some were not.  some were for a summer, some many years.  but I have enough experience in each of them to get another job in the same position or at least similar field.

so then I was thinking about things I couldn’t do.  immediately I went to anything involving balance or memory, and food is also a no-go.  so of course, that meant “no way” for the restaurant industry.  in fact, I really couldn’t make it there.  either A] I couldn’t dress the part to work in a nicer restaurant; or B] I couldn’t dress the part to work in a lower-class burger joint (think Twin Peaks or Hooters or something).  why not the latter?  because of my scars.

I’ve written a lot in my LiveJournal/DreamWidth about my self-injury — cutting, hair-pulling, burning, scratching, biting, bruising, head bashing, starving, over-dosing, etc.  I try not to go into it too much here, as my being too open about my cutting is what ended up in an unnecessary hospital trip that cost me over $4000 of non-insured expenses (which I actually finally just paid all of off in 2014!).

but as they are a part of who I am, both past and present — and honestly, probably still in the future –, I can’t just ignore it all.

I’m a cutter.  I’m a self-harmer.  not was; am.  the scars haven’t stopped.  they continue.

they’ve diminished in quantity and frequency; but they make up for it in quality and frightfulness.

I started wearing what I call my “scar tape” again.  there’s a ton of gels and tapes and screams that help.  but I have my favourite.  though now it’s old and hard to find, and my not even be effective anymore.  but I’m wearing that again.

but because of these damn things, I can’t even get a job as a waitress.  in the past, I hid my cutting.  only inner thighs and breasts.  but these days, I don’t think I even care anymore.  since November, new ones have been added.  and they’re on stomach.  right across it.  so the Twin Peaks belly-revealing uniforms are out.  and the Hooters short skirts?  they’d definitely show off too many.

it’s funny how my drinking limits my mobility for a job, my anxiety limits my socialness, my self-injury limits my outfits, and my nerves limits my dexterity.

I need a job where I don’t have to have any certain appearance, am not expected to go anywhere to distant, and don’t have to have patience or proper mobility.

can I, like, apply to be a log or something?




One thought on “a2z: Lacerations

leave your two cents. or three, because I'm poor.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s