“They were upset.”
I don’t remember upsetting anyone. I would have noticed, you see, because that’s my fear. When you have a beautiful scarred body and you know why you cut yourself; the thought that others may follow the same path is abhorrent.
A long time ago I decided the best way to protect other people would be to acknowledge my scars. It’s not like they’re fresh wounds: they’re scars. And they tell a story which does me proud.
Bright sunlight casts strong shadows.
I don’t think they were hurt by what I’ve done.
I don’t think you can protect people by hiding the truth from them. I think you protect people by telling the truth: switching on the light. They can see for themselves there is nothing to fear.
I’m not afraid of the dark.
When you’re a battler
You often have battles to fight.
More battles than are your want
But you meet them.
You have to.
And you often wonder why
If you chose to lay down and die
Would it not be easier?….
– from The Battler, Libby Hyett 2014
A long time ago I got a job mowing lawns.
It wasn’t my first ever job. It was my first job since my breakdown three years ago.
I had been living with my parents for a few months, when I had been at my worst, then I found a place and was paying my way and driving and determined to find work locally.
I likened recovery with choosing to push a heavy boulder up a hill. I had accepted the challenge and knew I mustn’t let the boulder go, not for anything, lest it roll all the way back to the bottom.
My task is to reach the top of the mountain and to push the boulder over the other side – so it can roll to where it will.
I couldn’t afford to replace my car after it broke down, and lost my job.
I moved residence to my next job where I worked as a stablehand at a boutique horse stud and lived in a room with no furniture.
The isolation made me wilder.