I’m rather late to hop on the Word of the Week bandwagon, and it’s my first time pariticipating. Oops. I have been wanting to participate for a while, but never got down to thinking of my word for the week. Summing up a week in a single word is such a tough one. This week at least was a mixed bag. I am choosing a symbol for one of the sadder events of this week as my word: sleeves.
I had to wear long sleeves all week because I self-harmed on Tuesday. Normally, I don’t care whether peopel see my scars or even relatively fresh wounds. I used to make up the worst excuses to my parents. Not that I think they believed me, but well.
Yesterday, however, my sister came for an early birthday visit. I didn’t want to turn the conversation to self-harm so I wore long sleeves despite it being pretty warm. It’s not like my sister doesn’t know I self-injure, but it is not a birthday visit topic I suppose. When my sister asked about my sleeves, I just said I liked them long and changed the subject. We had a pretty fun day, my sister, my husband and I.
Today, the weather was even warmer and long sleeves truly weren’t comfortable. When I sat in the garden, long-sleeved and all, a nurse asked why I wouldn’t just wear a T-shirt. I muttered “Cuts”. To my surprise, she suggested I just not care. The thing is, I’d assumed the nurses would take offense at my “attention-seeking” if I wore short sleeves. Apparently not. So today I’m wearing a T-shirt again. It feels good.