There is a saying now that goes, “Silence is Death.” That was not true in my early years or even in my marriages; silence was, instead, survival, life.
My early life as a woman involved settling for the first man who wanted me. After a withdrawn and isolated half dozen teenage years, never dating or doing what the ‘other’ girls did, I finally met a man who seemed to like me the way I was. As it turns out, in my opinion, he was only in it for the s*x. Since I had no connection to any part of my body below my neck, I was okay with that, and free with my sexuality. The only part of my body I liked was my left forearm, which had a connection to my use of cutting as a self-calming activity. Cutting connected me to reality. Of course, I had no self-image, thus no self-confidence or sense of sel
