"I've been cutting myself and if anyone found out, they'd think I'm crazy and lock me away."
How it sounds in your head: The physical pain is the only thing that makes the emotional pain stop, even for just a few minutes. You wear long sleeves even in summer and panic when someone reaches for your wrist. You're terrified of being sent away to some facility, of losing control, of being labeled 'the crazy girl' forever.
"The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit."
-- Psalm 34:18Enemy convincing you that coping mechanism is identity, and that needing help means losing freedom rather than gaining support.
You've heard stories of people being hospitalized or medicated, and you've seen how people treat mental health issues with fear. The scars on your body are physical evidence that something is 'wrong' with you.
He cut himself with stones, lived naked among tombs, was so violent they couldn't chain him, and everyone feared him as dangerously insane. Jesus didn't slowly rehabilitate him through a process—one encounter and he was IMMEDIATELY clothed, in his right mind, and sent as a missionary to ten cities.
I REFUSE the lie that my coping mechanism defines me as crazy or unredeemable. IT IS WRITTEN that the Lord is NEAR to the broken-hearted—my pain doesn't push Him away; it draws Him closer. I am not 'the crazy girl'—I am a daughter whose emotions are so big they need a bigger solution than I've found, and my Father is running toward me with healing, not a straitjacket. IT IS WRITTEN there is NO condemnation in Christ, which means this struggle doesn't disqualify me from love, acceptance, or freedom. The demoniac went from cutting himself with stones to clothed and in his right mind in ONE encounter with Jesus. I receive that same instant transformation available to me RIGHT NOW.
Your Father sees every cut, every scar, every moment of pain that felt too big to hold, and He's not disgusted—He's heartbroken that you thought you had to bleed to feel. While you're hiding your wrists in shame, He's already rolling up His sleeves to show you the scars He took so you wouldn't have to keep making your own.