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STORYTIME: The story of Little Miss Scarface

I find that I have always grown up hating my body.

This was true for me especially after being sexually abused. I remember feeling dirty and just hating myself beyond comprehendabe words. That I wanted, more than anything, to get rid of that feeling of dirt that layed grinning, firmly attached to my skin.

So I found a way.

Something that I used to do from a very young age was scrub away at my body with a sponge.The sponge being a notted lace of mesh-like material, which was – and still is – a very popular method of cleaning the body in Africa, Ghana. This increased with a furious vengence during and after the sexual abuse. I would scrub and scrub and scrub, until the first layer of skin came off and then the second layer.

Essentially, without knowing it, I was engaging in self-harm behaviours.

It was something I did in private and my mum didn’t really know about it until I started getting acne at the age of 10. Which I was so embarassed by, so, what did I do? I scrubbed it away.

And my mum was furious. 

Absolutely furious.
She kept asking me why would I do that to myself, that people were going to see that ugly mark on my forehead and people were going to hate me.

But I didn’t really care. People already hated me, I didn’t have any friends and scubbing away my problems in the past made me feel satisfied, so why should I care? But my mum went on and on, shouting at me until I felt utterly ashamed of what I had done and felt very much that I shouldn’t have done it for everyone to see. That now that people could see it, they would definitely not be my friend.

So, I went into school the next day, with a collection of small plasters on my forehead and because they were too small, I had to place some of the sticky parts onto the open wound. I remember it hurting so much but being proud of myself because I had successfully hidden it.

A lot of people came p to me and asked me about it and I laughed it of, saying that I had skid my head on the pavement while playing outside but at least I was one step closer to being the next Harry Potter. Most people bought that and a lot more people found me interesting.

The long story short? I made friends, my self-esteem grew and without knowing it, I surrounded myself with people who somewhat cared about me.

Nakedstreetkid out x

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5 thoughts on “STORYTIME: The story of Little Miss Scarface”

    1. The friendships in general didn’t really last from primary school to secondary school (as this happened closer to the end of primary school). But it did set the foundation for me to be more confident in making friends. Beforehand, I didn’t have any friends, I was very isolated and hardly spoke at school except to say please and thank you.

      And I think a lot of people could tell I was lying but they didn’t pressure me to tell the truth.

      1. I wouldn’t recommend telling lies, but at the time I didn’t know how to express what I was doing to myself and why. White lies and jokes were very much a defence mechanism for me.

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