I am having one of those days. Or, should I say “one of those 3 months!” You know the kind. Everything starts off well, and then one thing happens, and the next thing you know, you’re a suicide risk!

I cut myself every day. I have gashes down my arms and they are healing into scars that I will keep forever, as a painful reminder of this transitional time in my life.

Before you start freaking out and planning interventions, allow me to explain!

I keep getting cut at work. My job involves working with sharp metal and OLFA knives, and occasionally (every day, more like) I slip up, and slice myself open a bit. I am so used to it now, that I no longer feel like crying (as little as 4 months ago, a paper cut would have caused me to bawl) and I usually make a joke about “letting me play with knives,” before following the outlined safety procedure (alcohol swab – ointment  – band-aid) and jack rabbiting back to work, where I am slightly more cautious (for about two minutes, before I slip up again).

It makes for a nice story with friends, but I really am getting sick of the weird looks from the cashiers at the grocery store. It’s all I can do to keep from jumping on the nearest counter and announcing, “It’s alright! I’m not emo! I’m just a victim of work hazards and a short attention span!”