The Butterfly Project.

Usually projects where you draw something on your skin to represent your past really bothers me. There have been projects that circulate around Facebook encouraging drawing semicolons, hearts, names, to create a "support group" for people who are depressed, self injure, or otherwise despise themselves.

However, I fell across a project that I feel I personally could support, and ultimately benefit from. It's a project that promotes self love, and self healing. Not the power in numbers shit that I can't stand.

The Butterfly Project:

The butterfly project exists so that we may all learn to love our skin, our bodies, and slowly pull ourselves away from self harm, and self injury. There are rules, of course. Rules that if followed, help promote the deepest and most satisfying healing anyone could ask for.

1. When you feel like you want to self injure, draw a butterfly on the place you intend to harm yourself. Draw it with a marker, pen, or Sharpie.

2. Name the butterfly after a loved one, someone that loves you, a pet, a teacher, or someone you know wants to get better.

3. Let the butterfly fade naturally. No scrubbing it off.

4. If you self injure before the butterfly is gone, the butterfly dies.

5. If you have more than one butterfly, that's okay. That's beautiful. But if you self injure, all the butterflies die.

6. You may ask another person to draw a butterfly on your skin. These butterflies are extra special. Take good care of these special butterflies.

7. Even if you don't self injure, feel free to draw a butterfly anyway. Draw a butterfly as a small symbol to someone you love that you care. Or draw a butterfly to get your mind off of something that is troubling you.






I used to self harm. It was a big problem for a long time. There's a lot more that goes into self harm and self injury that what meets the eye. I used cut when I was sad, angry, empty, stressed, or facing any negative emotion. It was my way out of the emotional pain I was dealing with. My problem? It became addictive. And fast. It was my drug when I was feeling worthless. But then it created a larger void in my life, when I was constantly hiding my body, and ashamed of the hideous scars it left.

I still have scars. Truthfully there are scars that I don't think will ever go away completely. But scars fade. And that's what's healing.

It's healing to know that like pain, scars fade. There is always a memory, and an old struggle, but it's faded.