Coping the wrong way

I can't believe I did this again. I haven't cut for so very long and here I went and did it again. I know it's a bad coping skill, so why did I do it? The only thing I can think of is I'm working through something very traumatic.

In 1997 I was sexually assaulted by a stranger at knife point. I never talked about it. Never dealt with it in therapy. Never even brought it up. It was barely even a footnote in my history. My therapist and abuse survivors group at the time never talked about it. They never asked how I was. Never once. I took that to mean that it must not be important. That it was no big deal. That I wasn't worth worrying about. Not important enough.

Back then, I cut a lot. I was working through childhood sexual abuse issues. In the years since then I've learned much better coping skills than cutting on myself.

I'm really not looking forward to facing my therapist and psychiatrist with my arm like this. And I'm really really hoping that I can keep it concealed from my husband until it's all healed and he'll never have to know about it. I know he'd be very upset with me if he found out.

Geez, it's 2:30 am. I need to go to bed and try to get some sleep.