I think a lot of the time the focus on self harm is about the gory stuff. About razors, about scars. And that’s how some people harm, and so it’s good that there are voices out there talking about it. But for me, mostly, these days, self harm looks like this. My nails chewed right down to the absolute limit of my quick. Sometimes I bleed, but mostly it just hurts like hell, and when it gets bad, I am physically unable to stop myself from putting my hands in my mouth. It’s not as dramatic as blood everywhere, but the cycle of shame is the same. My too short nails are just as visible a reminder as the few scars I have. I have chew necklaces, but sometimes they’re not enough. I have icypoles in the freezer, and they’re great, but I can’t eat them continuously. I have nail polish, as a visual cue, but often that’s not enough to overcome the compulsion. I have handcrafts, but sometimes my hands need a break from work. When people see my hands, they see someone with a bad habit, not a person who self harms. They see a person careless with their appearance, not someone whose anxiety has no other channel but against my own body. They see an untidiness, not a bright red scream.