Cutting Ties
And Trauma’s Lies
The night my music manager called me to tell me that I had been nominated for a Juno award (against Alanis Morissette, no less), I got off the phone and cut the inside of my forearms. I didn’t bleed too heavily because, even though I’d cut properly lengthwise, I missed the main veins.
Once I saw the flesh spread wide open with fat and blue, ropey blood vessels exposed, I couldn’t bring myself to cut again. It wasn’t my first cutting incident. It was my last.
That was 31-ish years ago. So much happened during that time. A head-on car accident that ruined my spine and jaw and left me with an asymmetric face that was less marketable for my label. The Rodney King riots. My first real heartbreak. And then a Juno nomination for a record that was, essentially, a suicide note.
It’s weird to see my younger self acting like a sex kitten while singing a suicide note.
If you intentionally cut yourself in the state of California it’s an automatic 5150. That is a mandatory psychiatric hold where they ask you questions to ascertain whether you…
