I stubbed my toe and now I can’t stop thinking (18.03.19)

Shit I say as I spot a trail of blood leading from my dresser to my bed I know find myself lying on in a painful rage. I look down at my feet and find my left foot covered in sticky, red blood. If there is one thing I hate more than bananas (yes I mean this in all seriousness), it is blood.

When I was around four years old, I ripped my left shoulder open in an accident. It sounds and, at the time, looked more gruesome than it truly was. I was on the swings in our garden, when all of a sudden I got the brilliant idea to jump off the moving swing at its highest point – launching my small body sideways against the nearby fence. The fence, as old as it was, was home to a rather large and pointy nail, which grazed the skin around my shoulder open, leaving blood to gush out of the wound.

Like so many children, I was unfazed by my accident and got my ass up from the ground and went inside to find my mum. It was only when I saw the pure look of horror on her face when I trodded into the kitchen, that I knew something had gone wrong. Following her shocked gaze – eyes wide, her mouth slightly open and a faint “oh no” escaping her lips – I found myself staring at my white tshirt. Only it wasn’t white anymore. It was soaked in crimson.

It was in that exact moment that I started to feel a pounding in my shoulder, a kind of pain I had never experienced before. Over time, the large gash on my shoulder healed, merely leaving behind a scar which is visible to this day. But it wasn’t the pain that kept me up at night; it was the horrendous sight of my vibrant blood, an image that has burned itself into my mind forever.

I wonder if this experience is the source of my squeamishness nowadays. One of the most horrid situations I have been in involves me cutting my finger open on a shampoo bottle in the shower. I was standing in the shower, looking at the drop of blood trickeling down my hand, when all of a sudden I was not. Confused, I woke up on the shower floor, water violently splashing onto my face. I had fainted. One drop of my own blood and I was on the floor. Similar experiences have occured since.

What causes an occurance to have a lasting effect on a human? Is there a level of trauma involved in this process? Or is it down to us, to over-exaggerate and prioritise certain experiences over others?

The bleeding of my toe has calmed. I fetch a bandaid and walk over to the mirror over my dresser. I lift my shirt and stare into the mirror, at the scar visible on my left shoulder. I stare and stare, until the scar finally fades away…. wait….NO. I blick furiously at my shoulder, willing the small mark to reappear. It obliges and I find myself in a state of relief. For my scar is more than a reminder of my fear of blood; in an odd way, it is a symbol of my childhood. It is a mark that defines me to this day. And for that, I cannot fault it.


Image provided by thi.dee.

18 thoughts on “I stubbed my toe and now I can’t stop thinking (18.03.19)

  1. Such an interesting post! Completely random – but that’s a good thing, generic posts get so boring after a while, and this post really stood out on my feed, loved it! Hope your toe’s okay though haha x

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I think seeing blood triggers this automatic stress response in our body and our minds run wild. I hate the sight of my own blood when if I’m getting blood taken but fine if I scrape my knee. Minds are strange

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Ooohhhh don’t even get me started on getting your blood taken I am such a wimp when it comes to that. Like, I legit can’t handle it (and am probably such a pain in the ass for doctors and nurses) and have fainted because of it before ๐Ÿ˜‚ And oh yes, minds are indeed peculiar things.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. I love how you told this story. A similar thing happened to me when I broke my arm as an 8-year-old (ended up having to have the doctor rebreak it to make sure it healed okay, but that’s a long and painful story haha). I only noticed I wasn’t really okay when my brother told me to go and get mum, and he was tough so I knew it was bad.
    I also have a stubbed toe story… We had to take dance lessons as a grade for my year 12 formal. During one of the lessons my dance partner scraped the bottom of his shoe along my toenail, he ended up almost splitting it down the middle. And again, I didn’t notice until the teacher told me my foot was covered in blood. Oops.
    I hope your toe feels better soon.
    Laura, xoxo

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you! Oh my god, that experience with your arm sounds horribly painful. And aaahhhhhhh that stubbed toe story of yours had me cringing! I have always found it weird that pain is so psychologically dependent – sometimes we don’t perceive it unless we are made aware it’s there. Thanks for sharing, Laura! xx

      Liked by 1 person

  4. I love your writing style! After seeing this I had a read of a few of your other posts and your blog is great! x (I hope your toe is okay aha)

    Liked by 1 person

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