The perception of the body emerges through the distortions of reflections rising from the depths of the self. It travels a long path before reaching the surface, and as a result of this journey, the body’s internal design is formed. The designed body is no longer the same as the visible one. The degree of this difference is shaped by the structure of the self. The body, which is structured and continues to be structured—a dynamic form—takes shape at various periods.
The structure of the self and the design of the body together form the doorway to the emergence of identity. Through these transitions between body, self, and identity, an interactive and integrated structure appears. The self surrounds and contains the body. Identity, on the other hand, is an outcome. The self and the body are two elements tightly intertwined, constantly interacting with one another. A body without a self is lifeless. The interaction between body and self resembles the skin’s relationship with the body: it covers, but at the same time reveals and brings it into being. The movement between the body and the self proceeds from the inside outward; the posture and position of the body reflect the posture and position of the self. Based on this, we cannot say the body is static or passive.
The body receives and transmits messages; it conveys information from within, leads inside, and speaks on behalf of the inner world. In some individuals, the body plays an excessively active role in communicating the state and structure of the self—it becomes the spokesperson for the inner world. This is clearly seen in individuals who harm their own bodies. These people express the state of their self by using the body: they cut, burn, scratch, and alter it, communicating the inner world through physical marks. The body becomes like a daily newspaper that carries repetitive but significant headlines. Or, in individuals with chronic mental illness, the weakened, damaged self and fragile identity is strengthened by manipulating the body to resemble powerful or idealized figures—attempting to shape the body in the image of someone admired. When examining the inner world, the formation of the self, and the development of identity, looking at the individual's body often provides clues. Similarly, professionals working in the psychosomatic field use the body as an entry point into the depths of the psyche—the body’s surfaces and openings become doors descending into the inner world.
It must be noted that individuals who harm themselves often attempt to define their self, stabilize their identity, or transform it by using their bodies. A cut on the body or a wound is the projection of an inner wound; it forms the representation of that internal pain. Bodily wounds and alterations are the evidence and confirmation of internal changes and inner injuries—they are marks, traces, internal documents. The need for bodily evidence is a way of expressing oneself when verbal expression is impossible; it is primitive, archaic, but undeniably effective. It forces the other to see, affects the other, removes emotional indifference. The intention here is not to glorify self-harm, but to explain the effort these individuals make to be understood and to communicate. It is not a show, nor an exhibition. It is also fundamentally different from “body art.” Those who self-harm repeatedly insist on this distinction. These individuals, overwhelmed by the intensity of their emotions, become mute—and in response, they create a new language of signs: an abnormal sign language. For them, the body alone is insufficient as a communication tool. Because the body, damaged repeatedly—and those damages also extending into the psyche—loses the ability to communicate on its own. The body collapses; the self is wounded. The defeated body (defeated and longing to be defeated again) loses the ability to transmit the messages of the self and instead dissociates, trying to disconnect from the painful experience. Cutting and harming the body is not an attempt to die; rather, it is an attempt to reorganize the damaged self, to build a new identity—albeit through a misguided method. This method is “discovered” only after a period of turmoil, helplessness, and emotional collapse. It is the archaic form of expressing what is felt but cannot yet be articulated—almost a return to a pre-verbal, even pre-symbolic period. Not due to a lack of words, but because there is nothing other than pain to express outwardly. Like a void, like emotions without structure—free-floating, ever-present, yet undefined. To cut, burn, or mark the body is to give form to the nameless and shapeless.
Some individuals rely on the body’s memory because the body records, stores, marks, and carries traces. The body not only hurts—it “aches”; it encloses, contains, and presents pain as a concrete, visible fact. A patient who self-harmed once said about the scars on their body: “This mark belongs to that day; it tells the story of that day and keeps it alive. I did it so I would not forget and because I already know I never will.” It is a record, a message, preserving the vividness of the moment. These individuals store the anger of what they experienced within these wounds; the wounds are filled with anger, waiting to be released one day. Because the most devastating part of early childhood trauma is the helplessness—the inability to act against what one is subjected to. It is the rage of being physically and emotionally overpowered. Of course, anger is not the only emotion present; anger is simply the result.
Through these scars and wounds, individuals repeatedly open a door inward—to the self, to the psyche, or to the trapped self and the damaged identity. These openings become windows through which the self tries to breathe.
The reason why cutting, burning, or other forms of self-harm are most often carried out on the forearm is the accessibility of the area. When these behaviors occur on the face, it is because the face is the visible expression of identity—the face is the face of identity. Therefore, cutting the face means marking or damaging the identity itself. This is why self-harm is closely linked to identity. It reflects an attempt to alter the identity or to repair it. Not surprisingly, many adolescents who self-harm describe feeling “complete” after getting piercings, tattoos, or branding. But this feeling of completion is temporary. Tattoos and piercings must be repeated because body modifications give the illusion of repairing or completing the identity. The body is the raw material of identity. The body is memory. The skin envelops the body; the body envelops identity. An attack on the body is an attack on the self. This attack is directed toward what is damaged, weakened, unformed—or stuck. Its purpose is to activate what has stagnated, to initiate movement, and through that movement regain momentum toward development and integration. But unfortunately, this is only imagined by the individual; these interventions merely soothe the pain temporarily. They are distorted, primitive methods of intervention that momentarily relieve suffering. These behaviors protect the individual from the feeling of disappearing or annihilating themselves. In this sense, they have a protective function. But unless the individual understands why these feelings arise and how these behaviors connect to unbearable internal experiences, the behaviors vanish only to be replaced by other primitive defenses. Superficial explanations merely produce symptom substitution.
