Archive for control

can’t you hear me calling, i’m falling…..

Posted in mental health, self harm with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on 12/06/2011 by doyourememberthattime

the descent into self harm is frightening

you start so small


fall to depths you hadn’t imagined existed.

i began scratching my wrists.

just pulling away the skin with my fingers nails.

tiny little patches of skin.

it was enough to offer some relief

for a little while


i had to draw blood

the entire surface of my wrist became an open sore

i could never allow it to heal

never leave  it alone.

the wounds began to creep up my arm

until wrist to elbow was raw

still very superficial

just enough to bleed, to hurt.

of course the need grows

“enough” doesn’t actually exist.

the problem is

you don’t discover that until it’s too late.



i moved onto knives.

kitchen knives at first

until people started to notice they were missing

until the questions started

then i started to buy my own

cherishing a growing collection under my mattress.

the hoarding commenced

i needed to purchase any knife that appeared useful

i had to keep the blooded rags.

i procured a special wicker box to store morbid collection

by this time i was sawing at my forearm.

just over and over until the blood was sufficient


i felt calm.

still not deep

not dangerous

very soon it was not enough.

i can’t remember why the thought occurred,


i know where i was when it popped into my head

on a bus, returning from stirling.


it made my stomach fizz

part fear, part excitement.



when i stepped off that bus i headed straight to boots.

i used standard disposable ladies razors.

the type you’d shave your legs with

no one would wonder why i was buying them

or find their existence in my flat strange.

i’d stockpile.

buying packs in every shop that sold them


spend hours on the sofa pulling the razors from their plastic holders.

filling little boxes with shiny, sharp razors

making sure i always had one ready when i might need it.

razors provided a new level of control

i could be precise

they were sharper

i could cut deeper in  a single swipe

i lost a lot more blood

i felt said satisfied

i applied more and more pressure

creating deeper gashes

there was so much blood

it was a huge rush

i felt like everything was washing away in that crimson tide.

the frequency grew

the number of cuts rocketed

i began to run out of space on my arm

i moved to my right forearm,

upper arms,


i needed fresh skin

i needed an outlet

i needed more.

i cut daily during that period

it lasted a few years.

hiding it was hard

very few people knew

i was sore all the time

i’d make hundreds of cuts every night.

everything hurt

i’d wake stuck to my sheets with dried blood

bathing stung

clothes rubbed and stuck and nipped

but i couldn’t stop

and i couldn’t stand still.

the next logical step was a scalpel

they are designed to cut skin

i knew i could easily do damage with a scalpel

i found them in an art store in town

real swann & morton scalpels

i didn’t think it would be that easy

i had an amazing cover story

i’d discuss my art projects with the girls in the shop

i had become a really good liar.

i had also become pretty proficient at self harm

the scalpel both terrified & thrilled me

i did consider not using it,

but once the thought is born

there is no escaping it

it sliced through my skin like butter

i could chop myself up in minutes.

the blood was immense

hard to control some times

i had gone from bloodied rags to blood soaked towels

the more blood i lost

the more blood i needed

i had begun to crave bigger cuts

deeper cuts

wider cuts

at that time i had only hrequired stitches once or twice

times when i had lost control

usually in anger

it has scared me.

the a&e experience had been horrendous

i think, subconsciously, part of me was holding back



my cutting stayed stable for a long period

i cut most days

each cut just one strike

pushing as hard as i could

usually just flesh wounds

occasionally i’d slice through to fat.

i cut prolifically

many, many cuts in each session

i began to get ill

i was losing too much blood

i was beginning to pass out during bouts of self harm

i was sometimes sick

it didn’t bother me

i was too far in

i remember around that time filling old perfume bottles with my blood

i had dozens of them

i have no idea why i did it

i don’t know what i got from it


i kept them for a long time

until they stank

i really didn’t want to throw them away

i think about my rubbish from that time

if anyone had ever looked at it

everything was covered in blood

my flat was drenched in blood

 stains on carpets, bed clothes,furnisher

bloodied hand prints on door handles, light switches, taps

i no longer  noticed

it was a very bleak time

i was living for the blood.

i continued in that strain for years

sometimes doing a little better

feeling good

cutting less

living more,


always in fear of the storm returning

 living under a cloud



one night i cut as usual

i lived here in this flat by then

it must have been about 4yrs ago,

i was cleaning up

putting away my tools

i felt dizzy

and unsatisfied

i sat in my hall


began to think

part of me had always felt inadequate

for not going deeper

for not requiring more stitches

i felt i was weak

i couldn’t even do this properly

just like that my mind flicked a switch

i picked up my scalpel and cut into an already open wound

and i  kept cutting

for about an hour

until i was through the fat

until i could see blue veins clearly

until the blood started to spurt

until my arm was split open like soft fruit

i didn’t think i was capable of wreaking such destruction

i had believed i couldn’t & wouldn’t go that far

but i can


i do.

every cut i make is on that scale now

i can not go back

i am forever seeking more

i want each cut to “better” the last

they all need stitched

i rarely go

i keep them clean & let them heal

see a dr if they get infected.

two years ago i was admitted to hospital as they thought i was on the verge of a a heart attack

i was kept in for two days

on a heart monitor & oxygen

i was diagnosed with angina

my haemoglobin levels are so low that there is simply not enough oxygen getting to my heart.

i faint almost daily

i experience extreme chest pain

i am always out of breath

always cold

always ill.

i still cut

i still lose vast amounts of blood

i know what i doing to myself



i can not stop

self harm has a grip on me

self harm controls my life

it is who i am

what i do

how i survive.

how i wish i hadn’t;

scratched that little patch of skin.

hidden those knives

bought those razors

found that scalpel

lost control.


do you think you’re crazy ………

Posted in depression, mental health, self harm with tags , , , , , , on 02/06/2011 by doyourememberthattime

 hair needs washed.


wash it now


or wait until morning ?




bath ?

why does it matter ?

 wash damn hair


or i could just cut.


then i would feel calmer




i could make the hair decision.




no cutting.


i am not supposed to lose any blood.


i have no energy to go to a&e.


i’m already in pain


i’m exhausted


just wash my hair


legs are stubbly


shave me legs


shower, then.


then i’d have to blow dry hair before bed.


wait until morning

stop stressing


hate being in a rush in the mornings


i have a lot on tomorrow

i have time for a shower

i can handle having a fucking shower


why can’t my hair just wash itself ?




it’s been days


then i could get things done


it would take the edge off




it will take such a long time


make such a mess


i might be sick again

calm down


take a sleeping pill


go to bed


deal with the hair in the morning.


i feel grubby


don’t want to go to bed dirty


a hot bath would feel good.


cutting would feel better.


it would stop everything for a little while.


a little while would be enough


a small cut would been enough


it’s never enough.

snippets from my diary (aka i can’t get the thoughts out of my head in any coherent way)

Posted in depression, insomnia, love, miscarriage, self destruction, self harm with tags , , , , , , on 23/03/2011 by doyourememberthattime

23rd dec 2006

still here, still fucked. still hacking away at myself. still hiding in sleep. still watching sad movies & reading sad books because it’s easier to cry about someone else. still craving the blood. still loving the sensation of it trickling down my arm, dripping off my fingers. still in awe of the pool it creates on the floor. still nothing to equal the wet, slippy, warmth of it. still no release like watching the red spring from my pale skin, following it’s bright path on my flesh, tracing it’s way to my finger tips. still need that sharp heat as the scalpel slices my skin, the pain as i scrub the blood from my body. still feel the fear every time i cut a little deeper & the satisfaction that follows. i still live in a world marked with my blood. bloody puddles in the carpets, red reservoir in the sink. still blood on every door handle, every light switch. my crimson hand print still visible on the bathroom wall. still indulging in the ritual,stockpiling the blades, collecting the blood soaked rags. still searching for something sharper.pushing for something deeper. still, desperate for more blood. still here, still fucked.

26th dec 2006

i feel blue.i feel it welling up inside me. i know soon i’m going to be overflowing with emotion. the room will be flooded with bleakness & i’ll be drowned. i want to cry. i can taste the tears in the back of my heart feels bigger. like it’s swollen with sadness. i don’t know why i feel this way.i’m fairly certain  could reduce the swelling with my scalpel. just writing the words has started the buzz in my stomach. my body’s gearing up for carnage. this isn’t just in my mind. i want this from the pit of my stomach. what kind of crazy does that make me ?

19th feb 2007

cutting instead of sleeping again.been working on my arms for about an hour. i’m not sure if i can stop yet. watching the wounds fill with blood is soothing me. waiting for it to spill over & run down my arm. i used to watch raindrops on windows do the same when i was a wee girl. i liked it then too. there is something very wrong with me. earlier i looked out the window while i smoked a cigarette. i stood there trying to identify what i feel. searching for a name for this emotion. what i noticed was that all the other houses i could see were asleep. curtains closed, no lights. the street is quiet.i couldn’t help, but think of all the people in those houses and in all the houses in all the streets. they’re all sleeping peacefully. sunday night, alarm set for work in the morning. just sleeping. not staring out a window tearing through their minds. not sitting in bed tearing through their skin. why is it that they can manage it & i can’t? where did things go so wrong for me ? i read a trashy sunday paper that my brother’s friend left. britney has shaved her head. the tabloid’s view on why ? she is having a mental breakdown. she’s a fucking nutter. all she did was shave her hair off! can you imagine what headline they’d write about me ? if anyone actually cared to write about my life.i’m listening to “everybody’s gotta learn sometime” by beck. i love this song, it’s beautiful. it was in eternal sunshine of the spotless mind. it’s one of my favourite films. the premise of it is that you can have your memory wiped. so this couple end up having their memories of their relationship wiped. problem is they meet & fall in love all over again. i love that film. i love that they can’t wipe out the love. as much as i love it, it just reinforces what i know is true anyway. i can’t change what i am. even if i could do it all over again, i’d make the mistakes. i’d wind up right back here . i’d still be spilling out my thoughts on a computer screen in the middle of night. i’d still be spilling my blood. now once you know that, where do you go ? i have no idea how i fix this. i don’t even know where to start. i know i can’t stop right now. that doesn’t scare me so much as the realisation that i don’t think i want too. i try to imagine a time when i won’t need to this. all the things i’d need to stop seem impossible. i’ve lost my ability to trust that things will be ok. not everyone gets a happy ending. some of us are miserable. some of die without fulfilling our dreams. some of us sit up all night trying to bleed out their problems. some of us are fucking crazy. 
  ” & i cherish the revolting thought,

that even if i quit

there’s not a chance in hell i’d stop.. ”

13th april 2008

the more i talk to the pysch the more i’m realising i used to be a different person. i liked that person and i can’t quite believe what i’ve become. almost every topic we discuss results in me admitting i feel giulty.always guilty. guilty for letting everyone down.guilty for letting myself down. i failed at the most important task ever given to me. i’ve just kept on failing ever since. i don’t trust myself not to fail.
it’s been so long, but i am still so angry.i blame him doing this to me. i blame me more for letting him. she gasped as i recounted the whole story. how could anyone behave that way and why did i let him ? he took the most important thing in the world from me.i could never prove it was his fault, but i feel it, i know it. i can’t ever forgive him. it’s why i’m alone. i can’t risk anyone being that important again. i can’t trust anyone not to shatter me again. i can’t trust myself not fail. not to forget who i am and risk things that should be protected at all costs. i should have been stronger. i should be stronger now.
i don’t know how to stop hurting. stop missing what i never had. stop feeling guilty about all things i am not.
what i want most in the world is to fall in love and have a family. i don’t know if i can ever have the courage to really try could i trust him not to let me down and how could i trust me not to let us all down ?

big girls don’t cry…..

Posted in self harm with tags , , , , , , on 16/03/2011 by doyourememberthattime
i feel fat.

i truely hate my body.

i am disgusted with my physical appearance.

i have lost a lot of weight over the past 2 years.

i was reasonably content with how i looked for a short period.

i suppose i have become more concerned with my weight than is healthy

but i am over weight.

the weight loss has slowed to an almost halt

i am not over eating

i have cut out the all the junk food


the blubber won’t budge

the more fat & unattractive i feel

the more i want to hurt myself

i do not like myself

inside or out.

i feel like a failure

i believe i look like a failure too.

i don’t want to over think this

i do not want to develop any more of a food issue ,


i can’t seem to seize control


control is everything.

i like feeling hungry

i feel proud of myself

i know i haven’t been weak

i haven’t given in to my gluttonous desires.

if i do submit to my appetite

blood seems a reasonable recourse

it restores the balance

processing these thoughts into words has created cause for concern

blood on my hands to stay strong….

Posted in depression, family, miscarriage, pregnancy, self destruction, self harm with tags , , , , , , , , on 22/12/2010 by doyourememberthattime

My friend is 6wks pregnant.

She told me tonight.

She has been trying for a while & i am happy for her.

I’m excited.

I want that to be the full extent  of how i feel,


But it never is.


I’ve been through this quite a few times now.

And it’s always the same.

Happy for them and so very sad for me.


Everytime, i wonder, when will it be me ?

Everytime ,i hate myself for being so selfish.

Everytime, i feel this gaping hole at the centre of me


I’m losing hope that i will ever be able to fill it.


I feel an actual physical pain.

I yearn for all the memories i never got to make

All the tears and smiles i’ve missed.

My heart breaks that my boy never got the chance to call me mummy

I am terrified that no one will ever call me mummy.


I feel so incredibly lonely.

i know it’s not the answer


the only respite i know is in self destruction

i bleed to survive.

I’ll cut this sadness out.


tangled up in blue

Posted in depression with tags , , , on 23/07/2010 by doyourememberthattime

the feeling is back.

my unnamed bleak mood

it drops slowly

but i can’t halt the descent.

it’s a nagging an unease

a feeling that “something” is wrong

i search my mind

i try to be logical

but i can never locate the exact worry.

i tell myself there is nothing to be frightened of.

and, yet, i am scared,


i really need to talk to someone,

but i wouldn’t know what to say.

i really want to cry,

but i have no tears.

i had a good day

i don’t understand this plummet

i have no control.

my fever burns me deeper than you’ll ever know

Posted in depression, self destruction, self harm with tags , , , , , , , , , on 19/07/2010 by doyourememberthattime

it is ok to feel my emotions.
i’m told.
learn to deal with the feelings as they come.
they’re just feelings.
they can’t hurt me.

except, i don’t know what that means

and they do hurt me.

do normal people feel what i feel and cope ?
or do i experience something different.
it doesn’t seem possible to just sith with these emotions and still be ok.

how do i tell myself i am ok ?
i feel like i am drowning.
when the sandness is so overwhelming that my life is meaningless.
all i can see are days and weeks of sinking further under the tide.

i can stay awake all night
tortured by a sadness tthat is bigger than me


i can reach for that shiny blade
and rip it out
let my tears run red.

i want to understand these healthy coping mechanisms
but all i know is blood.