Archive for cutting

Handle me with care….

Posted in depression, insomnia, mental health, mental illness, self destruction, self harm with tags , , , , , , , , , , on 19/11/2015 by doyourememberthattime

I saw one of those annoying self care lists earlier. 

They irritate me because it’s beyond my comprehension that anyone believes a hot bath & some candles will stop the war in my head.

As I scrolled through the ridiculously naive advice, I realised I had my own version of self care. 

I was in fact, in the midst of a session. 

Self harm is my self care. 

It ticks all the boxes. 

It helps me feel calm 

in control

quiets my mind.
The ritual of setting up keeps me busy

Peeling back the foil to reveal a pristine blade

Arranging my towels 

Carefully selecting where I will begin

All of things offer distraction from my despair

panic 

loathing.

They provide comfort 

&

root my in the present moment. 
The bloods feels good; hot & slippery on my skin

The release gained from it flowing out it a weight lifted.

It’s so much better than crying.

That first strike that slides right into my flesh,

When I’m through the skin & my fat offers no restistance.

That wipes my thoughts clean 

It’s just me, 

my scalpel 

&

my blood. 
That’s what compassion is to me. 

It’s stainless steel disappearing into an open wound,

the instant when my cut starts to frighten me

But

I just keep going. 

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guess what? I’m not a robot…

Posted in depression, mental health, mental illness, self harm with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on 01/06/2015 by doyourememberthattime

it has been a bleak weekend

there are reasons

and

no reasons.

 

predictably, when I couldn’t decipher my mind

I turned to my scalpel for answers

you know the rest.

 

perhaps the break made me clumsy

or

thirsty

in any case I made a tad too much mess.

 

with no option, but A&E to stem the blood flow

i wrapped my arm in a towel

and

mustered as much calm sanity as I could 

 

my local hospital has undergone quite the transformation

a swanky new uber hospital has sprung up in place of its crumbling victorian predecessor

within its walls the attitudes were more in tune with its origins.

 

The dr I saw was pleasant, he didn’t say much, but everything he was accompanied by a smile

this disarmed me a little

i wasn’t prepared for him to be a dick

he worked at speed that belied any concern for me

his method could only be described as slap dash

he did administer local anaesthetic

just not enough to actually prevent pain

a small part in the centre of each cut was numbed

the rest, I felt.

 

he closed the largest (10cm) gash with four stitches

I had cut clear through the fatty tissues

causing the resulting wound to gape alarmingly

obviously, I am not a professional

but

i have had less serious injuries closed with both internal & external sutures.

this time the dr just yanked together the edges (with some difficulty)

unsurprisingly the stitches had burst 10hrs later.

 

i didn’t challenge him

i just sat there

apart from wincing when the initial stitch went in

i didn’t say anything at all

 

i sat there and let him stitch two deep cuts without proper anaesthetic or care.

 

at the time i just wanted to get home.

later it occurred to me that the way I was treated probably wasn’t ok

i wondered why I didn’t request more local

or 

enquire about his technique.

the only answer I could summon was that I didn’t think I had the right to ask for better

for all my campaigning, 

in that moment my usually vocal defence of my rights was silenced.

it felt that pain relief for me, was a luxury rather than a necessity

the shame is so ingrained.

 

the voice in my head that tells me I deserve the pain is strong

the part of me that shrieks that I’m worthless

 renders me compliant

content to take whatever semblance of treatment is given.

 

afterwards, when these thoughts started to emerge

i even questioned my right to question

 

every day, i fight the thought that I’m nothing

i battle to recreate a life

i push myself to do terrifying things

partly to make me feel like a person who is capable of succeeding

and

partly to stop this shit happening to other people.

but

the truth is

no matter how many people I present to

or

how much they pay me

 

regardless of how better everyone thinks i am

or 

how many days pass without cutting

it still only takes one bad day

and

one cruel person

for it all to come crumbling down.

i’ve tried everything….

Posted in depression, mental health, mental illness, self harm with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on 04/07/2014 by doyourememberthattime

i have fallen into another slump.
i rarely know why this happens.
occasionally there are clear reasons for my depression worsening.
but, not this time.

life is struggle at moment
the urge to harm myself is overpowering
i am told the desire will leave me
i continue to wait for that peace.

in the mean time I try to live
i feel as though there is something inside me trying to break out
i can’t relax
it is impossible to just be.

i have resorted to doing, doing, doing
i do housework every morning.
i’ve cleaned out drawers & cupboards
organised my wardrobe
i’ve scrubbed every surface in the house
everything I eat is cooked from scratch
i bake
the next three months have been budgeted
i am keeping a detailed food diary
my life has never been so regimented.

i force myself to socialise
close friends are invited for dinner
i see films with my sister
plans are made with friends in other cities
i volunteer
i’m reading voraciously
my writing output has gathered pace
self-manicures have become works of art
my hair is styled, my legs are smooth.

from the outside i seem to be doing great.
my productivity has soared.
i appear to be creating order.

the truth is my drive is desperation.
a constant need to escape an unbearable internal chasm
if I don’t keep moving
i will butcher myself.
my increasingly despairing attempts to grasp control are failing.
i am left sore
&
sad
&
exhausted.

i long to curl up in my bed and hide
but
my spiteful inner voice will not allow it
there is a constant coaxing to shed my blood,
a continuous stream of gory images.
all accompanied by heavy hopelessness
&
the suffocating knowledge that it will return.
no matter how much progress I make
or
what heights of contentment I reach
i will feel this way again.

it’s got to be worth it….

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on 22/09/2013 by doyourememberthattime

I have had a couple of emails & lots of search terms on the topic of self-harm & dating. I can’t claim to be an expert, but I do date & I’m happy to share my tips.
I’d like to start by saying no one has ever flat out rejected me solely on account of my scars or my cutting. That is not to say that self-harm has never caused a problem in relationships, but no one has run away screaming.
I find that being upfront and forthright has worked best for me. On a first date with someone new I will wear something that allows a little bit of scarring to be seen. This is scary, but less scary than getting to know & like someone all the while worrying about how and when to tell them your secret. It also gives anyone who can’t handle scars or their implications a chance to bail before anyone gets attached. Be prepared for some lingering glances when they think you aren’t looking. It’s also possible that they may ask questions right away, whenever they do ask, I always answer briefly, but honestly. If you develop a relationship with this person any lies you tell will be uncovered. Again it allows either party to walk away if they aren’t comfortable with the route the conversation takes.
I have been internet dating & I deliberately uploaded one picture that shows some scars. I think this is a good idea as wards off anyone who has a real issue with self-harm or scars. As we all know, people can be crueller online than they would be in person, so weeding out the bastards early can only be a plus.
I think once the relationship progresses & people start to care about each, the scars are less of a problem than they actual self-harming behaviour. I’ve had men admit that my scars disturb them a little, make them feel sad or protective, but never enough to stop them wanting to have a relationship with me. I know a lot of people worry that their scars make them unattractive; I use to be scared that mine robbed me of any desirability. I have been reassured by men that I’ve dated that after the initial shock; they mostly cease to really notice them. Certainly no one has ever found them so distasteful as to be turned off.
If you are still actively self-harming relationships can be difficult. Obviously it’s distressing to know that someone you care about is in so much pain. There is no easy way around that. I’m not relationship expert or counsellor, but what I can tell you is be truthful with your partner. Open up, let them support you if they able. Love & self-harm (or any mental illness) are not mutually exclusive. When you meet the right person, it can work.
Having said that, there are pitfalls. Don’t be afraid to walk away, if the other party is detrimental to your mental health. Please don’t feel that you have to change or ‘get better’ for someone. Recovery is a personal journey. It will only work if you’re doing it for yourself. You don’t need anyone in your life that makes you feel guilty. Nor do you want someone who is ashamed or embarrassed of your problems. Remember you are worth just as much as everyone else. Be brave and stand up for yourself if needs be.

In conclusion I would say, go for it. There are kind, decent people out there who will see the whole you. The right person will try to understand. There are lots of wonderful men & women just waiting to meet you. You can have lots of fun trying new people on & seeing who fits best. You’re good enough as you are. Keep telling yourself that until you start to believe it.

i keep bleeding….

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on 11/06/2013 by doyourememberthattime

one more cut
i need it

i’m drowning.
in desire
i feel it fizzing in my stomach
i am overwhelmed by the complusion to bleed
to drift away on that peaceful tide.

i long to tear myself apart
savage
searing
carnage

i have an obligation
to administer the punishment i deserve
i must bleed

blood on the rise, it’s following me….

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on 10/06/2013 by doyourememberthattime

i cut.
265 days. Void.

in the end there wasn’t any particular trigger
i had bad day
no worse than the few that went before it
a flip just switched
i started to feel like I could
like I should
and
that was that

i had been so scared of forgetting how
i thought I might get rusty without the continuous practise
i needn’t have worried
it had never been easier.

I intended to take my time,
make a small cut
dip my blade in
but
the blood flooded my senses
i was in deep before I was even properly aware of it

it felt good.

the blood under my fingernails
the little globs of yellow fat on my hands
the pulsing blue network
the pain
the calm

i expected to feel worse
i’m a little ashamed
i don’t want people to know
but
if this could be my secret
i’d happily dive back into the self-destructive depths.

i hurt myself today…

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on 14/03/2013 by doyourememberthattime

i haven’t cut in 175 days.
i couldn’t say with complete confidence that it’s a good thing.
the last few weeks have been bad.
i feel as though i’ve taken a thousand steps back.
i am so lost
and
scared
and
desperate to hurt myself.

the self imposed ban on cutting was supposed to improve my life
i was told i’d despise myself less
i would discover i had some worth
the need to destroy myself would disapate.

bullshit

last night i beat my hand with a marble pestle
i’m fairly certain i’ve broken some bones
but
i can’t stop
i watch it puff
&
swell
&
bruise

i finally win a little peace

i can escape from the fear
there has been so much fear.

someone knocks my door
& i find myself hiding in the office
heart racing
hands sweating
terrified

of what, i have no idea.

the fear doesn’t actually need a trigger.
i wake up afraid
scared of having to get through another day

there are so many days
most with no purpose
no joy
no meaning

pain has meaning
inflicting pain upon myself is natural
it’s right

so, i haven’t cut in 175 days
but
i’ve hit myself with a hammer
torn off toenails
pierced my flesh with needles
pressed salt & ice in my skin until it blisters
broken finger bones….
the list will go on
i will always find new ways

” i cherish the revolting thought,
that even i quit,
there’s not a chance in hell i’d stop “