i have been cutting sporadically over the last few weeks.
it hasn’t felt like a complete return to self-harm as it’s been contained.
i had expected to feel guilt
perhaps a sense of failing
but
it has been gentler than that
it feels like returning from an arduous journey & climbing into my own bed.
this past weekend has been different.
my cutting has become more insistent
i’ve begun to make demands of myself
at some point in the early hours,
the notion of being in control again took hold.
as I marvelled in the restorative wonder of hot blood
i realised i could seize back power
i could watch my haemoglobin levels plummet
all the heavy, guilt ridden blood could be let
opening garnet stripes
as I reclaim my body
these thoughts were exhilarating
and
with them came plans
schedules of pain
strict timetables to be adhered to
rules that if obeyed would bring comfort.
finally, I can breathe
i want to feel every slice of my flesh
and
monitor every drop of spilt blood
i need the hurt
my body must be a battle ground
if my mind is to stand any chance of a lasting peace.
i’m in charge again.
i can’t tell you how much I have longed to sink into this well-worn mattress.
this is me.
this works.