And the walls kept tumbling down….

yesterday i had to ask my best friend to walk me to the chemist.                            

it’s two streets away, but i just couldn’t do it on my own.

my friend is wonderful, but i still felt pathetic. 
today i had to get some blood tests. just routine tests that i have done regularly. 

but, it felt like an impossible feat.

i took a double dose of diazepam & was still overwhelmed.

i began to cry when the nurse was taking blood 

i found i could not stop 

and, so spent a humiliating half hour trapped in waiting room toilet,

desperate not to share my fragile state with strangers. 

now, i am home. Hating myself for all the things that i haven’t done. 

from housework to commissions. 

i don’t want to be back here,

frozen in panic

gobbling pills to survive another day.

i thought I was closing the book on blood

&

stitches

&

shame. 

not so. 

here i am once again mired in it.

even more frightening this time as i have more to lose.

and

because it’s a brutal reminder that there is no cure

this illness can crush me at anytime 

control is an illusion. 

you win again…

I had yet another hospital appointment.
this time with an orthopaedic surgeon.
for the last year or so i have been having difficulties with my left hand & arm.
my gp thought it might be related to my b12 defiecency as i also lose feeling in my toes.
apparently that is a completely separate issue.
my problem is in fact, nerve damage.
damage caused by me.

i have a splint to wear and have injections for the next three months.
the consultant will then decide how to proceed surgically.
i’m not thrilled about having another procedure
but
there is so much more to it.

i feel so very guilty.
i am entirely responsible for this.
most of me feels i don’t deserve to have this impairment corrected.
i feel unworthy
i unnecessarily deplete resources.

worse than that,
i feel that this will never be over.
self-harm will always be with me.
whether it’s the constant desire to hurt myself
or
the ongoing consequences of what i’ve done to my body.

all those years of people telling me how dangerous my cutting was
it never felt real to me.
it’s real now.

i’m living with the damage i didn’t believe i could do
my heart
my hand
perhaps this is my punishment

i should be happy
i always wanted to castigate myself
i’ve succeeded

all i have achieved is becoming even more of a burden
now people i love have another reason to worry about me
i require further medical intervention
i am a drain.

even now, I’m whining.
i’ve done it
i need to live with it.
i could
if other people didn’t have to be involved.

i’m comfortable with pain
i still seek it out.
i am beginning to wonder why i keep fighting the urge
if the shadow of self-harm is going to hang over me forever
why not just give in to it?

the shame
and
the guilt
and
fear
are constant companions

so, maybe i let it win.
isn’t it winning anyway?

what the hell am i doing here ?…..

therapy was another cry fest.
i have been struggling recently
and
as soon as I sat down in that room, it all came tumbling out

i am so frustrated with my current situation
my slide back into deep depression is soul destroying
and
incomprehensible.
why am I back here when I was making such progress?

nothing has changed.
all the recovery boxes were getting ticked
until it all started to fall apart again.

it’s such a cruel illness
there is no explanation for the sudden blackness crowding my head
i am trying so hard to fight it
but
every tiny little step is exhaustingly hard
it’s so difficult to believe I will ever emerge from the darkness

my psychologist believes that part of my problem is my inability to give myself credit
i do not feel that I should be congratulated for washing & dressing
having tea with a friend does not strike me as deserving of applause.
i struggle to connect with my compassionate mind.

i am critical
i consider myself pathetic for all the things I cannot do

guilt is another struggle
i don’t believe that I am allowed to have happy moments
it seems to me that if I can feel good for a short period of time,
i should be able to make myself ok
all of the time.

the only thing I see worth in
is my voluntary work
i have been donating some time to a children’s & youth initiative
engaging in an activity that is not about me feels good
however, my decline has interfered with this
overcoming me fear & anxiety to even manage the journey has become increasingly difficult
the pressure of Interacting with the other group leaders crushes me
hence, I am able to attend less
and
i am robbed of the one thing that allows me to consider myself a worthwhile member of society.

the battle goes on
i am cutting, but much less frequently
i feel i still have a modicum of control.
forcing myself to see friends & family continues to be a focus,
engaging in voluntary work has become a priority,
i have also begun a new anxiety med until I can see my psychiatrist.

i refuse to give in
with increasing frequency,
i want to.

everybody’s free to feel good…

we’re having a little bit of a heat wave.
it’s nice to have a burst of sunshine
but
as every self-harmer knows
warm weather is not our friend

so, I’ve been dealing with the tired dilemma
hide & boil
or
uncover & face the inevitable judgement

i don’t always cover all my scars.
i began to dress more freely a few years ago
and
for the most part I am very pleased with that decision
sure, there are times when I take fright & reach for that cardigan
there are also people I don’t feel comfortable around with visible scars.
it’s a mixed bag.

anyway, with temperatures soaring
my usual semi cover ups began to feel oppressive
the thought of going out bare armed & bare legged hovered
but
scared me

finally the heat
and the constant enquiries with regards to my wardrobe won me over
i would be brave
i could do this

last Saturday I went out wearing a maxi skirt with a split & a vest
i spent a lot of time looking in the mirror before I left the house
i wanted to really see me
i am so used to my scars that I often don’t really acknowledge them
i needed to know exactly what others would be looking at.
after much procrastination & with large sunglasses for protection,
stepped outside.

i was prepared for stares
and they came
every second person I passed,
did a double take
i felt exposed
and
free

I
i didn’t stay out long
it was difficult
it was worth it to be out in the world as me
no lies
no shame
just me.

everybody’s talking at me…..

this morning i got on a bus.
i paid my fare
smiled politely at the other passengers
sat down quietly.

i wasn’t in anyone’s way
i wasn’t rude
or
loud
i was just minding my own business, getting to where i needed to be.

apparantly,
my mere person was offensive.
my exposed arms
somehow enough to warrant censure.

a complete stranger took issue with my scars.

i was aware of her noticing & staring at my arms,
i’ve grown used to this sort of behaviour
& tried to dismiss her rudeness.
but
the stares became glares
and
she was visibly annoyed.
i felt uncomfortable, but was able to zone her out.

alas, she felt compelled to express her judgement
as i walked past her to leave the bus,
she hissed that i should be ashamed of myself.

i reacted by asking her if she was ashamed of being a cunt.

this is how i usually respond to such comments.
i make an angry, sometimes comic retort
&
quickly get on my way

i don’t want these people to know how much they hurt me
or
how the shake my confidence.

most of all,
i never want them to be aware
of just how ashamed i am

i’ll never know why my personal struggle anger others
or
why strangers believe that my body is their business.
i do know that shame is a common theme. they want me to cowed
&
hiding
&
sorry.

i hope one day i will be unconcerned by these encounters
today is not that day
i came home & stayed home.
i doubt i’ll go out tomorrow either.

because shame & guilt are what make my world go around.
i don’t need the negative reinforcement.

here comes the fear again….

143 days.
i know i should be proud
maybe a tiny little part of me is
i can recognise that this is a huge achievment for me
unfortunately
the bigger part of me feels guilty
and
ashamed.

i’m a fraud
i still think about it everyday
my mind conjures up the most horrific images.
i deserve it.
i should be atoning for my mistakes.
i should be tearing my body apart
the guilt of not hurting myself,
of deceiving those i care about most
is killing me.

i do not feel better
i miss the blood
i crave the blood
i imagine it flowing inside me
i’m scared there is too much
i feel unnatural.

i don’t know who i am
without
blood
and
pain
and
chaos.

i’m so much lower without the release
i have no escape from these intolerable emotions
the fear is overwhelming
i’m scared this is never going to change

i am always going to want it
i will forever be ruled by insane desires
uncontrollable lows
and
i’m too ashamed to admit it.

what’s your number ?

another thought provoking therapy session.
I did the voicing thoughts
I am ashamed of thing.
again

whilst telling psychologist about
my last misadventure into self harm
he flinched.

he said the idea of blood spraying on my face was like a scene from a
horror
film

this struck me as over dramatic
&
i said so.

he ventured that if he did a straw poll of the building
most people would be pretty horrified
and
very concerned.

which led to a discussion about my
perception of my self harm

this is often a problem.
i do not think my cutting is
anywhere
near
as bad as others portray it to be

i have seen more severe self injury
much, much
worse.
i know that my own attempts at self destruction
are by no means
extreme

other people’s perception
frustrate me
i feel I am getting credit I do not deserve
(i know there is no merit in self harm, but my mind does not)
it pushes me to go further
and
it feels disrespectful to those who subject themselves to more serious abuse.

my idea of normal is corrupted
i know that
but
i cannot accept that my cutting warrants the concern it garners

my therapist & I talked about how I rated what I do to myself
he suggested we consider it on a scale of 1-100
i put myself around 30.
he did not agree with my assessment

his number uncovered a somewhat bizarre reaction
i was mostly embarrassed.
i have felt this way before
but
never verbalised it

now,
I am left wondering why I feel this way
&
whether or not I can trust his opinion.

say what you mean to say….

i had to have another transfusion.
and
it made me think about my strategies for coping
with
other’s view of me

i try to hide my shame
if people knew
just how revolting i feel about
neeeding
&
using
that generously donated blood
i would become an easy target.

they wouldn’t hide their revulsion
as i would have given them a signal
that
they
were
right

a huge part of me believes that are correct
i didn’t deserve it
i am selfish

that doesn’t mean i am brave enough to face their judgement
head
on
self preservation kicks in
i don’t want to be publicly censured

even though
i
know
i am not worth the comapssion of others.

i try to get in there first
i will insult myself
say what i am sure they must be thinking

or i’ll blazen it out
if i act in control
people are more likely to treat me
less
like
a
nutter

there is a little voice
that
screams
you are ill
you don’t want this
but
i don’t hear her

i don’t want to feel constantly
guilty
& ashamred

but my attempts not to
backfire

i try not to be ashamed of my scars
i don’t always hide them
i’ve even used pictures to illustrate this blog

i am critised for it
it’s showboating
attention seeking

if i talk honestly
and
show you what my life
and
body
are truely like
you reject me

my defense
garners more scorn

if i let my weakness show
i am ripe for attack

i don’t know how to protect myself

i don’t want to be ashamed
but
every single outside opinion
tells me i should be

my vicious circle continues
i feel
battered
by my own “community”
yet
i suspect admitting this
will be frowned upon.

as pathetic as it sounds
i think i just need a little validation
none is forthcoming.

memories seep from my veins….

 

when i think about slicing into an arlready open wound,

i feel slighty sick.

my stomach  flutters horribly.

and yet,

when i do it,

i am calm.

watching the skin split wider,

my blade tear through another layer,

i am merely fascinated.

the deeper the shade of my blood,

the deeper the wound,

the more satisfied i become.

i can see the blue nestling in the corner of my current effort,

a vein presenting it self to me.

should i venture on ?

i don’t know how significant the vein  is.

i can’t tell for sure how much further down lies.

the body can be deceptive.

i know i would like the blood.

the fast, pulsing, unstoppable flow.

but i can’t calculate the consequences.

can i move fast enough, if action is required ,

or will i be mesmerized by rush of pure red relief ?

i know even as i contemplate it,

that cutting further is selfish.

it’s stupid.

but

i want to cleanse myself of these feelings.

i’m delaying making the decision.

i’m writing this

&

watching the blood.

the urge is getting stronger.

i can’t let myself off easily.

this is what i need.

this is who i am.

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

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 throat.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 again.how could i trust him not to let me down and how could i trust me not to let us all down ?