It had been building up inside of me for a while. I couldn't deal with everything and I needed some kind of release. I had become obsessed with cutting myself; it was at the back of my mind all the time and it was interfering with my everyday life. I tried to fight it, I really fucking tried but the voice in my head telling me that it would make me feel better just wouldn't go away.
I caved in. I know that makes me such a weak fucking person but I just couldn't help myself.... It wasn't impulsive, it was very deliberate. I went to the pharmacy to buy a packet of blades and as I went to pay for them I felt relief. I was in control... I am so in control of my own body that it's up to me if I want to slash it. People seem to think that self harm is a side effect of being out of control but they are wrong. I may not have much power in life but I have the power to decide what happens to my body. I didn't used to have that power when I was being abused but now I do have it and nobody can take it away from me again.
As soon as I got home that day (Tuesday), I ran up the stairs to do the only thing that I could think of that would numb my emotional pain. Initially, I tried to do very small and very superficial cuts and although it helped it just wasn't quite what I needed. I felt angry with the world for putting me in a place where I had no control and no power. I felt alone. The cuts became slightly bigger and slightly deeper but that was okay, I didn't mind, it made my pain feel real. Physical pain is a lot easier to accept and control than emotional pain.
I wish I could say that it didn't help but I can't. For over as hour I felt relief. For over an hour I was actually distracted as I cut myself and then stemmed the bleeding. For over an hour I 'cared' for myself.
Of course, the shit didn't stay hidden for long. Emotionally I was back in the same place as I had been before I cut myself within a few hours. I wanted to do it again but I didn't then and I still haven't but that's certainly not to say that I won't.
I am able to acknowledge that things are getting worse. My heads a mess and now my skin is a mess too. I contacted the lady who did my initial assessment at the counselling service first thing on Wednesday morning to explain that I was struggling. She left me a voicemail later that day to say she couldn't get through but she would try again later. I heard nothing throughout the rest of Wednesday, I heard nothing throughout Thursday, I heard nothing throughout Friday and I've heard nothing today.
What's the fucking point in any of this?
No comments:
Post a Comment