This thread may or may not interest any of you. But its something thats quite near to my heart.
Self harming is becomig more popular by the day. But whats it all about? Is it attention seeking? A cry for help?
I find self harm a way of realeasing things.
People think they know you oh so well. Reckon they know all your problems and emotions, how it feels when you wanna just give up on everything, even life. I was sat talking to someone earlier on today, chatting about depression and so on. They kept reapetedly telling me it was an illness and that when i had it i was ill. Tried explaining that it was not an illness just a feeling, but they've been through depression and it is an illness. Whatever!! I just blankly ignored him and walked off in a raging temper. How dare some random person try and say that i was mentally ill!!
Depression is horrible. You live in a routine. In a routine that is slowly killing you. You go outside and think how easy it would be to just throw yourself under a car, or junp in front of a high speed train. You cut your arms and wrists just to get that feeling of being relieved. When the blood seeps through its all your emotions pouring out. Its your own way of showing how much your hurting inside. Some people who think they know it all just say its done for attention seeking. WHAT!! Its not something you enjoy doing, or want to be doin. But after time it becomes an addiction. Like being addicted to smoking or drugs. You crave it. Its your only relief system, crying no longer does the job for you. But as your doing it you stop, and look at your poor savaged arm and begin to think if its the answer to all your problems, you begin to think its stupid and regret it. So you do it more because it releases those feelings to.
Its not something to brag about though. Trust me. Its not clever or smart. But its your way of dealing with life.
You wake up the next day, arm soaked and sticky with dry blood. Hurts to move it does it not? But it was worth it right? You kid yourself into believeing it was worth it. Push the felings that know it was not down past your knees all the way down till you cant hear them anymore and your walking on them. But there comes a day when you stop and listen to those feelings. Realise your are messed up in the head, realise what your doing is stupid. So you chuck out anything sharp in a bid to get clean. But you also know that the slightest bit of pressure or stress and you'll crack! So you try your hardest to avoide it. Avoide everything that makes you stressed, un-comfortable, nervous, pressurised, angry. Cos deep down you know that they will make you crack. Yeah sure you can keep telling yourself that it will all be fine, that you dont cut anymore, thats your past now. Really? But then your put under pressure, even if its tiny you crack. So you go home raid the bin for your razor blade, kitchen knife or anything that'll cut. You sit quietly and build it all up til it spills outta you in your blood. Your bleeding again. But deep down you care, because you have let yourself down again. Yeah sure you tried, just not hard enough. Now you'll wake up tomorrow back to your old routine of hard, dried blood stuck to your arm, that pain as you bend it and the cuts open up again. You dont want that anymore so you move onto your wrists. Cutting deep and hard. Your sure this is the end of the line for you. You pour alchol into your cuts and take a mixture of pills from the pill cabinet until, finally, you pass out in the floor. Hoping nobody will find you, you wanna be left to die, end your on-going suffering. And youu hope it has, No routine to follow now, no cutting, no thoughts or feeligs or emotions. No nothing. So you got what you wanted. But was it really worth it? Worth killing yourself for? Only you can deicide that.
That is until you wake up in hospital hooked up to every machine goin. Drugged up the your eyeballs cos you've had to have your stomach pumped. Still think it was worth all the pain, hassle, grief?
I cant say much really. I'm sat writing this with about 80 or 90 cuts on my right wrist and arm. Tomorrow i'll wake up with hard dry blood stuck to my arm and pillow, my arm will hurt to bend because everytime i do the cuts will open back up. I keep repeatdly askin myself if it was really worth it? If i'm truly honest..............no. But i did it and sure it felt great, at the time. But now i'm filled to the top with regret.
You see. Its things like regret that make us keep coming back to self harming and attempted suicide. We regret doing it so we do it more to kill th pain. Its a cycle that goes as follows:
Stress----------Cutting, harming----------good patch----------stress---------cutting harming----------good patch.............. and so on and so forth. Its really is a vicious circle. But its also something that is incredibly hard to snap out of.
Take today as a fine example. I split up with my boyfriend who i loved with all my heart. We had been goin through a rough patch but we did not want to loose each other. But he had not text me or let me know if he was ok for about 2 days. I was textin him and askin how he was but gettin no reply. So thinkin he was ignoring me i split up with him on the grounds that we were not workin out and he was ignoring me. Only to find out he had no credit and no money for credit and no way was he ignoring me because he loved me to much for that. But he would not have me back cos i would not give him a chance to explain why he had not been in contact. So i lost someone i really really loved just because i got paranoid. So i'm cuttin as i write this as well.
I did wake up this morning with dry blood on my arm, but no doubt i'll do it again.
This is like my own little diary in a way. But the only differance is that anyone can read it! I used to keep a diary. Thats how i stopped cutting the first time, until my mother found it and invaded my private life in every which way possible. That really hurt. She found out things about me that even my closest friends did not even know. My life day to day, my personal life. My thoughts on everything and anything. My emotions and my most private thing. My cutting! I used to cut twice maybe even three times a day. Used to drip blood on the page so i could remind myself of what anoyed me, a memory of my cutting. So of course when she found it and confronted me, i was extremely angry, upset and very very hurt. Now if i write anything remotely emotional or pesonal then i keep it in a combination lock box.
Coming off self harming the first time was hard. I cant actually remember the first time i cut. I can remember nearly all of them like it were yesterday. I tried to jump off the local train bridge once. I had been made really angry by my family and was dead set on ending it all that very day. I can remember that as if it was yesterday.
It was a warm summer evening. The sun was low in the sky, there was still the odd bumble bee flitting around the garden collecting what he could before the sun sank into the distant horizon. All was peaceful. Except for in my house. Insults were being thrown across the room by my mother and me for the majority of that evening. She said something personal to me. (Was probably about my real dad whos name i cant bear to hear and who i'm ashamed to say is my father.) Anyway i stormed out and unfortunately bumped into someone who was not exactly the most supportive of people. Stupidity over came me and i blurted out the entire story from start to finish. Thats when i also added the small fact that i was goin to jump of the bridge. Thats when she said i was a coward and could not fullfil it. That i did not have the guts to jump, was all talk and no action. That i was stupid and crazy.
Thats when my best friend at that moment in time walked past and saw me run in the direction of the bridge. When they arrived i was balanced on the edge rocking backwards and forwards on my heels and toes. In the distance was a high speed train that was not stopping at the tiny station of Newton Abbot, i was jumpin.
Thats when he raced forward just as i went to fall forward and grabbed me, hauled me onto the path and hugged me tightly. I really do owe my life to him now. Because if he had not been there i would be dead.
You see, its when people torment me and test me that i shine. Even if it is with my life. I love playin with life and death. I love pushing myself to the limits. Crazy i maybe but thats something you learn to live with. Or is it?
Yesterday i cheated death. God only knows how, but i did. I was amongst the many survivours of the Reading Crossing Crash. Sat in coach D we got the full force of it. Worse affected was the driver and buffet crew. That is something i'll never forget. But at the same time its made me realise how important life is, how little or how much time you have.
