Mum Asked... I Lied

So I'm sitting across the room from my mother and she sees my latest burn. The skin is a bit read but, not infected. Its healing rather well, actually. She just saw the mark, not that actual burn itself. She asked me what it was and being across the room with her eyesight as poor as it is, I could get away with the usual lie.

"Nicked myself at work," I shrugged.

She accepted that and left it. I hate how easy it is for me to lie about my injuries. Its almost as simple as breathing. I kept the burn hidden for just over a week. After all this time, all these stories and blaming my clumsiness ( which is very real, I'm incredibly accident prone) she finally notices and asks. We were expecting company, I wasn't in the mood, I didn't tell the truth.

Some day, I'll tell them everything. Some day... probably never. I've gotten into this thing alone. I'll get out of it with the help of my Doc.

Something I've Always Wanted To Do

I have always wanted to go through my hometown and take photographs of the buildings, the people, the flavour that makes my city interesting and wonderful. Without a camera, though, this has been just a pipe dream. Ah! But my father has become a shutterbug in his old age and has purchased a few cameras over the last couple of years. One of them is a simple Kodak digital. Its not much, its not fancy, but its simple and portable.

Saturday I went to a movie with TG and a bunch of her friends and family. Great film, The Giver. Rather well done for a book to movie, they usually leave me angry, but not this time. I digress. Photographs. I was early because parking in Downtown can be a royal pain in the arse. I brought the camera with me and managed several decent shots, if I do say so.

This man was getting married. His future mother-in-law made the vest for him.

The Arts Counsel Grants building. First floor is a restaurant that I've never tried.  I've always loved the architecture.

This man was selling his wares near the river. He looked so sad and lonely, I couldn't help but take his photo. I may write a story about him one day.

There's an amazing sculpture that looks like a huge butterfly. Seriously, its wonderful. The wings turn in the wind. Something constructed purely of metal can look so elegant fascinates me. I also took a photo standing inside. Nice viewpoint.

Finally, my favourite. This is a young man playing an accordion. Its not a common instrument, but hey... its a hobby. He was just down the way from the older man selling bracelets. I was struck but the young man, busking for change and playing by the river.

There will definitely be more of these. It was fun, creative, relaxing. 

A Conversation With Myself

All right, so Doc thought it would be a good idea for me to write out the opposing sides of my brain, of myself, when I want to injure or am thinking of injuring in general. What goes through my mind when I think of harming? All right... I've decided to write this as a conversation. Italics will be the "for" side of myself. Regular will the be "against" side.

I hate feeling this way, this anger at my parents, at the world in general. Or worse, I hate feeling numb. Numb is dangerous, it makes me desperate to feel something tangible. When its not the feeling of being numb, its that anger. It wells up and makes me feel out of control. That isn't something I am willing to forfeit, that control. 

Its perfectly fine to get angry once in a while. On the bright side, feeling numb means I'm not angry. Feeling something "tangible"? That's understandable, but something like a very hot or very cold cold shower might be a better idea. Control doesn't have to be forfeit, but I may not the strangle hold on it either.

It feels so good though, that high, that peace. That moment of calm. Those minutes and even hours in which I actually feel calm, feel good. Of course, those are also the moments that I don't want to scream at people. 

How long does that high last? Cutting is only a few hours, burning might last me a few days. In the end I'm right back where I started, so what good was it? All I end up with is another scar and no better off then I was at first.

Doesn't matter how long as long as there's a result. The scars are nothing important. No one ever notices them anyway. Not even the therapist, who seems to notice everything else, saw the scars until I showed her. Remember, harming keeps me in control and makes sure that the only person I hurt is me. 

That's a load of crap! The scars will always be there, some may fade, but many will remain. And someday some one that I don't expect will notice and I'll have to come up with an idea or another lie. Its the lies that get to me, they add to the guilt. That crushing guilt that makes me hate myself a little more every time I injure. I'm sick of the guilt, of the lies, of the nightmares, of everything!!

Those are perfectly good arguments for injuring. Why feel all that? Its perfectly acceptable to do something to feel better.

But not self harm. There are major risks involved! I could cut too deep, or a burn could get infected. Worse, there may come a time when I'm impelled (read forced) to go into an inpatient centre. There is not a valid to reason to self harm, no matter how well I may seem to justify it.

Hate to say this, but it is my body. I can do what I want to it.

That's a load of bull! I know full well that I have no right to destroy my body this way. Screwing around with pills and booze, blades, matches... That is not what God intended when He created me. There was a better purpose for my life than adding scars to my skin.

True, but that doesn't mean it still doesn't help those times when I'm feeling so terrible. Or confused. Or angry. Or any other emotion that I can't seem to handle. I like how I feel afterwards. There I said it. I like how I feel. 

Doesn't matter though! Feeling good or calm but using self harm to do it isn't going to last forever. What happens when burning isn't enough? Gonna start doing lines or something just as stupid? Of course, not, but still the point is: There will come a time when these current forms of harming won't be enough. Then what?

I don't know. I hate not knowing. 

So we are at the end of the conversation and nothing has been accomplished. I'm tired, I have a headache that I've been fighting all day. No, been fighting it for several days. 

This running dialog is similar to what goes through my head every single time I injure. Its exhausting, it really is. I have no idea how this is going to help Doc help me.

I Did It

So I did it and showed Doc my scars. Her response was, "That is a lot of pain." No kidding.  Honestly, it went better than I thought. After a while, she asked me what I was feeling. A bit scared, a bit relieved. Honestly, I'm not sure if I want to quit. Part of me does, part of me doesn't.

Doc suggested that I write out both sides of that debate. I put the arguments in my journal and will post a similar account later. Right now I'm exhausted and need to sleep. I'd been mulling over this moment of telling Dc for a week and lost much sleep worrying over nothing.

I'm glad it went so well, really. I'm in hury to tell the world mind, but it does make it easier.