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.

Damn It

Stressed out. I'm fighting to not cry, or scream. My parents don't know what to do. Mum offered to have Dad go and get me a beer. the last thing is alcohol. Of course, what I'm craving is something that I cannot have either. I want to harm so bad, just to calm my brain.  I have a blade nearby, so at least I have the comfort of the knowledge that its nearby.

Right now, I'm using deep breathing to try and calm myself. Its not really working. Next, I'll be cross stitching, maybe that will help. I just need to keep my mind busy on somethng productive. I'm just tired and edgy and screaming in my head.

Damn it....
Damn it all.

Feeling Hopeless

I've been feeling so hopeless these last few days. I feel on the edge of tears, borderline despair. Its hard to find a reason to keep going. I'm tired and just want to give up.

People are dying left and right every night on the news. Children with guns are throwing temper tantrums and killing others. Its just a mess.  I see these things and it breaks what's left of my heart. Yesterday, TG and I were talking and the shootings of the last few weeks came up. I was also thinking of a report I'd heard about a former child soldier in Uganda. I cried the loss of lives of such young ones, children that barely had a chance to live before their innocence was stolen from them. It breaks my heart.

These thoughts are haunting me. I wake with them, and have to survive my waking hours with news reports and people talking. I want to escape through music, through books, through self harm. Anything to feel better.

No one seems to hear me, to see me, crying in a corner or hiding in plain sight. I'm so done! There has to be an end! I long for release, for sleep without haunted thoughts of the waking.

What's the Hatter With Me?

I'm feeling a bit manic today. I can't keep still, I have to move something. My hands are shaky, a foot is tapping to nothing and not in beat with the music on the iPod. I went to bed upset, though I don't know why. Took everything I had not to scream my lungs out. Right now, I want to scream until my throat is raw. I want to cut until I'm a mess. The stinging would set me straight, at least a little bit right? Right?? No...? Oh well.

I don't know what's wrong with me, but its like I'm trying to crawl out of my skin. The sudden thought of throwing a rock through my bedroom wall came to me and now I'm having a hard time getting that out of my head along with the thoughts of harming. Oh the joy!

I have worship in about an hour, at least that's when I leave for it. Like this? Of course. By the time I get there I may even appear to be normal. I know I'm going to have to injure to get that done though. I'm too flipping out right now.

Did you ever see Johnny Depp as the Hatter? I feel that way, everyplace at once and only lucid when absolutely necessary. "What's the hatter with me?" Yep, crazy as a deaf bat in the nighttime! WOOHOO!

Unholy Shadows

All right for the last couple of days, I've been seeing shape and shadows flit about in my peripheral vision. I don't like it, it reminds me of my darker days when sleep was as illusive as a fairy god-mother. This doesn't bode well. It sets me on edge and makes me urgy to be perfectly honest. I recall seeing shadows move in unholy ways and thinking that mice and rats had infested my room, but that just wasn't true. And it isn't now.

I know what I think I'm seeing is fake, I know it isn't real. This is how I know that I'm not crazy. When you question, you aren't completely nuts yet. Once you accept this as "normal", you've gone round the bend, as they say. So that is how I know for sure that I don't need to be locked up, not yet anyway.

My problem is the reasoning behind it. Last time this happened, I was freaking right out of my head, going days without sleep, rarely eating, and so stressed out and fed up with life that I am incredibly surprised that I didn't off myself at eighteen. Its not nearly so bad this time round, but my question is why? Why am I seeing this? What's different?

I'm sleeping better these last few months then I have in the previous ten (?) years. I'm not sure how you'll think of getting five to seven hours sleep, but it used to be no more than four. I'm calling that an improvement. I just can't seem to see the reason behind the shadows. And to save you asking, I only just saw the optometrist (see the post I Hate November) and she said that my eyes were very healthy, with the exception of needing corrective lenses of course. I'm fairly sure its nothing to do with my physical eyes. Psychological? I'm not as certain.

How screwed up am I? The forever question seems to be ... why? Its always why?!!! Why do I harm? Why am I so depressed all the time? Why does every small mistake amplify into a failure? Why can I not simply accept that I am 'enough'? Always... always its 'why'. Three simple letters, one tiny word, but such a large meaning behind it.

Fear and Self Loathing

No job, no prospects. Nothing. I'm feeling damned useless and a failure. Self loathing is creeping in and starting to rear its ugly head hissing to me that I am what I fear becoming. Sleep is evasive, filling my head with nightmares. The only way to keep them at bay is to either use a sleep aide or harm myself. I wish to do neither, but I feel I may have no choice. I know what you're thinking, "You always have a choice." Well, bite me! I feel powerless here! I'm drowning and falling into an abyss, ripping my nails out as I claw my way back from the brink of disaster.

For a little while, I was feeling good, really good! Now I feel like crap and wish I hadn't had the time to feel good in the first place. At least then I had no idea what I was missing. I feel like I'll never get that back, though I know the thought is damned ridiculous.

There has to be an end to this crap.

I've started to punish myself with food. For instance, I'll only allow myself to eat once I finish certain tasks. Or I won't let myself eat anything because I'm not working. "Don't eat what you don't earn." I'm surviving mostly on coffee. I feel like injuring now, cutting and not giving a care. Burning and saying 'to hell with it'.


I'm supposed to go out with Nightingale tomorrow evening. Something tells me that she would notice, she tends to be very observant and sees far too much. Sometimes I feel she can look into my eyes and see everything.

Right now, I need a cut or a burn the way a junkie needs a damned hit.

Screwed Up Little Brain

I have a job that is going well. I don't hate my manager, I have great hours that allow me to have a regular schedule for both sleeping and eating. I can read on my down time (there's a lot of that), I can write, play a game... whatever. There is actual income again!

My sleep is regular and there haven't been as many nightmares. There are fewer "forced days". Yet, why do I still want to cut? Nothing is pissing me off, nothing seems to be out of sorts, with the rather noticeable exception of my mother, but there's no getting rid of that. Why do I feel the need to hurt myself when things are going well, or relatively well?

Feeling like I'm broken, damaged, useless.

Crying? Whatever

I am so tired of everything. I don't want to bother with any of it anymore. My brain is screaming for release and I have only one way to appease it. Injure or cry. One leaves scars that last a lifetime. The other? Hell, I can't remember how to cry anymore.

That's not exactly true. Last week I felt so overwhelmed that my system had a mild meltdown. I came home from work, went to my room, and cried until my head was splitting. Did I feel better? Did my brain release hormones to counter the stress? NO! All I got in return was a damned head ache. Where do these yuppies get that crying helps?

Maybe I'm not normal, maybe there is something wrong with me. Hell, that's a given. Of course there's something wrong with me. I cut, I burn, I hit myself. Normal people don't do those things. If they do, they must be better actors then anyone in Hollywood.

Assignment

I wrote last time that my therapist sent me with a homework assignment. First to free write on anger then to write a letter to self harm. The free write on anger is proving difficult and I think I'll write poetry without rules instead. Anyway the letter is done and I wanted to post it here as well.


Dear Self Injury,
It would be easy to say that I don't like you, even that I hate you, but I find it difficult to hate one that has been of such help to me. You've made it easier for me to handle problems that I didn't have the ability to cope with, emotions that were too difficult for me to handle. Times when I felt numb, you've been there to let me feel something tangible. When I've felt too much, you've given me only pain to focus on.

Hitting, you've been a constant companion for over a decade. You never leave a lasting mark, only a change of colours. Your effect doesn't last as long, but you're always around when I need you most. I'm afraid of using you sometimes because I don't want to cause any lasting damage. A broken bone is hard to explain, bruises are easier.

You've been with me a long time as well, Cutting. I've used your services when I need to calm down, when I feel a failure, or that I am not enough for anyone. Your sting is just enough to keep me from loosing myself, from becoming numb. In some way, I'm glad that you're there when I need you, but you've left me with scars. I can't wear shirts shorter then my elbows now.

Its funny how we don't realize that something is self harm until much later. I'm not sure when it started but Scratching or Picking my skin has become as common as Bruising. I don't realize I'm using you until I have bled and the deed is done. I have noticed that I pick when I'm anxious. You're the sneaky one, you come onto my skin of your own accord, uninvited. Often I don't realize how much damage has been done until its too late. You've left your marks on my hands.

Finally, Burning. You have left me with the most damage, you're also the youngest. I'm glad that you don't show up too terribly often. The problem is that you're too good, you feel too good. The pain you give me to focus on isn't like any of the others. The high lasts for hours and the pain can continue for days. The scars, though, though are highly visible, yet no one has ever noticed them.

Self harm, you have twisted my mind and warped my thoughts to the point that anything and everything can become a tool, a weapon to kill the emotional pain. You've become like a gang land ally. I have to pay a price for your help and its not always the help I need. Certainly not the safest way to cope with my problems. In a way, I feel you've lied to me. You promised to make me feel better. I guess I should have read the fine print where you said that it wouldn't be permanent.

Sometimes I feel as if I've become a can of soup, you know, labeled. I have come to think of myself as a Harmer or an Injurer first and a writer second. I know all the thinks I am; clever, intelligent, talented, grounded. Every time I turn to you, though, everything melts away and I am merely an Injurer or a method, cutter, burner, scratcher.

I hate how you have become like a drug to me, like heroin. If I injure enough, I'll calm down and sink into oblivion. If I'm really lucky, I'll sleep without dreaming, without the nightmares that have plagued me for some time. I blame you those partly. The more stressed I get, the further I try to go without you, the more difficult the nightmares become. Some mornings, I wake and want to go straight to you to make the start better then with me stressed out and edgy. Self Injury, you've been a helpful friend, but, like every friend I've had, you can't be trusted. I want to live my life without you, but I'm not sure I'm ready that I can. You have infiltrated my life like a Cold War double agent.

There has to be a way for us to part ways, one day. I know that I'm strong because I bear much weight on my shoulders. I know that we can separate, its going to take time and help, but I'll move forward and live my life without you.

Right now, I feel weak and feeble because I rely too much on you. It has to stop. You're not good enough for me. This parting is going to be long and bittersweet, but it has to happen.

Most Sincerely,
R-

Quiet Time

I've been awake since about nine this morning, late for me. I'm usually up at around 7.30. I studied my Watchtower and did the Bible reading for the week, for which I must have either silence or classical music. I went with silence today because I could not be bothered to mess with the music. Once finished with study, I picked up a book. Girl, Interrupted by Suzanna Kaysen. Its November, after all. I always seem to read this book in November and about once a year. Started it this morning and already almost through. I find satisfaction in being able to read a book in a day.

Back to the quiet time. I'm not sure how I'm feeling today and just want to be quiet for a once. I want to curl in a comfy chair and read and forget that there is Black Friday coming, that I will have almost no sleep before that day. My shift on Thanksgiving ends at 6.30 in the evening. The next day, if it can be called that, starts at 1.30 in the morning. Less then eight hour's turn around. I guess I am taking the quiet now while I can get it.

I think a part of me is worried about my next therapy session. I have to tell her what my goals for therapy are. She wants to know if and what I hope to accomplish in the time I spend with her. I want to feel free to trust people, to be okay with failure and to have better coping skills. I want to feel safe in the quiet again, without things going off in my head. Lately, I've noticed that I'm having difficulty with patterns, namely a striped shirt that my father wears. Its dark green and white stripes, thin stripes. They seem to bend and twist in an unnatural sort of way and it bugs the hell out of me. I see those stripes and my skin crawls. Its like hearing a music box, another thing I associate with being crazy. I wish he wouldn't wear that shirt.

I wonder if I will ever find a quiet place in my head that I can enjoy whenever I want. I'm tired, exhausted of living up to the expectations that others have forced upon me. I want to find that quiet and be pleased. I have those moments, usually when I am studying Scripture. Maybe that is the trick to it all. Shift my focus, instead of seeking what is inside--namely a dark expanse that I am unfamiliar with-- I should focus on Scripture and worship. Inner peace. Isn't that what we all seek?

Bad Start

This is turning out to be a bad day so far. Its only 0642 in the morning and I've woken with a headache. The coffee doesn't taste too great, the butter was rock solid so toast was out... and I'd made the toast assuming that the butter was not in the fridge. I have to work today and would rather stay home.

I want to read a book, or knit, or cross stitch. Anything but go to work. Hell, I'd rather pull weeds in 90F heat then go to fucking work. I hate my job. They don't pay me near enough for all the bollocks I have to put up with. I have to move out some time next year, but am unsure where I shall be acquiring the funds to do so. I'll have to get a room mate, but who? Maybe Ella. If she agrees...

My head is too full of things. I'm still on edge, probably will be all day. I need, or feel like I need, to injure to make the anxiety go away. Can't I just go back to bed? Please, pretty please with a cherry on top?

Books, Dissociation And Crazies

So I finished reading Kafka On The Shore by Haruki Murakami. I enjoyed it. There are two stories going at once and the suspense of seeing how they converge is agonizing. Murakami isn't an author for everyone and certainly has some outlandish stories. Personally I think his books are incredibly beautiful and poignant. I'm reading A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by David Eggers, an autobiography. So far its pretty entertaining in the way its written... and I haven't gotten out of the Prologue yet.

I'm in a chat room right now as I write this. The topic for this morning is dissociation. Though calling that the official topic is a bit of a stretch, it is a chat room after all. The topic changes as often as a premadonna changes her clothes. Keeping in mind that the chat room is full of people who have or currently do self injure, most of us have dissociated from time to time. I personally hate it when I do. I loose control of myself at times, forgetting where I am or what's real and what's a dream. I've injured while in such states and its not good for  me. I don't use the usual control methods. I've cut a little too deep, or too many times. The first time I burned I was only partly aware it was me doing it.

I don't like feeling like I'm not in control. All my life I've been told how I must be, who I must be. Now that I am an adult, I tell myself how to be and act. When I dissociate then I loose those carefully laid walls of protection, for myself and others. I don't know what I'll do, but I am fully aware what I am capable of and its unpleasant.  In a dissociative state, I beat the hell out of a kid who'd pissed me off. Of course I wasn't looking so hot after either, but still. I don't remember the fight. I remember hitting him once then being deposited in the hall and being called a crazy bitch. I know how he looked after and I don't want to hurt people. Its bad enough that I hurt myself. Why should others suffer my pain?

Sometime I wonder, all right often I wonder where this pain all came from. I was never raped as a kid, I was never beaten by my parents. I had a happy childhood. There were emotions that I never learned to handle, but that shouldn't have made me like this, should it?? I don't know, I'm so broken that I don't know what I'm supposed to be any more.

People joke about me being the crazy girl, the laughing girl. If they only knew that I was merely protecting myself from them, from my own mind, would they still be laughing with me?