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-