Partial Suicide

So I talked to Dr B about sharing parts of my blog with her mainly because I think it would help her in our sessions. I have this abhorrent inability to talk directly about my self harm. I dance around the issue like you wouldn't believe. How the hell is she supposed to help me if I say nothing about why I'm there? She suggested that I "cherry pick" posts that I want to discuss and she'll help me. All right, that's fair. And I appreciate that she gives me the freedom to choose.

I'd love to tell her that I snap rubber bands at work, or bang my wrists and hands till they bruise. I cut to feel something other than anger. I burn to calm down because I can't handle the screaming in my head anymore. "It makes me feel sad when you say things like that, that you hurt yourself," Dr B said once. Really? How do you think I feel when I have to fight my demons alone?! I'm tired, exhausted from living. Sometimes I feel like giving up, but I'm too damned stubborn for that. Besides, I know that I don't want to die. I guess Susanna Kaysen said it best, "I didn't want to die. I wanted to kill the part of myself that wanted to die. A form of partial suicide." What she had done was swallow a bottle of aspirin then go to the grocer's and pass out in front of the meat counter. She'd succeeded in some way, killing only a piece of herself.

Maybe that's what I'm after, killing the part of myself that hates breathing, that finds life a daily struggle. Cutting, burning, bruising as a way to find an inner peace that is beyond me. I can almost grasp it sometimes, barely touching it before it slips away like a butterfly in a breeze. I can find beauty in the most filthy alley, but not when I look into my own eyes... eyes that have watched as my pen slides across paper and writes poetry that others find moving.

You have no idea how damn tired I am, I can't seem to close my eyes without feeling a sense of foreboding. That can't be normal.

Do you know how you can tell that you aren't crazy? You're asking what is or isn't normal. Sane people don't need to ask, crazy people don't care.