Long time no see, but I guess i’m back again, at least for this post.
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I haven’t written in ages because i felt, or feel(?) that it only makes things worse, like ripping up old scars, and to be honest it sort of sends me on a roller coaster ride to the past. I keep reminding myself of all my mistakes, and things i could’ve done, but didn’t do.
Quick update sort of.
Erm.. last monday, i guess its almost two weeks ago, i had to go to the hospital to get some stitches, i went by myself and when I told my parents they freaked. It wasn’t even that deep, i mean, i could’ve easily just lived on without getting stitched up. I really don’t get why it would shake them up like this, I mean, come on its only stitches.
What bothers me is that its not the first time i’ve harmed myself, so why should it cause so much trouble for everyone else this time? My mum said because it made it all more real, and when i told her for the first time that i was self harming, one or two years ago she thought it was just a phase i was going through, just like my sister and some others. They all got over it, but i didn’t.
My sis did it ages ago, years ago, no one said anything, nobody got affected. I do it and it affects everyone all of a sudden? Where’s the sense in that?
A few days later my mum told me that i had to get punished for what i had done, since i had done such a bad thing. I got angry, frustrated, even scared cause i didn’t undertand it, i still don’t. i wan’t allowed on the computer for a week, and they told me that the next time I did it it would be for a month.
I haven’t done anything in six days, if you look past the picking on scabs until they bleed, but that hasn’t been intentional either, i think.
I gave up my blades Monday this week, it was hard, but it had to be done. I am no way ready to stop, to give it up, but what can I do when my mum’s saying that my step dad’s threatening to move out and take my little brother with him if i don’t sort this out.
I have so much on my shoulders.
What confuses me and sort of bothers me is that it isn’t as hard as it should be, not even close. And i don’t even get why it’s not more difficult to handle, because it used to be.
I’ve been talking a lot more with my mum though, trying to open up more to her, let her in, and i discovered that my “monster”(yes we named it) is the one convincing me that my mum will make things worse, she always does, she can’t be trusted, she doesn’t care, etc , etc. But maybe it’s not like that at all? Maybe she never was, or did she change? I don’t know.
These last few weeks I’ve had a lot of trouble falling to sleep, and staying there, I’m constantly tired, I have no energy to do anything and the pain never leaves. I don’t know what to do.
I know that my “monster” is my self destructive part, it literally wants me dead, and that’s a fact.
I’m trapped in it sort of, it refuses to let people help if they get too demanding, if they demand i do something about it, it just shuts them out. My mum even told me that when she’s been trying to give me some advice about what i should do instead of cutting, its like i see right through her, i don’t see her, she could as well just be talking to a wall.
As soon as my mum or someone else opens their mouth to try to help, my “monster” immediately starts to protest, telling me they’re wrong, it won’t work, you can’t do it, etc. And the worst part is that I actually believe in it, because what else can I do, I mean, the “monster” is a part of me, therefore it is me, isn’t it?
Resisting self injury isn’t difficult, but it’s only the start. I don’t have any tools or razors left to do it anyways, but i’m expecting the urge to ambush me sometime along the way.
One more thing before I wrap it up is that the day I gave up my razors, my “monster” described my scars as a “masterpiece”, and yeah you could say I was shocked, but at the same time i thought/think the description were right, it suited them.
My scars will never be good enough, i know that, not even if it somehow caused my death it would’ve been good enough, I see that, but when I’m in the middle of it, I don’t see, hear or think anything but what my “monster”wants me to see.
I might’ve been forced to give up my self harming, but I will never give up my scars. Don’t ask me why, but I’m strongly resistant when it comes to that.
Bekka – InsideOut