At some point, I swear I’ll get a move on with finishing off my story… Please feel free to kick me in the backside if you are on the edge of your seat…
I’ve realised whilst looking over this blog that I haven’t really explained quite why I cut. I am a bit of a minority, it seems, with my reason. The majority of people (or so I have read) use self-harm as a punishment or to express internal torment that needs to be made physical, to cope.
I’m not like that, I’m afraid.
At first, as I’ve mentioned, I used to cut to punish myself. I wanted to punish the bad person I was, and I wanted to have some way of reminding myself how much I lacked as a daughter, sister, girlfriend and family member.
When I was banned from cutting by my ex, I didn’t cut- but maybe I was still self-harming. I got addicted to alcohol in my last year of dance school at nineteen, and quit drinking as much when I realised that it was quarter past eleven and I already wanted a drink. I was trying to forget the argument I’d had with my ex before we broke up that time round, and I was blanking it all out with parties and drink. Being sober sucked.
This time round, I’ve been cutting for a very different reason.
I can express my emotions pretty adequately, I’d say- before getting re-depressed, I was a writer, and wrote with only myself as critic for years. I’m pretty harsh with myself too, so I would hope I am a writer of at least a small capability of using language accurately. I can say when I am sad or in pain, or feeling suicidal, and I have lists of images queueing up in my head to express how I feel. I can also deal with my emotions- for the most part, until I start to crash, and my depression returns. Then, I have highs and lows of emotion that are so unbelievably hard to ride out and leave me drained until the next assault.
I’m pretty sure you’d like anaesthetic too, if you were tired of that rollercoaster and needed a break.
Well, that was my reason. It still is. The knife is a strong anaesthetic which has me feeling nothing at all. I am numb. I can’t cry, I can’t be in pain- nor can I feel real happiness, or experience joy properly. I am a creature with half its senses removed, and I have no other way to end the emotions I cannot be bothered to feel any longer.
Anaesthetic is the way forward for me, because I can’t live life at the minute without. Thank gods I finally have a letter from the psychologist- I can ring, make my appointment and then maybe this hell will be killed off without me dying or me cutting myself to ribbons.
Thank you to everyone who has read or commented, or subscribed. You are all very kind.