Self Harm

I want to cut so badly. I haven't told anyone. I feel ashamed. I know it's not a healthy coping mechanism yet I find myself craving the pain. I know I need help. I need therapy. I promise myself I am going to get it. I really want to hold out but I am not sure I will be able to. 

I am a broken woman. Will I forever be whole? 

Will I someday succumb to this addiction?

 I worry that I will. 

I have been cut free since Nov 23, 2023. Funny how I am writing this on Mar 23, 2023 Is this some sick coincidence?

 It has been exactly four months of no self harm. Yet I think about it almost every day. Will it always be like this? Forever? Will I always struggle with the thought of wanting to do it to cope? 

I feel like no one I know will understand the addiction. No one will be able to handle it if I tell them. I keep it deep inside which only makes it feel worse.

I want to feel the release of all the built up pressure inside of me. I want to feel the burn, the sting and watch the blood seep out of my skin; for in that moment, I will forget all of my mental thoughts and fully focus on my physical pain alone. The physical pain is so much easier to heal. 

I am fully aware of how psychotic this thought comes across. I understand how a healthy person would read this and fully become disgusted at the thought of dragging a sharp razor blade across their skin and intend on feeling some kind of relief. What kind of fucked up person thinks that?

Well, I do. 

Isn’t it funny that at one point during my childhood I literally thought everyone experienced some sort of self harm; like it was part of some right of passage of going through puberty. I also thought it was completely normal to be abused by your parents. What kid didn’t get hit or slapped for getting bad grades or letting go of the grocery cart in the store? 

When I asked my best friend what she did for self harm she literally looked at me like I had three heads. Like I had repulsed her by even bringing the subject up. She had no idea what I was talking about and couldn't even comprehend the thought of harming herself let alone her parents doing so. Right then and there I came to the realization that I was not a normal person. My family was in fact not like the others. That is what my mother meant by saying “What happens in this house, stays in this house.” She too knew that what was going on was not normal and that we had better not speak up or we will be taken away. Why had I not caught on sooner?

When I think back now as an adult, I am surprised my friend's mother let me hang out so often. She must have clearly seen how broken and bruised I was. Here I was thinking I was Cory Mathews when clearly I was Shawn. How completely wrong my perception was. My idea of what a normal family looked like was completely skewed from what my imagination let me believe. 

How mortified I am now to look back and know that all of my friends must have seen how utterly pathetic I was. How disturbed and morid I had been. The looks on my friends' faces when they had seen the slashes on my wrists, the bruises on my body. The abuse of drugs and alcohol. The late nights, the sneak outs, the promiscuity I became. How horrified it must have been for the adults I knew to sit back and watch me self-destruct and yet no one sent help. 

Now I sit here as an adult still healing, processing and wondering what I have become. The coping I have learned is still tormenting me. The reflection in the rearview mirror is still so clear to me today. When will I turn the corner to see a new image? When will I discover my true happiness? When will I decide that I am worthy enough; That I am meant for more? When will I see that I do not need to abuse my body in order to validate my self worth. When will I make the final decision to see that I am who I am and that I can be better for it? 

When will I accomplish that dream that little girl had one day? The one that believed that I could make a difference. The one that saw hope and truth. The one that made a vow to be better than who she grew up with. The one who walked away from trauma and moved forward without looking back? 

My truth is not who I am, it's what I’ve lived through. It does not dictate who I am today. It does not define me and my values. My truth has set the boundaries for which I get to decide what comes down. My perseverance is what will get me through to the otherside. 

The struggle of who I was and who I get to be is one of the hardest to overcome. Those who have seen me in all stages are confused. They do not know that I have not told them all of my truths. I may never share all of my truths. For my real truths will hurt so many I have decided the pain will not be worth it for anyone. For one hidden truth may actually become my demise if it were to ever see the light of day.

The only thing I need for a bright future, is to stop looking to the past for answers. The past only reminds me of pain. It reminds me of the things I don’t want. It reminds me that If I am going to kill myself I better do it in my own home and not someone else’s. It reminds me that help is not near. It reminds me of the beating I took instead of getting help. It reminds me that blood is not thicker than water but runs when you let it. Yet the future reminds me of possibilities. It reminds me of hope. It awakens me to new possibilities. 

It is the only way out of my hell.