Monday, 2 January 2012

Cutting (reference to self harm - may be distressing/triggering)

It's no secret that I've tried to kill myself a handful of times.

Before Shane left, we had a fight about his ridiculous family. I lost it. I grabbed a razor and cut myself. Slice after slice on my left forearm. Very superficial. No scars now. But it was a release for my anger and self loathing.

The morning he left, he said goodbye to me in bed. I didn't know then what his plan was. Before he left, he ran his hand over the cuts on my arm. This tells me he knew the consequences of his actions. He knew what he was doing.

Im usually not one for pain. All my attempts have been overdoses.

This time, after i overdosed, i grabbed the razor (this wasn't planned or part of the suicide) and slashed the fuck out of my arm. I was full of panadeine forte and valium and everything else, i didn't even feel it. I saw it. It was such a weird experience, i saw blood gush out of my arm. It covered me, my clothes and my couch. And i couldn't feel it. I could just see it.

It has scarred 'badly'. But i like it. It is a physical representation of the invisible pain that consumed me.

Last Thursday, when Mr mcdonalds left that pain of rejection and panic came back. The panic is indescribable. It is like needing that person to come back like you need air. That is not an over statement. The panic is all consuming.

He left.

I got my razor and cut into my right arm. Two of the cuts were deep. He knew. And didn't come back.

I guess it could be considered attention seeking but 'frantic efforts to avoid abandonment' is what i prefer.

He didn't come back. But it served another purpose. It distracted me from the panic. Two of the cuts will scar. Now i physical representation of how much it hurt when i lost him. The rush of blood was such a relief.

Later that night i chased the feeling. But there was no panic. I just wanted the same release. I could only do pathetic shallow cuts. It still fills me with disgust. Im so pathetic. I want to hurt myself and i can't. It's pathetic. It sickens me.

Tonight Im angry cos Im ridiculous and chasing the idea of love. Sitting on a train picking the scabs off my cuts on my arm from the other day. It hurts. But that satisfies me. Cos i deserve the pain. Im a pathetic desperate person. I hate me. Sometimes i just want to beat myself up.

Sorry for the morbid post. I just had to get this out.

I want the outside of my body to be as damaged, ruined and scarred as the inside.

The pain is just invisible to everyone else. My behaviour erratic and confronting.

I just want someone to love me and accept me for all that i am.

I know Im in love with love. I've lost track of how many time I've been rejected or hurt. But Im a sucker for punishment. Or maybe without that hope Im as good as dead.

1 comment:

  1. Reading this line:

    "I want the outside of my body to be as damaged, ruined and scarred as the inside"

    Made me think of something I posted to Puffin's wall the other day...

    The Perfect Heart:

    One day a young man was standing in the middle of the town proclaiming that he had the most beautiful heart in the whole valley. A large crowd gathered and they all admired his heart for it was perfect. There was not a mark or a flaw in it. Yes, they all agreed it truly was the most beautiful heart they had ever seen. The young man was very proud and boasted more loudly about beautiful heart.

    Suddenly, an old man appeared at the front of the crowd and said "Why your heart is not nearly as beautiful as mine." The crowd and the young man looked at the old man's heart. It was beating strongly, but full of scars, it had places where pieces had been removed and other pieces put in, but they didn't fit quite right and there were several jagged edges. In fact, in some places there were deep gouges where whole pieces were missing.

    The people stared - how can he say his heart is more beautiful, they thought? The young man looked at the old man's heart and saw its state and laughed. "You must be joking," he said. "Compare your heart with mine, mine is perfect and yours is a mess of scars and tears."

    "Yes," said the old man, "Yours is perfect looking but I would never trade with you. You see, every scar represents a person to whom I have given my love - I tear out a piece of my heart and give it to them, and often they give me a piece of their heart which fits into the empty place in my heart, but because the pieces aren't exact, I have some rough edges, which I cherish, because they remind me of the love we shared. Sometimes I have given pieces of my heart away, and the other person hasn't returned a piece of his heart to me. These are the empty gouges -- giving love is taking a chance.

    Although these gouges are painful, they stay open, reminding me of the love I have for these people too, and I hope someday they may return and fill the space I have waiting. So now do you see what true beauty is?"

    The young man stood silently with tears running down his cheeks. He walked up to the old man, reached into his perfect young and beautiful heart, and ripped a piece out. He offered it to the old man with trembling hands. The old man took his offering, placed it in his heart and then took a piece from his old scarred heart and placed it in the wound in the young man's heart. It fit, but not perfectly, as there were some jagged edges. The young man looked at his heart, not perfect anymore but more beautiful than ever, since love from the old man's heart flowed into his. They embraced and walked away side by side.

    How sad it must be to go through life with a whole untouched heart.

    ♥See More

    Your insides are not damaged and ruined, Mads. They are a picture of loves lost and found and shared.

    And not being able to "hurt" yourself "properly" is not "pathetic", it shows your strength that while you do need a release and distraction, you're stronger than you realise because you're not hacking away as much as usual.

    I hope that made sense to you.