My addiction is taboo…

*TRIGGER WARNING for self harm, suicide, drugs and alcohol*********** If you need help in the UK contact the Samaritans on 116 123.

Self injury is symbiotic with depression for myself. Its the way I’ve learnt to cope with stress, anxiety, low mood or apathy. I can’t remember the first time I intentionally harmed myself but I can remember it featuring heavily in my late teens.

In my post earlier this week, I spoke about intrusive thoughts and how self destructive they can be. When my mood drops, the intrusive thoughts get louder and the urge to harm becomes insurmountable.

This week has been an incredibly low one. My medication helps to stop me crying on a day to day basis (it numbs me alot), so when I cry, you know I’m really going through it. This week I have cried many many times. I’ve felt defeated by my inner critic. Before this week, I had been ‘clean’ from self harm for 3 weeks. The low mood (or high anxiety) leads me to self harm. There isn’t a day goes by this week when I havnt harmed myself. Some days I have been clean for just hours at a time. At the moment, I’m struggling just to go into the kitchen because I know there are knives there and the urge to cut is ridiculous. I’ve failed today on many occasions.

Yesterday was a teary one, and I had simply had enough of life. Some friends must have seen how low I was when I took my daughter round for tea and they asked us to stay the night. When the kids were in bed, me and one of my friends tried to drown out the inner critic by getting drunk and high…  For the first time, I had a really bad trip. I felt myself dissociate. I lost control over my body and I was seeing myself taking all my medication and my friend trying to save me. When my friend left the room, I grabbed my Zippo and heated it as much as possible. I burnt my arm over and over and over trying to feel something. Anything. The world went black and I remember screaming at my friend to save me, that I was drowning and I needed help. In reality I was just sat with my head in my hands, crying, not making a sound. I searched for him for ages. I tried to find my way out of the darkness back to him, back to life. Eventually I managed it. He asked if I was okay. I said no. He said ‘im not sure if you do, but if you ever want to talk about your self harm, know that I’m here for you’. My inner voice was screaming once again for him to help me. My shell just stared blankly and explained that I thought he was out of the room and I was sorry.

Oh how I wish that my body was able to relay the thoughts in my head. It seems the only way I can express myself is through my hands when I type or draw or write. My mouth does not belong to me. It belongs to my shell.

This morning I woke up to blisters and dried blood all over my arm.  I’ve harmed myself several times again today. I plan to do more tomorrow. Its an addiction and while the suicidal thoughts are there, I’m wondering whether it’s worth fighting the urges. I often believe that the self harm keeps me safe from suicide and that if I were to deny my mind the physical pain then my mind would choose to end itself for good.

The inner critic is a terrible person. Even when you harm yourself and you give in, it tells you that you failed to go deep enough. It compares you to others; your scar isn’t as big or your problem isn’t as bad. I feel like a failure. Its black or white. You are either well, or you are suicidal. You aren’t allowed anywhere in the middle….

You can see self harm as destructive, or you can see it as a lesser evil. A temporary solution as opposed to a permanent one.

Wish I could leave -Violet