Moving home *TRIGGERING*

So after the overdoses, and the problems at Lyns, I moved home to live with my parents. It is not an ideal situation (I am still living here now) as they do not understand about my problems and can be very insensitive, also they do not think about the fact I may need support, and do all they can to block out the fact that I may have a ‘mental illness’. That said, they provide me with a roof over my head, and food in my belly, so who am I to complain.

For a while, I was doing ok. It took me longer to feel ‘well’ again after the last overdose, but i gradually got there. I was harming on my legs, particularly when times got stressful and I was feeling bad about myself, but there were only scratches.


Notice the word on my leg. This is another strange thing – I don’t understand my motivation for writing words – I wish I did though.

After this, for a little while I managed not to harm, and I had returned to work on a part time basis. My parents decided that they were going to take a holiday, and I didn’t think anything of it, until they actually left and I found myself alone in the house. It was almost as if it triggered some meltdown switch, and I found myself unable to think clearly enough to get up in the morning, to attend work, or even to feed myself. The simpliest decision such as toast with cheese or beans became impossible and I spent many hours simply lying on the living room floor, too exhausted to move. (I have mentioned this before, I do not believe it is exhaustion, merely a mental state).

One night, I found myself with the overwhelming desire to cut. But, for some reason, I had the presence of mind to think to myself, if it was so bad to need stitching, I wouldn’t be able to get myself there without calling an ambulance and drawing attention to myself, which the neighbours would surely relay back to my parents on their return. So, I took a kitchen knife, got in my car and drove to the hospital. Then, sat in the hospital car park I sliced my leg open, before walking into A&E and asking to be stitched up.

Now, I know how crazy that is. You don’t have to tell me it’s crazy, and attention seeking at it’s most finest. But my point is, WHY did I do it? There MUST be some reason? Perhaps I enjoy the attention I receive from being looked after in A&E? Possible – but not likely – because they is a lot of stigma attached to self harm and it’s quite common to be treated with contempt. I obviously didn’t NEED to do it, because I was quite happy to wait until I drove to A&E (a 20 minute drive) so I wan’t acting upon any desperate urges. BUT… there must be some reason. I firmly believe everything has a reason, I just haven’t worked it out yet.

Take care. x



  1. I starting cutting words into my arm (much less extreme) because #1 I could justify it as “art”. #2 it took longer and more concentration, and #3 there was a better reason to go over the same cuts over and over.
    My therapist explained to me that doing things I hate, most of the time subconsciously, is the ultimate self harm. Makes sense. I do things, mostly impulsive, that I have no clue why I do. And ya, I do things that take as long as driving somewhere. At the moment it just seems logical. With u, you didn’t want your parents to see so you logically drove to where you could do what you wanted (and if you’re like me, knew would relieve anxiety or whatever it is. But makes me feel better anyway) and then get help. It just seems like a logical plan.
    Thats what’s so messed up about all this, the same w your letter. I totally get it. But I KNOW if I didn’t have BPD it would just sound crazy!
    I don’t know if we’ll ever figure out why we do what we do or want to do…. sucks!

  2. PS. It just seems to work out lately that every time I get online you’ve just posted. So I’m not stalking you, promise. πŸ™‚

    1. Hehe, I think you’d be a nice stalker to have, you would have saved my life yesterday (If I had needed it, lol!). I think you might be right about the words though… :o)

      1. True! At least I’m a “trying to save your life” stalker. πŸ™‚ I dunno about the words. I didn’t think about it, I just did it. I wrote “failure” a lot… but on my arm I wrote “Fear Not”. I want to get a tattoo over some of it, but not all. I want the reminder. I heal like a superhuman. Which I guess is good, but not when you’re a cutter. πŸ™‚ So I have like tiny scars. Very funny God! I’ve posted pictures before of some of my cuts, but I should do a picture of what it looks like now. You know what’s crazy, the rubber band snapping actually looks like it might leave more scaring. Weird!
        Are you still cutting?

      2. I also wrote failure a lot, and ‘bitch’ or names of pets (lol) that I had lost. I haven’t cut now for nearly 10 months!! It’s so hard because I get urges all the time, but I’m working really hard at it to ignore them. πŸ™‚ xxx

      3. Good Good Good!!! I’m so glad. I haven’t cut since the end of December… so I guess about 4 months or so. If I do cut, I have to go to a long term place and go through a different kind of therapy before I can continue with what I’m doing now. So… It’s not worth it. Although sometimes, as you know, the urges are strong enough that it takes everything in you to stop from doing it!
        I’m so happy that you’re not cutting anymore. 10 months is a long time. πŸ™‚

  3. I honestly still cut myself, I also basically succeeded in killing my self, I was dead for 4 minutes and they brought me back by using those paddles on my heart and putting ivs with blood in them

    I’ve tried so much and im only 16. I carved alot ozf words into my arms legs chest and stomach, and I still continue to do it.

    1. Do you need help? xx

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