Last night I stayed an extra hour at work and I’m wondering whether that was the reason why what happened did happen, maybe I was just that little bit too tired, maybe it was because my parents have been away all week and I have slowly but surely been regressing into disordered thinking, I have still been eating (not well but I’ve been eating all the same) and going to work, but taking medication has been sporadic.
When I got home the urge to cut was overwhelming, as well as an overwhelming feeling of despair and sadness. Nothing obvious has happened, but I just felt so upset. I sat and cried, without a reason. I tried phoning a friend and told them I was worried I was getting I’ll again, they told me to go back to the doctor and that seemed to end the conversation before it even started.
I find it difficult asking for help because I am paranoid of people thinking I am attention seeking, so it was hard enough just phoning. For the first time in 10 months, I cut. It felt so good, so familiar. It wasn’t bad, just scratches, at least I managed to keep it ‘safe’ as the last couple of times I have cut I have been unable to control myself and cut deeper and deeper, needing stitches each time, this time I didn’t even need to steri-strip so at least that is a positive
Did it help? No. It just made me feel even more upset and even more sorry for myself. I ended up climbing into bed after taking a little too much Valium, but found myself getting more and more anxious as I lay there. I was struggling to breathe although it wasn’t quite a panic attack. At some point it must have subsided because I woke up this morning unable to remember when I fell asleep.
I am still in a bad place and looking for an escape; I’m thinking about having a drink but it feels as though I have opened the cutting ‘flood gates’ so right now all I want to does cut, cut and cut some more.