Yesterday was not such a good day. It started off ok – I decided to go shopping with my cousin, and depsite not buying anything, we had a good time. We only stayed out for a few hours but by the end of it I felt exhausted. We decided to cut the day short and go back to her flat to watch a film; but within a few minutes of being home I had plonked myself on her bed and fallen asleep. I woke up a few hours later, made my excuses and drove towards home. I stopped in at a KFC and ate a massive meal, I am weak, and disgusting. I can’t even control what goes into my mouth.
I was starting to feel bad, and knew that I needed to cut. I knew that it was going to be bad, so I headed towards the hospital instead of home. On the way I stopped and bought a bag of disposable razors because I didn’t have anything on me. I said to myself that if I got to the hospital, and the a & e carpark was full, it would be a sign that I shouldn’t go ahead with it. When I got there, it was full. So, instead of turning round and going home like I should have done, I drove to the main carpark and turned the engine off. I sat there and flicked the ends off the razor to extract the blade, and sat looking at it on my lap.
I have no idea how long I sat there but it was over an hour. There were so many conflicting thoughts in my head. I caught sight of myself in the rear view mirror and realised I may have been heading out of/into a dissasociative state as my eyes looked almost as though I was drugged up on diazepam, and the only medication I am taking at the moment is the Escitalopram.
I had such a conflict of emotions going through my head at that point. I tried to weigh up the pros and cons of what I was about to do;
The pros; I felt like I needed to cut, I needed to see the blood and have the stitches in my arm (for some reason, having stitches makes me look after myself, its almost as If my personality is split into two parts, and when I am injured, one half becomes protective of the other, does that make sense?!), it would make me feel better, it might give me access back into mental health services as they investigate self harm in a&e, it might make people realise I am not as ‘well’ as they think I am, and they need to stop putting pressure on me
The cons; It would be another ugly scar that I would hate and resent as soon as the feelings and urges had passed, people would blame me, people would be ashamed of me, I do know deep down it is wrong
So, I sat there for another hour, with all these feelings going through my head. It was starting to get dark, but I could neither make the cut, or leave the carpark. Something was holding me there but something was stopping me.
Another two hours passed and I still had not made any move to harm myself, but also, I was still there. During this time I had experienced progressively more disordered thinking, feeling emotional pain inside my chest, feeling ‘out of it’, feeling sorry for myself, crying, rocking.
After a while, I started the car, and I drove towards home. I should have been proud of myself for not making the cut. It was the right thing to do. So why did I feel like such a coward, so weak? I know my view of ‘bravery’ has been distorted, but I felt like in some way I had let myself down. I wasn’t even brave enough to do the one thing I had spent the past few weeks needing to do.
Take Care. x