Five days and I have not self harmed. I am trying not to break it today. I am trying to hold on with everything I have got to not give into what’s inside.
I’ve come so close, my hands shake, I can’t move, but I try. I fight.
I’ve self harmed since I was 4 years old. It’s what I do. What I know that cuts away my shame. That’s 31 years of being a slave to this condition, but it calls to me. Deep within. The tug inside. The ache under my skin that needs to be let out. The way I feel it. It’s like a need to breathe. A way to cry with no tears. To appear normal. To move onto the next moment because this one feels so smoothing I need to cut free.
I will not cut today. I will not give in.
Self harm is an addiction. It is passed off by society as something odd looking teenagers do while listening to depressing music to get attention. That is not why I do it. It is not why many do it, I am sure.
Sometimes, all that is needed is a hug. A tight hug until the only option is to break and let it out.
I read in the paper a short time ago that when a patient comes in with self harm injuries to the emergency room, the nurses would not give the patient anything to numb the pain. Because it was self inflicted, the patient can deal with their pain then. They can deal with it while getting stitched up and wasting time.
I am sure it’s not practice but it was still a debate. The cause of self harm is passed off as nothing more than looking for attention. Perhaps it was a new idea to save money.
People think it can be stopped. Just don’t do it, but it is not so easy.
Three weeks ago, I had to seek medical aid for something I had done to myself. I was thankful that the nurse numbed the area before she began to stitch.
I am not proud of what I did. I don’t show it off. Most of the time when I am not feeling such mental anguish, I feel quite ashamed of what I have done But while I am in those moments, self harm is the best painkiller I have for the internal pain I feel. All I care for is relief.