Not Cutting Today

Yesterday, not here but in a place I seek support I questioned healing. If it was really possible. I don’t think it is. Not properly.

Often child abuse is referred to like scars, but scars don’t heal, not properly, they are wounds that are just there as reminders. I don’t think full healing is possible. Perhaps it’s just possible to understand.

I always feel like I am searching for answers, and trying to understand the things that go wrong in my life. I try and find the why of everything.

Last night I was plagued with such flashbacks and fear of the bad man, I wonder how I’m ever going to heal that part. I felt like a 5 year old so certain that he was going to come for me. Sure that he was in my house and the moment I closed my eyes, he would be there. I could feel the imprints of his hands in my hair holding me down, his teeth biting into my shoulder and the weight of him as I tried to fight.I’ve been afraid of the shadows forever, perhaps I always will be.

And today is day four since I last self harmed. Small, but it’s still days where I have healed physically, but I’m tired today and feel stupid for my flashbacks the night before.

I don’t want to cut another day.

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Self Injury Awareness Day

Today is self-injury awareness day. It’s one of those things that has many sides. Many people do not understand it, it can be brushed off as an attention thing, yet in truth those that do it, do it alone, they hide it and they are ashamed, there is no attention in that. Most self harmers go to great lengths to hide what they have done. 370px-Orange_ribbon.svg

Last year I, self harmed to the point of needing it to be stitched, I had to go to the walk in centre for this, and it was probably one of the most shameful things I had to do last year. The staff knew what I had done, I didn’t tell them, but there’s nothing like them making you wait to see the on call psychiatrist to be assessed and the fear of being admitted to hospital. In a world that’s so silent in my head, how could I let my family know what I had done to myself? I would never be able to tell them why.

It’s been two hours since my last self harm. It is something I hide and were it not for the day today, something I wouldn’t say.

Mirror.

Mirror 

Note: I wrote this some weeks ago when I was at a point I didn’t see a way out of, I needed an outlet. I thought I would share. Could be triggering to those suffering self harm issues and possibly disassociation. Read with care.

When I look in the mirror I am shocked. That is not my face. That is not how I look. I want to claw his face away. It’s a lie. I am trapped in his body. I don’t look like that. 

I see what everyone sees. I see why they hurt him;   right there in his eyes. It is what he was made for and what he deserves. I hate when I see the tears in his eyes. He looks stupid when he cries. He doesn’t deserve to let the tears go.

You cannot cry for what you are. It’s his fault; he has no right to cry. He is bad. He is worthless. He doesn’t get to cry about that. 

I see his blood in the mirror but it isn’t right. I need to see it for real so that I can feel it. I can’t feel it in a reflection that is a lie. I need to see it happening. I need to feel it; the sharp burn as the skin gets cut.

I grind my teeth down because it hurts, but then I see him doing the same. He doesn’t get to keep the pain away. He isn’t allowed to.

It is his entire fault. I want to smash the mirror. I want to pull him out and beat him. I want him to go away and never come back. I want him to die.

I hate him.

 
He eats and he isn’t allowed. He doesn’t deserve food. He doesn’t deserve to taste things, but I watch him and he does it like he can’t help himself. He has no control. He should eat nothing. He should feel hunger. He should feel everything. 

He is a lie and everyone sees through it. Everyone knows that he is there to be hurt. But it’s not him that gets hurt, it’s me.

They get it wrong. 

I keep drifting off. Not to sleep; just somewhere. I get lost. Maybe he does it. Just like now. I don’t know where I have gone. I don’t really know. My mind keeps wandering. 

I like to watch the skin bleed. I like to watch when it burns from the kettle or the iron. I feel it when it goes over me like calming music. Every nerve reaches to feel it, but then he is there. He spoils it. 

Everything I do, he spoils. I get happy; I get content and think maybe this time things are right. They feel right, but then it’s him and he ruins everything.

I hate him.

Because of him, it all goes. Something happens and it is supposed to be him that gets hurt. Not me, but it’s me that feels it. Me that hurts.

I see the walls fall on the comfortable place I made. They crash down so loud I can’t hear anything else. It’s always this way. It happens every time. I’m a fool to believe that it is different. Foolish to believe in people. Foolish to believe that maybe this time he won’t ruin it. 

Each time is worse. I curl up inside and wish to be taken away. I just want it over. I ask all the time; just take me away. Make it stop. But I am never answered. I know there is no one listening.

 I can’t cut deep enough. I keep trying and it doesn’t go away. It just bleeds. I don’t want it to bleed. I just want to feel that pain and not this one.

He can’t even give me that. 

I want to smash his face in the mirror.