It’s 12:31am and I am laying here. I can feel my heart beating but the rest of me feels so numb. I have no emotion. I have no feelings. Im like a corpse with a heartbeat.
It is times like this where blogging helps me most. Where I can be open and honest with others but most importantly myself. I guess there’s something about typing it out that makes it real to me.
Cutting is my release. I don’t cut to die. I cut to feel alive. It started as a cry for help. I just hoped that someone would see it and save me from the abuse but no one ever did. Then it seemed as if every cut after that was more and more appealing to me. You may be sitting there wondering how fucked up I truly am and the truth is , I’m beyond fucked up. This is what the world has done to me. This is what I’ve become. Unless you cut, you don’t understand the feeling you get. You feel alive. Your mind is at ease when you feel the burn. And the most fucked up part is that when that blood beads up right before your eyes you sigh with relief and then a little smirk appears because for once your mind is calm. And damn it is that one hellacious feeling!
I am in no way condoning cutting. I don’t wish my worst enemy to pick up the addiction. I wish I could go back in time but I can’t so instead I will tell my story.
My wrists. My arms. My thighs. My shoulders. They’ve all been stained red at one point and still continue to. Scars line my body. The body and mind that has lived a thousand lives. Who continues to be dealt the absolute shittiest hands in life and for some reason can never catch a break.
Now I want to mention someone here.
I stopped receiving help after everyone’s answer to my problems was to lock me up in a psych ward. The counselor I trusted so much lied to get information out of me and got me locked away for a week and a half. The other tried their damndest to get me locked back up again but luckily failed. That’s why so many of us struggling never seek help. Most people who are supposed to care, don’t. They pretend to. After so many times of being let down by people I was supposed to be able to trust, I gave up. I went 4 years before it even crossed my mind but I was so lost I didn’t know what else to do.
From the experiences I had encountered before, I was afraid to open up to my new counselor. I thought if I said one wrong thing that I’d be locked back up. That she would automatically give up on me and then I’d be back to square one. I remember it kinda like it was yesterday. I had cuts on my lower arm toward my wrists from a few days before. When I got there and we began talking she noticed all my tattoos and asked to see them. I tried my best to cover the cuts but I think I failed. She first wanted me to know that she didn’t see cutting as a suicidal attempt so I could be open about it with her. She asked if I cut and I denied it. I was too scared but I think she could see me lying. She never once told me it was ok and that I should do it or anything but let me know I wasn’t crazy or disgusting for doing it. I just want to tell you that this particular counselor had a very big impact on my mental health. She never once gave up on me like everyone else in the past had. She genuinely cared how I felt and wanted to hear the many thoughts that clouded my mind. She never once made me feel dumb or like I didn’t matter. She saw my potential and tried her best to help me reach it. She was my hero through one of the hardest life situations I had been through. Never once did she judge me. She helped me more than she realized and I can honestly sit here and tell you that if it had not been for our weekly meetings then, I’m not sure I’d be here to write this now. Moving so far away has been very hard as I don’t want to go anywhere else for fear of being locked up again but I’m forever grateful for God allowing me to meet such a caring soul and the ability to keep in touch.
Some ask well if you got such good help then why are you still struggling? Let me tell you why. No one can fix me. I can’t even fix me. It’s not a me problem. It’s a chemicals in my brain problem. One I’ve yet to figure out. It’s not my counselors fault that I’m not fixed. She tried and did what she could but no one can go in my head and balance everything out. It’s not possible. So I’ll continue pushing through each day and maybe one day in my lifetime I will be able to say I won. But until then I’ll continue fighting the demons inside me. Hopefully.
Until next time y’all.