Self-Harm Recovery

This is a story I wrote for a website.

Self-Harm Recovery

I started self-harm (cutting) when I was 15. It happened after a traumatic night in my house. I snapped and was looking for a way to channel the pain that I was feeling. I really wanted to die but didn’t know how to. So I decided to “dig” for a vein hoping it would kill me. I never got that far.

Over the years I changed methods, from scissors to razors. I found that razors worked best to alleviate my pain that I was feeling. I remember when I was 17 that I dissociated while I was cutting. It was the only time I lost time while doing self-harm.

During one distressing December, my therapist was on vacation and I cut to the point of needing stitches. I was a trained medical assistant at the time so soon after I got home from the hospital (which was my shortest hospital stay ever), I took the stitches out. I kept the wound open for a good month or so, cutting it every day. This was in 1997. By the time the New Year rolled around, I was getting tired of leaving the wound opened so I made new cuts. This went on for another month or so. I had changed therapists. The new social worker that I met was a DBT therapist and we talked about cutting in detail, such as why I did it, and the like. She told me something that no one had told me before: You can feel but not act on your feelings. That stayed with me.

Around this time, cutting lost its appeal to me. It no longer was the “drug” I was craving. Since then, I haven’t cut, though the urges are sometimes there when I am having a difficult time. I still have my “kit” but I hardly know it’s there. I suppose I could get rid of it as I no longer need it.

Monday Blues

Monday Blues

I took my father to his appointment. We got there early and they took him early, which was a shock as the last few appointments they were late. They had a piano playing so I couldn’t read. Live music tends to interfere with my reading voice. So I just played with my phone and texted my sister. My mother is not destined to have a new fridge. She ordered a new one but they had trouble getting it up the stairs. So again, no new fridge. My mother is very upset as am I. I wish she would just let me order from the Sears website but she doesn’t trust her information on the web. UGH. So annoying!

Things with my father went well until the last leg home. That is when he annoyed the hell out of me. My father isn’t happy until he pisses you off. And that he did. I am still fuming. I can’t fucking stand him. I try not to sit next to him on the train for this reason but there wasn’t another seat to be had.

Despite being mad, I am also feeling wicked sad. I keep thinking about Hyde and how sad he is, which makes me feel sad as well. I am the host. I feel what my parts feel. I just don’t know what to do. I do plan on doing something soon. I thought that would make him happy but it’s not. I think he is sad because he hasn’t been able to write dire things lately. I haven’t been able to let him “out” so to speak. I just haven’t been feeling that level of depression since I upped the trileptal or at least starting taking the full dose of it. I had to take it because I kept becoming hypomanic and the crashes were terrible. I could lower the dose again. Only problem is that I really don’t want the psychache to return.

I can’t live with both physical pain and psychological pain. Having both just makes me suicidal. I think that is what Hyde wants. He feeds off it. It is what fuels his writing. Sadly, it also fuels mine as well. Since being on the “right” dose of trileptal, I haven’t been able to write painful stuff. Actually, I haven’t been able to write anything for my book. I just don’t feel it. Writers have said that if you wait to feel it, you will never write. Well, that is my muse. High emotional stuff gives me things worth writing about.

I seem to write good blogs. My readership has gone up the last few weeks. I even have a consistent reader from Guam that is reading (hi!). I should feel proud of myself for be successful but I don’t feel anything. I feel like I should write more but sometimes I feel what I am writing is boring and mundane. My blog used to be about being suicidal. Now I don’t know what it’s about. My daily life and the struggle I have with chronic pain, either physical or psychological or both.

Speaking of chronic pain, last night Bill Maher made a comment that those that use opioids are “junkies” because of the stupid commercial they had during the Super Bowl about a medication for constipation. The asshole didn’t realized what the presence of the chronic pain community he pissed off, including myself. I didn’t participate in the hashing but I did call him a dick. That was all I could think of to say.

I just get frustrated every day because I feel like I write the same things only it’s a different day. I write because it makes me feel better. It’s like an itch that I have to scratch. If I don’t write everyday, I feel like I am missing something. There are some days when it’s hard to write more than 300 words and then there are days like today where I can write 600 or more. I keep track of my word counts because I am a number nerd, just like I keep track of my blog stats. It gives me something to focus on during the day.

Getting back to Hyde, I just don’t know what to do about him. I guess I should just try and let him out more if I am able. It’s just that there has to be circumstances to let him out and I am not always under those circumstances. He is a difficult part. And it hurts me knowing he is too.

Random 655

I got off the phone with my sister earlier today. She said that my mother ordered a fridge that was 67 inches. Our current fridge is 65. I don’t think it’s going to fit. And I am not going to be moving stuff out of the freezer tomorrow because I will be too exhausted to go to my father’s appointment. It’s supposed to snow again tomorrow and on and off most of the week. Just great. I hope my ankle doesn’t flare up.

I have been eating since I got up. I think I am ready to bust because I had two bowls of my brother-in-law’s chili. It was that good. I had two turkey bacon sandwiches for lunch and then the chili. I think that will be all today.

Last night, a song that has meaning for a friend of mine came on my MP3 player. I had to email her to tell her that I was thinking about her. I didn’t write more than I was thinking of her. She wrote back saying there was a lot going on in her life but she still thought about me. I really wanted to tell her that she was no longer my contact person for emergencies anymore. She just isn’t reliable when I am having a hard time. I found someone else.

I was expecting to feel something today but it’s just another day. I don’t feel any different. My pain levels are minimal today, though I did a lot of stair walking. I had to babysit so I had to go from my apartment to the first floor. Then my niece needed the wifi password so that was another trip up and down stairs. I was going to go out today but I don’t think I will. I am too full and I am getting sleepy. I know it’s nice today but I just can’t muster the energy to get dressed. I wish I could go out in my PJs. I still need to shower, which I plan to do sometime tonight. I won’t be watching the SuperBowl. I just am not interested in it.

Ankle just started hurting so I think I will take my nap now. I need to lie down.

Saturday Blog 42

Saturday Blog 42

I have been listening to all my songs rather than a particular artist the past two days. I have heard music I have forgotten about, music that has lifted my spirits, and music that makes me think of better times. Yesterday, I was thinking of changing the selection to just Bon Jovi as I wanted to listen to their music but every other song was a BJ song so I just left it. The fun part of listening to this selection of songs is that I don’t know what song will be next. It could be a BJ song, Garth Brooks, Reba, Taylor, or Bruce Springsteen. My tastes vary and I like listening to old stuff and new, though I don’t really have new rock stuff. I have the latest Pearl Jam and Linkin Park albums, but that is all.

I realized five years ago today my Godfather passed away. I didn’t have this blog then although I did have a blog. I think it was on blogspot but I don’t really remember. It only had about 10 blogs on it. I had to stop it because I had a person that was annoying me following it. Then they found my new blog (this one) and it was really creepy.

I miss my Godfather. I think about him often. We were somewhat close. I didn’t call him every day because he had Alzheimer’s and I would have to explain who I was every time I called. He always asked the same questions when we talked. What I would give to talk to him just one more time, for him to ask me those questions. He left his wife of only 3-4 years. I still keep in touch with her because she was an important part of his life. They were together more than twenty years but he wasn’t the marrying type. I think they got married only because his health was declining and he had no one to make decisions for him. His brother had died some years ago and he never had any children. He was a good man, funny, kind. I miss his laugh and the way his face would light up when he did.

I remember at the wake, my cousins got around and were laughing at something. I went over to investigate and they told me that now that Leo has passed, that would make my father the patriarch of the family. It was a joke, and what a joke that was. My father is not someone who would lead. He would be the first one out of a burning building, to hell with everyone else.

I wanted to take a shower today but it never happened. I took a nap around 1700 and woke up around 2130. Now I don’t think I will sleep for another couple of hours. I took my night meds. I am hoping it will knock me out in an hour or two but I doubt it. I just don’t feel sleepy. I hope I am not up all night. That will suck.

I started reading a writing book called “Writing Tools”. It’s not a very in-depth book but it does make me think about my writing. The chapter are short, the most four pages long. One chapter I think was only two pages. The author doesn’t call it chapters. He calls them “tools”. It is an interesting book and I am learning a lot. He recommended another writing book, which I am thinking about getting. It’s expensive, like $70 but I think it will be worth it because it has a good section on punctuation. I really would like a book to learn about this. Sure I use periods and commas, but I hardly ever use the colon or semi-colon because I don’t know how to. It’s a craft and I am interested in it.

I have been trying to read the 6th book of Harry Potter, again, but it’s difficult because I always dissociate while reading. It’s like the book transports me to England and I am there for hours when in reality, I have only been there for a half hour or so. I always feel disoriented when I stop reading. It’s an uncomfortable feeling and I don’t like it. I just read it chapter by chapter or as long as my attention span permits me to read. Sometimes a long chapter will have to be split up because I just can’t read it in one sitting. Then I feel bad when it’s only a half hour has passed. I used to be able to read these books like I breathe air. I don’t know why things have changed. My therapist has no understanding of why this happens. I haven’t talked about it with my psychiatrist. I thought this was just a one time thing with these books, but it’s been happening every time I read a chapter. I am fine with other books but Harry has something over me and I don’t know what it is.