Aug 2013
Today…my 6 month SI hiatus came to an end, and the clock had to be reset.
Some nights the pain overwhelms me and I do not know what to do with it. It suffocates me and traps me and I cannot find a way out of it. Nothing feels safe and nothing brings comfort. I shake and cry and try to quiet the angry scared screaming voices inside of me – but I cannot escape the brokenness.
That happened to me this afternoon. I locked myself in the bathroom and at first I tried to talk quietly to those inside as I rocked myself in an effort to soothe them. But it didn’t work and so I tried to call a friend, she didn’t answer. So I tried to call the therapist, he didn’t answer but he did return my call an hour later. In the chaos of my mind I did not hear the phone ring, but I did get a voicemail from him. In his voicemail he said, “ I’m sorry you’re having a rough day. If you feel the need to give me a call back I’ll be in the office until 3:30. I do ask that if you call me back I do want to know not just what the problem is but the things you’re trying to do to at least tolerate whatever’s going on...so we need to have a constructive conversation. If all is alright, that’s fine too - you don’t have to call me back, but if you do, bear that information in mind and we’ll talk later.”
The therapist’s voicemail made me feel like a failure. Obviously he didn’t think I had tried to self-soothe and just expected him to fix everything. I felt angry and ashamed and I did not call him back. I took a razor and I cut myself instead. I cut myself because I could not limit my exposure to the chaos inside my mind. It hurt so bad I tried to cut it out of me. I cut myself because it felt like the only option left for me. My body was shaking so bad I could not escape. I wanted someone to help me calm them, calm myself, but I felt like a failure for reaching out because I couldn’t do it on my own. And I shouldn’t have relied on someone else to help me. And so I cut myself.
And I now I am soo tired. I feel even more ashamed and I really just want to stop breathing – I want it to stop – I am afraid I will cut again because I am now constantly thinking about it. I have broken the seal on the dam.
I marked the calendar with a big red “S” for shame and I started the clock at zero. Six months of SI free is now gone. I touch the scab of shame and I chide myself for giving in, for giving up. I feel even more ashamed because now I have to face what I did in front of the therapist. I tried, nothing else was working. I was not able to limit my exposure. I was drowning in the poison and I had to cut- and cut big. And now I have to wait for the incision to heal – and hope I haven’t made everything worse.
Some nights the pain overwhelms me and I do not know what to do with it. It suffocates me and traps me and I cannot find a way out of it. Nothing feels safe and nothing brings comfort. I shake and cry and try to quiet the angry scared screaming voices inside of me – but I cannot escape the brokenness.
That happened to me this afternoon. I locked myself in the bathroom and at first I tried to talk quietly to those inside as I rocked myself in an effort to soothe them. But it didn’t work and so I tried to call a friend, she didn’t answer. So I tried to call the therapist, he didn’t answer but he did return my call an hour later. In the chaos of my mind I did not hear the phone ring, but I did get a voicemail from him. In his voicemail he said, “ I’m sorry you’re having a rough day. If you feel the need to give me a call back I’ll be in the office until 3:30. I do ask that if you call me back I do want to know not just what the problem is but the things you’re trying to do to at least tolerate whatever’s going on...so we need to have a constructive conversation. If all is alright, that’s fine too - you don’t have to call me back, but if you do, bear that information in mind and we’ll talk later.”
The therapist’s voicemail made me feel like a failure. Obviously he didn’t think I had tried to self-soothe and just expected him to fix everything. I felt angry and ashamed and I did not call him back. I took a razor and I cut myself instead. I cut myself because I could not limit my exposure to the chaos inside my mind. It hurt so bad I tried to cut it out of me. I cut myself because it felt like the only option left for me. My body was shaking so bad I could not escape. I wanted someone to help me calm them, calm myself, but I felt like a failure for reaching out because I couldn’t do it on my own. And I shouldn’t have relied on someone else to help me. And so I cut myself.
And I now I am soo tired. I feel even more ashamed and I really just want to stop breathing – I want it to stop – I am afraid I will cut again because I am now constantly thinking about it. I have broken the seal on the dam.
I marked the calendar with a big red “S” for shame and I started the clock at zero. Six months of SI free is now gone. I touch the scab of shame and I chide myself for giving in, for giving up. I feel even more ashamed because now I have to face what I did in front of the therapist. I tried, nothing else was working. I was not able to limit my exposure. I was drowning in the poison and I had to cut- and cut big. And now I have to wait for the incision to heal – and hope I haven’t made everything worse.
