My mother told me once that trying to explain our condition to you, is like trying to force a Lion to eat a carrot. So instead of telling you or talking at you, I am better off writing it instead. Word for word, with greater time and more privacy. At 5:25am I have all the time in world, to explain to you what I see...
The scars and cuts on my flesh, of course it is hardly anything to be proud of, nor anything to show off. But letting the wound breath allows it to heal better. Surely such insane behaviour is just a phase, a cry for attention, a childish antic. Hardly, I’ve been cutting since 2005 and I dare not discuss as the reason as to why. That is too painful. I rather cut than express my inner turmoil as I find myself an adult, who must learn to stand alone, not running to mummy or daddy in times of need. So my cry for attention is flawed. A childish antic, not at all. This self damaging behaviour aids in helping me cope with my swirl of unstable episodes of emotions. The pills can only do so much, and my nurse has a habit of loosing contact. And who I am to discuss such painful and shameful matters to those whom already have too much on their plates, not I. Those in crisis team are too bored and tired to care either.
In any case you’ve heard it all before. I seldom want to hear it either. The self harming also deters me from more serious damage such as suicide attempts, think about it. These minor cuts are nothing to 36 pain killers and a bottle of ***, trust me I know...I agree with you that I am ashamed of it, I am ashamed of everything, my body, my so called friends, my Father, my Mother’s illness, my sister’s and brother’s demons, my niece, my ex and Glyn.
To be frank, I am not very confident, I have little friends, hardly go out and a father who hates me. At times I blame myself, and when as now there is no one to talk to, or find solace in at stupid o clock I find a blade. I can hardly run to my mum about the nightmares, flash backs when she herself is ill. As are you all. I want to help you all, but I cannot and there is where I have failed.
So a blade helps calm my vortex of moods, manic, depressive etc. Even when I feel numb, not of this earth, out of place. I need to feel something, anything so I cut. I cut to feel real. It silences the voices and hallucinations. Alas shouting at me before strangers in public is hardly the best thing, you sound familiar to Joe and my Father. Calling me stupid, only makes the pain worse, which only leads to more self destructive behaviour. Doing so before others creates more shame in my distort self image. It will not make it any better, only worse. When someone harms themselves through food, drugs, suicide do they remark them as stupid. No, you try to aid them or aid yourself in coming to terms with it. How do you expect to help me if you treat me as the bullies and abusers once did?
Nellie self harms, this I know. This I understand too. In a life of her horrors can you blame her, at such an age when it comes to the surface again. She thinks herself ugly and fat, you think calling her stupid will make her feel any better? But her self hating behaviour is due to your behaviours of self loathing. She has learned it from years of being exposed to it, yet the self harm is something she never knew I did! Swear to God. I speak kindly with understanding to her, with all the care to be commanding, to the point but empathise with her plight. To this day she has not repeated self harm. Not due to horrid remarks but due to sympathy and mature understanding.
My mother did not join in with your taunts because she has learned and understood I nor her can always cope. She knows I’d rather punish myself than put more weight upon her weakling shoulders. She maybe a mother, but she is also human. She doesn’t want to hear of all my tortures, it pains her too much and I love her too much to drag her through it as well. I often do not feel good enough for her, which is the most painful issue of all.
I do my best, writing, filling up the pages, drawing and singing, but there is only so much you can do especially at 2am. I do not want to harm myself, but it is the need to. A horrid need of trying to deal with the hurricane of episodes in my head. Its like an atomic bomb, a volcano that wishes to destroy and reek havoc. By calming it by hurting myself to a minor extent, I do not bring harm to others in the forms of sorrow or grief. I do not wish to die, I wish to live, but it is down to whether I feel good enough to. So, before you mock me again, think back to these words and what strength it took to write them. To the point and with great respect for you and my family. It is with great love I also write this for self harm is a difficult concept to understand, especially when your generation was strapped to the mains to zap the insanity out of them. Remember knowledge is power, and here is my knowledge to you.
