I don’t usually warn if there are going to be triggers in my posts, because I can’t censor everything I write and the nature of this blog is probably triggering anyway. However, there’s detail of self-harm which, if you’re feeling at all vulnerable, probably should be avoided. Eating disorders too. Be safe <3
A lot of the posts I write never get published. Some are still sitting there in my drafts folder, others have been permanently deleted because I never want to read them again. Some I abandon halfway through because typing those words is just too painful. Others I start, but then I pass out in a dope/codeine/alcohol haze before finishing them.
This post, I want to publish. I don’t want to write it – God knows I don’t want to write it – but if I’m going to be honest and keep track of the ups and downs, I have to stop hiding behind the magic “publish” button. True honesty – the entire point of this blog – can’t be had if I’m going to delete posts and never let anybody know they existed.
Today, I thought of both cutting myself, and making myself throw up. Not only did the thought enter my mind, but I planned exactly how I was going to do it; taking my new razor apart (with much sweating and swearing with a pair of scissors, trying to cut the plastic off) and repeatedly cutting all the part which made me feel inferior. My pale, wobbly belly. My flabby underarms. My hips. Inner thighs. My chin. All those hideous freaks of anatomy which make me avoid full-length mirrors and looking at myself naked. I walked around Asda – supposedly shopping but avoiding buying any real food – with my paranoia switched to full and the urge to harm myself almost reducing me to panicked, hysterical tears at the checkout.
I take two steps forward, and ten back. Some days I can almost believe I’m on the road to recovery from all this shit, and on others I realise that I’m always one tiny step from total meltdown and the slightest thing could send me all the way to crazy again.
I didn’t harm myself, or make myself sick. By the time I finally got home – what felt like milennia later – the urge had dulled a little, and a couple of joints calmed me enough to feel safe-ish. Not safe, just ish.
However, something came home with me. 28 Solpadine Max tablets.
Codeine. My old friend. My worst enemy.
I’ll always be walking in circes.
- Tears In The Night. (faithandmeow.wordpress.com)
- I had a flashback of something very bad that happened to me years ago. I like telling things as though they didn’t happen to me so I don’t feel like a freak… (heartacheandbliss.wordpress.com)
- It has been rocky (redawakening.com)
- I don’t remember doing that…Or that! (strugglingwithbpd.wordpress.com)
- Cutting *Trigger* – Psychology and Mental Health Forum (psychforums.com)
- Am I Asking Too Much of a Friend? (my.psychologytoday.com)
- The Seduction of Self-Destruction (whatkizziedid.wordpress.com)
- Next Post (ednosramblings.wordpress.com)