IT is getting worse. I'M getting better. [Archive]

LoveMe_HateMe

March 1st, 2011, 04:52 PM

Huh. Funny how everyone says I'm getting better, that I look happier, that I'm getting out more. Guess that goes to show how looks can be deceiving, and how good of an actor I've become.

I've been cutting more. Yeah, I hate it but.... It makes me better. It makes me able to function again. Makes me, me again. I missed the old me. The pain, the blood, it allows me to function, it allows all the bad things to go away, so I'm calm. And happy. Its something I can rely on. People. Ha. People... They just stab you in the back... Cutting doesn't let you down. It makes everything go away for a while, lets the fucking thoughts and memories disappear.

I know its not good for me, I am slowing going downhill. But I can't let anyone know how bad I'm becoming. I don't want them to worry, I want them to think I'm getting better....

I have 45 400mg Ibuprofen next to me... Since I've got them.... Urgh. Think you know where this is going...

Friends where talking about Self Harming the other day, and I found out one of my friends used to do it.... But yeah, it didn't help that while they were talking about it, one of them had a very, very sharp craft knife in their hand... Didn't help me much. And later that day I nearly went to the college toilets to cut.... I really am getting worse. >.<

And please, if you're reading this and you haven't started cutting or self harming or whatever... please don't start. It's not a good way of life. It's not good having to rely on getting fucking scars to be happy. There's other ways out there, better ways of getting help. Self harming isn't one of them. So, I'm begging you not to start. Not even the tiniest cut you think wont make a difference. I was there once, I wish someone was there for me, someone telling me not to do it. It really isn't worth the effort, and pain.

jack straw

March 3rd, 2011, 06:05 PM

We're people too, ya know. not all people are out to let you down. I used to cut. Didnt do it for long but when I did it I did it deep and nasty. hell I even poured salt in it once, the pain was mindnumbing. But it didnt make me me. people saw there was something different about me, that I was more alert and back on my feet again, but they noticed my darker and more depressing side as well. It wasnt who I really was, but the pain comming out through my emotions. one day I cut myself, actually by accident, on a camping trip. it was deep. really deep. I tried to hide it. but when blue jeans begin to turn purple, its not easy to hide. One of the people on the trip was a USMC Medic, and if it wasnt for him I might have died. I had passed out, and he saved me. After spending a night in the hospital, I spent the next few days at home, in a miserable depression. the pain in my leg was unbearable, not a sharp pain but the pulsing, throbbing pain of a serious injury. I was too depressed to cut, to move really. and I just wanted to die. Nobody knew I cut (except maybe that medic and the people at the hospital, who could have seen the scars but didnt say anything), and everybody was really worried for me. One morning I woke up, and just stared at the celing, asking myself what happened to the happy kid I had been as a child. What happened to those dreams and ambitions of my earlier years? I cried. and cried. and cried. hours later, I finally sat up and, still feeling extremely weak, decided I was gonna take a walk. getting dressed, made it down stairs and sat in the chair by the door. on the wall was a picture of me with my whole family, on the day I joined boy scouts. I had the biggest smile on my face, but for the life of me I couldnt remember why I was so happy. pulling myself foward I got to the door and headed outside. making it to the corner, I was already seriously doubting the idea but I kept going. On the corner was an old lady, whom I haddnt seen in months. We had been close when I was really young, and she was really happy to see me. She was having alot of trouble getting her groceries to her door, and, just out of habit, I helped her. feeling exhausted as I brought the last bag in, after some small talk, I went to leave when she said "sean, whats wrong?" "just tired" I replied. She asked again. I came up with some bullshit answer, and she definatley saw right through it. Dont know what she thought, or how she knew something was really wrong, but she was the first person who really showed an intrest in me for a while. And she told me how often people just walk by when she obviously needs help, how I am the only person who actually helps her. how much it brightens her day when she sees me. I was stunned. Somebody whom I really didnt know very well cared so much about me. I felt revived. after some more small talk, I left and went home. dug my cutting knife out of my draw, with some dried blood still there, where the handle meets the blade. I jammed it into the wood by my closet, where I kept all my camping gear. went back down stairs and decided I was gonna get back in shape, and do what I did best; help those who needed it. I did a pushup and collapsed in exhaustion. Telling that pessimestic voice in my head, saying I couldnt do it, that it mearly was a challenge, I got back up and did another. and another. every day. It was a new kind of pain, a sore pain, but one of knowing I had done something productive. I kept at it. doing all kinds of exercises. I became happy again, from helping the old lady down the street, I begain to do more and even went so far as to organize my own very sucessful food and clothing drives for the needy. It is my calling, I feel, to help others.

I personally dont know the pain your in, what it is, why or where it comes from but I do know that its not helping you. I beg you, to look at your life from the eyes of your childhood. no matter how good or shitty it was, there was at some point a thing which consistantly made you happy. I am almost certian it was not cutting yourself. from watching birds on sunny days to painting pictures of the shadows of the rain, there must be something which gives you hope. Do what gives you hope and happyness. it saved me. I probably would have killed myself if it wasnt for the lady down the road. You arent getting better. Your becomming a better liar, a better actress, a better hider, but your not healing. It helps when it hurts, but when the physical pain is gone, the emotional pain is back. You admit that your getting worse, there is that guilt there. the more you do it the worse youll get. Please, stop the pain. Dont hang out with other people who hurt themselves for awhile. Leave those friends behind, and force yourself to do what used to bring you happiness. Push yourself to get out, and enjoy yourself. It sound stupid, forcing yourself to enjoy yourself but right now, in that haze of cutting, nothing seems as much fun as it should be. Until you do it. The first few weeks will be tough, there were many times I looked at that knife on the wall and wanted to grab it, for just one more cut. just one last time. then I saw the blood on the blade and stopped myself. I wasnt gonna go back. But for the past almost year now I have looked at that knife every day with a sense of accomplisment from comming from where I was to where I am now. I beg you, to not continue this distructive abuse but rather take up something else, another less distructive hobby. Please.

Please, if you ever want to talk, send me a message. I'm always available for somebody who needs it. Hell, thats what got me through my dark times.