A few years ago (from my journal)....
Sometimes when I am at work or anywhere really & I can not concentrate at what I'm doing I'll cut myself. Other times I'll refocus and continue working. So why do I sometimes cut while other times I don't? I have to be able to rationalize cutting myself. I think about it every time but if there's not a good enough reason to do it I won't.
Sometimes all I can think about is cutting myself. Two weeks ago up in Boston all I could think about when we were out was when could I get to the bathroom to cut myself and/or when are we going to head back to the hotel so I can really cut myself. In some sick way I enjoy inflicting pain on myself.
In high school, college, and after college I use to make myself throw up after coming home from a night of drinking. Deep down I hate drinking and just want it out of me, once I'm alone. I don't like drinking for numerous reasons. I don't like the taste, I don't like who I become, etc... I pretty much drink to be social and feel accepted by my friends and others, I suppose. Anyways, since I've started cutting again I find myself coming home after drinking and cutting myself instead of throwing up. On the other hand, the whole point of me throwing up was to get as much of the alcohol out of my system. So now it as if when the blood is flowing from a cut, i'm getting rid of the alcohol...so why have I switched from one to the other?
There are times at night when I lay on the couch, put a sad, depressing movie on (or a blood gushing action movie), grab a towel, razor blade, and start to think/analyze my life. I'll think for a while, trying to find reasons to cut. After all on the surface there are no reasons for me to cut. As the sad sce
nes or action scenes develop I usually will start to cut with or without a reason. These first cuts are shallow and not much blood comes out. Then I get mad at myself because I didn't go very deep. I'll call myself some names like you're weak, you can't handle it, loser, etc... After the name calling I'll cut again this time much deeper and the blood usually flows down my arm onto the towel. I'll do this a few more times and then I'll go to bed. When all of this is going on they'll be times when my thoughts are extreme. I know deep down inside I don't want to die and would never kill myself but they are times i feel like I want to die or just disappear. Having a razor blade in my hand when these kind of thoughts surface, scares the living daylights out of me. So what are these wonderful wholesome thoughts??? I hate my life; no one knows me; no one cares about me; if I killed myself no one would care, they would just go on with their everyday life like I never existed; and my favorites I have no friends, I'm never going to be married, and I'm going to die alone so why not sped up the process. I know this may sound pathetic, sad, selfish, and self-centered but it's the truth. I just need to get everything out in writing that is the truth not the lies I tell everyday.
Right now I'm about to land in Minnesota and I want to cut myself. Two reasons I suppose I'm going to have to be social and once I get to the hotel & meet people I'm not going to have the opportunity to do it as much. Basically I just want to cut. It's not going to be stressful getting to the hotel from the airport or meeting people. I've done this many times before without cutting, maybe I'm just obsessed with it.
I did it. I cut my leg instead of my arm. It a felt good cutting a different place on my body. In order to start wearing short sleeves again I've decided to stop cutting on my arm. It's hard though because I don't think cutting on my leg will draw as much blood, do as much damage, or give me as much satisfaction. Then there's the location on my leg, if I put it down low then I'll have to shave over or around it.
Is it bad to want to feel pain? The deepest sorrow? Want the worst tragedies to happen to my family and me? The majority of my dreams at night are of hurtful images. Some are of me being dead and the whole day of the funeral, while others are of my parents and/or grandparents being killed in various different ways & the funeral that follows. The majority are of my mother dying. Then they are the more disturbing ones of me being beaten by men, and then raped; or me killing another person. Except for the last one, all of these have to do with my emotions and how I would feel or react to the situation. I will say though that every time I wake up from any of these dreams the urge to cut is absent.
Looking further back to my adolescent days, I believe I had to cut myself during some period of middle school or high school. I mean where else would I have gotten the idea from during college. I wish I could remember if I did. I can't hardly remember any of my childhood. It's weird saying childhood because I don't feel as though I'm an adult yet. Half of the childhood stories I tell people, "when I was a child...", I don't remember; instead I've memorized these stories that other people have told me happened. Pretty much every bad thing I have done I remember where as any good thing that has happened to me I don't remember. I remember hitting my ankle with a hammer in middle school, getting into a fight in middle school, getting kicked off the Regional ODP team when I was a freshman in high school, getting drunk & blacking out in front of my mother and her friends the summer before eighth grade, crying myself to sleep tons of times my senior year of high school, and the list goes on and on... Maybe I didn't cut myself before college but why not? I felt worse then than I do now. I guess back then I would cry and the tears would release my stress where as now I never cry. I try to cry and nothing happens. This may be why I started cutting again. I want to feel so much outer pain I can't stand it. I never cry but I have to focus on the pain I just inflicted instead of the emotions running wildly inside me.
In college, I started to cut to relief pain and to stop crying. I was crying at the drop of a dime and way too much. I could be in a crowd of people, in class, at practice, or with a group of friends and would start to get watery eyes for no reason. I would have to concentrate on not breaking down in front of people so hard, I would zone out on what was going on in my surroundings. It wasn't a dissociative thing like the books I'm reading talk about, instead it was just concentrating on not crying and not letting all my thoughts consume me while people were around.
About a before month I started to cut again, I was hitting myself with a metal bat to try and give myself bruises. It's so hard to get a bruise to form when you're trying to create i
t. I swear when I was playing soccer I would get bruises by the simplest of actions. It would hurt so bad every time I hit myself with the bat, or fist occasionally, but I never could see a bruise. After constant hitting and nothing happening I resorted to what I knew would give me the best results...cutting. Why did I start hitting myself? I haven't a clue, boredom possibly, being annoyed with myself, or thought it was a suitable punishment. Maybe I just wanted to see how much pain I could take, and/or to what extent it would take for a bruise to form.
I had a dream last night that was as close to a nightmare as it gets. I dreamt my father was killed while he was working on the other coast this week. He was driving to work, another car lost control of their vehicle, hit my dad's jeep with direct impact on the driver's side, which caused his vehicle to flip several times. I got the call from my mom and told her to head to the other coast and I would stay back until I had someone to watch the dogs. I called a friend, told her what happened in a calm, nonchalant tone, and asked her to take care of the dogs & grab the family address book. Magically a few moments later the address book was in my hand, this is a dream, and I started to make the calls. Flipping through the book though it was only family and work that I ended up calling. The only people I called for him outside of work and family was the foursome of golf buddies he plays with. No one else. This whole time I never cried, I was calm like it was no big deal, an everyday occurrence.
I'm at a CPE in Minnesota now and when I get back on Friday I'm suppose to go out for a friend's birthday. The plan was to go out and each get a tattoo. I want to get a couple of tattoos but so far haven't worked up the courage to do it. Everyone hates where I want one of the tattoos. I want it on my wrist, in a location where if I wear a watch it will be covered up. I can't imagine a better place on my body. I want it in a place where I can see it everyday. I want "x3" or times three, with the "x" having a roman letter look and the three engulfing the "x". I believe so many things happen in threes, the good and the bad. Most people think it only relates to the bad things but I believe it goes both ways. So many people focus on the bad things in life, they don't realize when good things happen to them (me being one of these people). The other tattoo I want to get is a saying from a Tracy Chapman song, "If These Are The Things". I live by this saying because if it's not true then why am I still here? "Dreams are what life's worth living for". I want the tattoo in some cool script. Other than these two tattoos, the only other one I may possibly want is a window. A window which reminds me to not just look outside the window as life passes me by but to be part of the world.
There are so many places I want to go and see. Most of the places are in so called dangerous places, so they say. What's wrong with wanting to go to Nigeria or Egypt? There are other safer places I want to go like New Zealand, Australia, tons of European countries, Alaska, Hawaii, etc... The only thing that bothers me is when I imagine going to all of these places, I'm always by myself. I'm never able to enjoy the experience with someone. Two of the last three times I went to Europe I went alone. Of course I visited friends once I got there. One of the times I stop in England on the way back for three days by myself. I saw some sites, a broadway, and did some shopping. Doing all these things is great but sucks doing them alone and not having anyone to share the moments with. I could have had my mom tag along but seriously when am I going to break free from my parents.
Now for one of my major downfalls, my weight. Based on my height and a decent BMI chart, I should weigh about 120 lbs. This is so not the case, instead let's try 160 lbs. I need to lose 40 lbs. I want to be able to lose it in a couple of months but I know this is not realistic and unhealthy. I hate looking this way, but I don't have the heart or will to seriously start working out. It's just because I have had to workout everyday for the past 11+ years without a choice. I mean I did have a choice of course but it just didn't seem like it. In order to play soccer and be good, I had to workout daily and stay in-shape. Once I finished playing soccer, I didn't want to do anything related to exercise, except for the occasional bike ride, climb, or water ski. I hate the way I look, I am so fat. It's ridiculous how much I gained in one and half years. My pant size went from a four to between a six and a ten. Also, for work I've started buying large shirts instead of small or mediums. I'm sick of looking this way and people saying comments about my weight. I know I'm overweight right now, so I don't need other people telling me this too. I start exercising and eating right for about a week or so and then everything falls apart. I can't keep it up, it's like it's too difficult and just can't handle it. I know it's not that hard because I've had to workout and I know I can do it. I guess it might be because before I would workout to maintain my shape and to stay fit where as now I'm trying to lose weight and get into shape. It's so discouraging when I workout and I don't lose any weight. I get unmotivated and quit, which makes me even more mad. I haven't been water skiing or boating in so long because of the way I look. This also means my tan has gone down the drain, so so sad. My legs are huge right now; I wish I could have muscle removed from my legs. Seriously my legs are massive, way too big for a girls body. Enough about this...
Last night before dinner I cut myself several times on my thigh. I was reading the book Cutting and the girl I am rooming with was down swimming. Everything just fell into place, and cutting just felt like the right thing to do. The only problem with cutting on my leg is I have to dress the cut afterwards really good, since my clothes have to go back on. How bad would it be if the bandage fell off and I started bleeding on/through my pants. I would be so embarrassed if someone saw!
(And yes all pictures were taken by the blogger)
