Recovery
Ever since my depression reached a certain level that made it impossible for me to laugh it off as general lack of happyness due to puberty and school stress, I knew that I would never have the strength to choose recovery.
Maybe it was the past year that made me adopt this mindset.
Two suicide attempts followed by engaging in self-injurious behaviour as bad as it has never been before. Sitting in my doctor´s office and getting my cuts bandaged while knewing I would rip them off as soon as I´m back home, trying to provoke an infection by all available means, of which death would hopefully be the consequence.
Honestly, I could cut my arm off and I would still think it´s not deep enough. My frustration about my unability to satisfy my inner pressure of harming myself as much as possible was really high at that point.
I remember talking to my therapist about self-injury, and I told him that my whole arm started to hurt because of my cuts. He asked me if they are infected, and I said something like "No. I don´t know.".
That was the last time we talked about this topic, and it´s good. From all the forms of self-injury I engaged in, cutting left me the most frustrated, and having to go through this range of feelings again would only fuel my general self-hate.
I haven´t cut in a while. The last time was in november 2014, I think.
Next is substance abuse. Walking around outside while fearing for my life because I thought the old ladies walking behind me are going to to kill me and hearing voices that where not real definately marks a new low in "How stupid and careless can I possibly be".
Another therapy session about how dangerous said behaviour can be.
I eventually stopped taking pills.
What came next in the long line of self-injurious behaviour can be read in my previous journal entries, but for now I´ll refer to it as "refusing food", something that doesn´t need any detailed explaination.
My point is, I can´t exist without harming myself in any way. Pretending to have control over myself and my actions is an old friend of mine that I spend every minute of my life with, and letting it go is something I can´t imagine to ever happen.
Not only did it cause me even more problems over the past year, it also made me neglect my friends and worry my family, with lying as a method to get away with what I do to myself and laugh it off during therapy sessions.
It´s my own fault, after all.
It just makes me incredibely sad and angry that I let myself become the person I am today, that I lacked the power to stop it when recovery was a vage option, and that my answer to everything was, is and will be self-injury.
Maybe it was the past year that made me adopt this mindset.
Two suicide attempts followed by engaging in self-injurious behaviour as bad as it has never been before. Sitting in my doctor´s office and getting my cuts bandaged while knewing I would rip them off as soon as I´m back home, trying to provoke an infection by all available means, of which death would hopefully be the consequence.
Honestly, I could cut my arm off and I would still think it´s not deep enough. My frustration about my unability to satisfy my inner pressure of harming myself as much as possible was really high at that point.
I remember talking to my therapist about self-injury, and I told him that my whole arm started to hurt because of my cuts. He asked me if they are infected, and I said something like "No. I don´t know.".
That was the last time we talked about this topic, and it´s good. From all the forms of self-injury I engaged in, cutting left me the most frustrated, and having to go through this range of feelings again would only fuel my general self-hate.
I haven´t cut in a while. The last time was in november 2014, I think.
Next is substance abuse. Walking around outside while fearing for my life because I thought the old ladies walking behind me are going to to kill me and hearing voices that where not real definately marks a new low in "How stupid and careless can I possibly be".
Another therapy session about how dangerous said behaviour can be.
I eventually stopped taking pills.
What came next in the long line of self-injurious behaviour can be read in my previous journal entries, but for now I´ll refer to it as "refusing food", something that doesn´t need any detailed explaination.
My point is, I can´t exist without harming myself in any way. Pretending to have control over myself and my actions is an old friend of mine that I spend every minute of my life with, and letting it go is something I can´t imagine to ever happen.
Not only did it cause me even more problems over the past year, it also made me neglect my friends and worry my family, with lying as a method to get away with what I do to myself and laugh it off during therapy sessions.
It´s my own fault, after all.
It just makes me incredibely sad and angry that I let myself become the person I am today, that I lacked the power to stop it when recovery was a vage option, and that my answer to everything was, is and will be self-injury.
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