Originally posted by Linkalicious
wooaahoho!!! Crazy with a butter knife huh? Cool, while you're at it...pass the toast.And next time use a spoon...it's dull......i'll hurt more!!! 😄
FFS Link, climb out of the cutlery drawer!!
Are you with me? Good. Now I can outline the way it really was. Should never have been, but was.......
About three days ago I found a very old face powder tub of mine that I had when I was about 15. It's got a screwtop lid, and another level beneath which the puff sits on. Just imagine my horror when I lifted the puff and laying oh so neatly beneath it were four razor blades. Blades that I had manually ripped from my razors and hidden in my powder tub.
I felt physically sick. At the fact that I went through so many motions, so much careful planning, all so I could carve myself up in order to make my world a better place. Not only had I done this, I had forgotten about it. My mind automatically erased my hiding the blades when I got myself out of the depression. I think it's true that your mind and memory can take on a life of it's own with regard to trauma.
Can I be brutally honest? Link, you'll probably think I'm nuts, but considering you never quite thought I was sane, I'm not too fussed. And BF, if you have nothing to say other than "lame", "sad" or "get over it", I'd rather you said nothing at all. Just a friendly request.
One of the most vivid memories I have of cutting myself is like watching a home video. Almost as if I am watching myself through someone else's eyes. I can recall all too well slicing my left arm 146 times and counting the gashes. To this day, I can't explain what made me sit and count them. The closest I can come to a reason is that perhaps I was, in some sick, deluded way, proud of my 'handiwork'. This is what makes other people assume it's attention seeking. But I can say truthfully that I told no-one about my antics for over a year, so I know that personally it was not for anyone else's benefit that I etched two inch long welts into my skin.
The one valid reason I still use to this day, to kind of justify to myself the reason behind it, is that it was, for me, pain transferral. If I had an aching heart, stinging pain in my arms made it abate. If I had a pounding head, watching myself bleed made it soften. I don't for one second expect you guys to understand, but I would appreciate a little empathy. Not just for me, but for everyone who has been through it, is going through it, or even knows someone close who does it.
I apologise now if my recollections have been a little too well described, but it was only for those who profess not to comprehend what goes through the distorted mind of a self harmer. I hope you can relate a little better now that I have let you into mine.
Night guys.