I was out today and I found myself searching for a razor-blade in my bag. I used to have one on me at all times. Used to. I have no idea when I stopped. To be honest I am doing quite well. I am exercising regularly, am trying to get back into a proper sleep rhythm and I am reading, playing the piano and consuming self-improvement content. But this does not change the fact that I would like to cut myself.
I don’t even know if I could put a blade against my skin anymore. Press down until the blood starts filling up the cut. The smell of rubbing alcohol. Feeling guilty for only that one thing: hurting myself. Feeling emotions only about that one thing. Rendering myself psychologically unstable and hence not responsible for anything. I could do it. Or could I?
I have not cut myself for about 16 months. Some might want to celebrate that. I definitely don’t. I do not feel like that is progress. I know it is. But it does not feel like it. Why have I not cut? I don’t know. In part probably because in these 16 months I have become a runner. And I do not want to turn against my legs. They are what keep me running. And concealing cuts on your forearms is quite unpractical in summer. But in winter? Why did I not cut then? I do not know the answer to that. I do know however that there has always been a temptation. I wanted to cut. I don’t know how often. Sometimes it is worse than others. Some nights I feel “only” bad, without wanting to hurt myself. Others I want to hurt myself without any particular reason.
I do still feel that way. And it seems more and more likely that it will never change. There is a good reason I am still taking natural anti-depressants. Sometimes I wonder if my self-harm was just another sign of my immaturity, because I have not practiced it in such a long time. And then I go on thinking I should proof that it wasn’t, by just hurt myself some more.
This whole kind of thinking is not something that shows. I doubt there is more than one person who might have a remote idea of what is going on. And I was not aware of it for a long time as well. I always had my down nights. I always had times when I felt like hurting myself. But the fact that I had not been acting on it probably made me think I was okay. And made everyone else think the same. I am considering going into full self-destruction mode and hiding it. Just to see if anyone notices. Obviously I won’t do that. I do not have the strength, the gut or the will to do it. See? For either way I choose I cannot win.
Some might say it is time for some therapy. But then again: according to my last therapist I am a “perfectly healthy young woman, with some issues getting used to things”. And I haven’t hurt myself, so it cannot be too bad, can it? And when everything else fails there is one critical fact that will keep me out of therapy: I do not want to get into therapy. And we all know that someone who doesn’t want to see a therapist will likely not benefit from it either. So I will not be doing that.
I do not have a plan on how to move on. When it comes to self-harm, I do not have a goal. I don’t want to make it through this year without hurting myself. I do not want to reduce how much I think about it. And I do not plan on fighting it in any way. I will take it as it comes. And when I get overwhelmed by the desire to hurt myself I will. Unwelcome thoughts have a tendency to only gain more power the more we fight them. So I don’t fight them. I am also considering hurting myself just to get it over with. But cutting is an addiction. There is a good chance that it will not be just that one time.
I always say I want to be happy, healthy and energetic. But sometimes, especially at night the darkness takes over. And the best thing I can do in these situations is to get myself and my darkness into bed. No one knows. And all of us have some darkness to fight. So what does it matter? What does it matter if I hurt myself? What does it matter if I don’t?