The shinny metal of the blade as it slices through my arm, pulling it back with beads of red dripping from the once unused razor blade. Pain, out of my head and now on my arm. Agony that was once in my mind has been transferred to some part of my body. At that point I don't know if I'm in heaven or if it's hell, but where ever I am it feels so damn good.
That's how I felt for the longest time when it came to cutting myself. I thought I was in heaven. I could zone out for hours on end, blood running down my arms and not have a care in the world that my son was sitting across the room from me. I went on like that for years and years. I thought just because I was hurting inside, that I had to hurt on the outside. I thought just because my mind was in hell so should the rest of me be.
It didn't take someone else hurting me for me to cut, it simply took me hurting me to self mutilate and to this day that's all I need is that little voice inside of me saying, "do it" and I cut. I used to think it had to do with everyone else. Then I began to realize it was just a way for me to hide the mental pain I was having at the time and focus it elsewhere. Other things I do to self harm (besides mentally of course); tattoos, chewing the skin around my fingers till it bleeds, pulling chunks of my toe or finger nails off, digging sores till they don't heal or till they continuously bleed, and pulling my hair. There are a few other ways, but I think these are the easiest to do and hide as everyone associates them with "nervous habits". Little do they know. LOL
I still self mutilate, just not as bad as I used to. I previously cut my arms 50-100 times a day, every few days. I would mutilate myself like I would a piece of meat at work. No that doesn't make self mutilating right, but it doesn't take as much as it used to, to want to self mutilate and for that I am thankful. I have however started again after a stopping period of 3 years. Now I cut on my belly. I do that because no matter how much weight I lose I still feel fat. Like now, due to surgery in 2007 my belly didn't heal right so I have a pregnant look about me. I want to cut it right off. I dream about needing to go to the hospital because I have tried cutting off this hump. I hate myself for it.
Who do I blame for all of this? Bipolar! It's a mean selfish pig! Bipolar takes what it wants, when it wants and doesn't worry about the choices it makes. Before I was diagnosed, I wouldn't have even have thought like this, now would I have even cut. I had other ways to hide my pain and suffering; drugs and alcohol were my pain away from pain.
Enough for tonight.
Ok, on to my "grateful" things....
1) I am grateful for the fact I spent the day without needing to sleep.
2) I'm grateful for my sister for sending me pictures of my Sweet Pea.
3) I'm grateful for finding the strength to clean my mom's basement.
4) I'm grateful for finding the Facing Us website.
5) I'm grateful for getting to play card tonight with my mom.
and one more tonight
6) I'm grateful that Grammy got out of the hospital and into a rehab center.
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