Spanners. Why are they always in the works?

I have been doing OK since the last post; I got over the first week in March and didn't self harm which is the first time that has ever happened. I have to be proud of myself for that but the emotional breakdown was not pretty; I was, and still am, a complete emotional wreck. I like to keep that part of me hidden away because I don't want to appear weak or powerless; I don't want people to realise I remain completely, and utterly, at the mercy of my daemons. I make everything worse by keeping my cards too close to my chest and get -- what appears to be -- inordinately angry/upset at things that don't really matter. People must look at me and assume I'm a huge drama queen, which is my own fault but I get too caught up in the moment to care.

I am finding it hard to vocalise my true thoughts and feelings at the moment as they are all over the place; I'm confused, conflicted and disconnected. I have been plunged into a world of darkness and chaos and for some reason I am at home here; I enjoy this misery and enjoy having VICTIM tattooed on my forehead. That's a problem I thought I had overcame a few years back but it seems as though the victim complex is slowly creeping its way back into my life.

After a conversation I had with someone, I realised my responses to what they were saying were all about me. As much as the issues being discussed involved and concerned me they werent about me. This realisation genuinely terrified me; I hate the person I am when I make myself the victim. I tend to make every ones world revolve around me and people will step on eggshells as a result of not wanting to offend or hurt me. It isn't a nice trait to have and I need to nip this in the bud or I will spiral and end up in hospital wondering why no one cares about what I'm going through or how I feel. I cant let myself get to into that stage again, I need to 'man-up' and get a grip of my behaviour.

I have to go back to the drawing board and get my feelings and thoughts in order, I need to stop letting her win and start listening to rationality. I need to tell bitchface I wont be at her beck and call anymore and make it clear I will beat this. I need to stop throwing spanners in the works for shits and giggles and need to get some bloody sleep.

All of the above, my friends, is easier said than done.

There is no reason to hide. (May trigger)

Yes, its that time of year folks; it's time for healthy sleeping patterns to be thrown out the window along with any coping methods and positive thought. I can see them lying in a heap in the garden but I don't have the strength to go down and fetch them. No matter how far forward I am with my recovery the first few weeks in March seem to have this hold over me, it almost seems as though self harm has one week in which to make me revert back to her wicked ways and throws everything she has at me; my pandoras box is now open.

This is my 8th year of self harm and, my god, its tough. All I want to do is to stay inside, talk to no one and paint my skin a pretty shade of red. The urge to cut myself is greater in these weeks and I find myself using the same old excuses: one slip up wont hurt anyone. Just one small cut, small enough to not 'count'. Just enough so it will bleed, nothing more...

I've slipped back to my old ways of shutting myself away from the outside world and as a result making myself feel extremely lonely. I am trying to override what appears to be my default setting when I feel like this but I'm struggling with it. I don't want to go out for fear of people judging or making fun of me because I'm sure they know I'm a wreck and can't cope. I find myself running from the people that will listen into the arms of something I can't, and should never, trust again.

I know when my control over my thoughts and feeling has slipped back to her when my dreams are affected; Ive been dreaming about self-harm since the 26th of February and that let me know I was coming up for a rough few weeks. Dreaming about it is one of my biggest triggers for this reason: you experience it, feel it and are able to get the same sense of 'release' from it but you wake up and realise it didnt actually happen. One of two things happens to me at this point, I get so severely triggered I become over-emotional and cut in a 'panic' and end up with stitches or the urge becomes so strong I cut in a more controlled manner.

I have two options here: I can go back down the road I've just came from or I can keep going. One is far more comforting and the other is hard work. One has the comfort blanket but the other has freedom. Easy choice?

Growing up

In the middle of my darkest self-harm days I never envisaged I would live past 21; if I hadn't killed myself by then I was sure to have done something so reckless it would have killed me anyway. I had no regard for my own life or how my death would affect people around me. It terrifies me to think I was, not only capable of thoughts so dark but able to pass them off as everyday feelings; I would convince myself everyone must have felt like that at some point in their adolescence and I wasn't the only one to do so. Soon I realised it wasn't normal to hoard these thoughts as everyone around me seemed to be moving on, growing up, having fun and I was stuck in what felt like a bog of negativity, sadness and sorrow.

I often wonder what would have happened to me if I had remained trapped in that spiral of self destruction; would I be dead or just another screw-up who doesn't care for anyone or anything except for another fix of their chosen poison?That petrifies me, I get shivers thinking about it -- some pangs of guilt, pity and to an extent nostalgia creep into my head. I feel guilty by virtue of not taking other people into account back then, pity as a result of my, now, grown up mind looking back on what feels like a helpless girl and nostalgia because (for the last 7 years) its all I've known. I continue to slip back into my old ways without even realising of it as it comes so naturally to me. Sometimes I need people 'outside the box' to tell me I'm reversing myself into a black hole that I can never get out of. I do have outside-the-box thinkers around me and I would like to take this opportunity to thank them for everything they have done and to let them know I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for them.

Now, I am fast closing in on my 21st birthday and as a result of support networks, hard graft and positive thought I've got my life into a rather sweet spot; new hopes, dreams and aspirations are flooding my head and for once I can do something about them. I can now start to move forward and make the most of my life. By 'moving forward' I really don't mean by much but I couldn't care less at the minute, even a small step makes me feel like BFG in my world.

Weight loss: huge impact on body, no impact on mind?

I was reading a fantastic article on weight loss and how it can cause people to change completely, it made me think about the changes in me over the last few months. I was told by my leader the change in physical appearance would boost my confidence, make me happier and maybe bring out aspects of my personality I never knew I had. Well, I didn't know how right she was until recently. Before the weight loss I never thought, for even a second, I would turn into the shallow person I am now.

If going from a big to an average size causes a huge physical strain on the body as it tries to re-adjust itself to its new layout, does the mind go through a similar process? The article suggested that the mind can go through huge changes during a weight loss programme and it can be so extreme that close family members and friends would comment on how different the person is now the weight is off. My mind has went through a huge transition and now I don't feel like myself anymore, in fact I feel like a shadow of my former self and would give anything to have her back.

During my weight loss I went though many emotional checkpoints: seeing the first pounds come off, having a bad week and wasting previous efforts, wanting to give up, getting back in the saddle, drawing lines in the sand, reaching targets etc etc. The list is endless however I never thought I would go through a small personality transplant as well. I have been making comments and jokes I would have never made as a fat person because I know how horribly hurtful it is but that, in itself, is not reason enough for me to stop. Since when did I act like that? When did I decide to break my moral compass and guide myself? It runss deeper than poking fun at other people, like I said previously, I have found myself becoming extremely shallow and egotistical.

Maybe I'm trying to make up for all those years I couldn't say horrible things or am I getting all the anger,frustration and hurt at the people who did say things to me out? Whatever explanation is correct, I'm playing a dangerous game right now and it has already damaged the people I love the most. Remember, the grass is not always greener on the other side and don't throw away everything you love for a fleeting thought.

Soul searching: The act of facing one's inmost self with courage, determined to bring every ulterior thought, emotion, and motive to light.

I’ve done a lot of ‘soul searching’ recently (yes, that old cliché) but I never thought for a second it would do any good. Oh how wrong I was! I always had an image of people who soul search: American, part of a cult or some organisation that promises salvation and have huge tinted glasses. I soon realised I didn’t tick any of the boxes of the stereotypical Yankee nut-case but I thought I would give it a bash anyway.

I didn’t really know how to start or what to do; sit myself down in a quiet room and just think or do I write thoughts, aspirations and goals down? I done none of the above, I didn’t even realise I was searching the darkest corner of my soul until I was right there in the middle of it wondering what the hell I should do next. Memories of mistakes I’ve made flooded my mind and began to push me backwards and before I knew it I felt like an insecure woman with no self confidence.

After the initial phase of crying hysterically, it became clear that the things in the past I held onto were a detriment to both me and my recovery. I had never really thought about ‘letting go’ of this baggage before; I think I just accepted it was there and never had the desire, or will, to throw it away. It is pointless in holding onto painful memories you wish you could change because, no matter how much you wish it had turned out different, there is nothing you can do about it now.

I decided not to dwell on the negative aspects (for once) of this one bad day out of seven and write down all the things I wanted to achieve or wanted to be. It was difficult to start with however as I got about half way though my pen couldn’t write fast enough; I realised most of the things on the list I could achieve quite easily with a little bit of confidence. Confidence is a wonderful thing, who could have predicted that something so trivial could have you on top of the world one day then make you want to stay in bed forever the next? A lot of my problems can be attributed to lack of self confidence and it is time to change that. I have no idea how to do it or where to start but I’ll never know unless I try.

I feel quite positive about things now; it seems like things might be looking up in the recovery department - it’s been a long time coming and I will savour every minute of it.

My Pandoras Box

Frustration: a feeling of dissatisfaction, often accompanied by anxiety or depression, resulting from unfulfilled needs or unresolved problems.


I get really frustrated at this part of recovery; the medication has kicked in and has now made me feel like the The Empty Child from Dr Who. It makes me feel hollow, like there is no substance behind my existence and I will never become anything other than a container for medication or a huge piece of paper to draw on with something excessively sharp. It tears me in two, it makes me feel like I will forever be in the grip of something I cannot control; the medication or self harm.

In these times of unrest I usually ride it out for a few days and then give up. I have been at this point many times before and I always sided with the known rather than the unknown. I've never had the strength to carry on with recovery and never wanted to if I'm honest. I have such a strong desire to recoil back to my old ways and live my life from there. I have to remind myself that I wont have much of a life in length or in virtue because demons I faced to get out of that rut are still there, waiting to consume my happiest thoughts and turn them sour.

Maybe its my comfort blanket, I have let it keep me safe for so long that I don't want to, or feel right living without it. It has destroyed me from the inside out on many occasions and all I want to do is let it ruin me again. I have an attachment to it that only a mother should have with a child; I shouldn't have this bond or love for something so inherently evil but there is something in the darkness that makes me want to succumb it again and again.

These thoughts are not unfamiliar and I need the strength to be able to lock them away in a box that should never be opened again. I fear the act of vanquishing them will only trouble me more because what mother could stand to hear their child screaming to be let go and do nothing?

Hold me now, I'm 6 feet from the edge and I'm thinking...

Trigger is my word of the day as a result of irrational thoughts running around my head like insane shoppers on boxing day running into the Next sale. It often seems like a struggle to be 'normal' these days, or to even function like an average human being. My recovery has hit a brick wall for the time being and I have no idea why; I look at my scars and all I want to do is create more; my body is a canvas to which I can voice all my angst, hurt and pain onto with unconventional tools. The problem being I can't bring myself to do it again, which adds to this frustration and keeps me the rut I am now stuck in.

I havent harmed in a long time now but that doesnt make the impulses disappear, I feel it more now than I ever have. The throught of the rush and the release makes me feel both sick and ecstatic at the same time. The only thing I can relate it to is when you are heading to the top of the most terrifying roller coaster you have ever dared to go on. You know there is no turning back, your stomach is in knots, your heart is pounding and you know that drop is coming, its coming soon but are you ready for the fall? Are you ready to let go and have the most intense experience of your life?

I wish it was as easy as riding a roller coaster, I wish there were no repercussions, no addictive qualities to it and most of all, no dissapontments that make you want to do it all over again. It's about over-coming the urge isnt it? Its about making sure you know the disadvantages of this act outweigh any good that may come from it . Moments of clarity seem to break through this twisted reality and tell me its all in my head, tell me I need to be stronger and face the demons and vanquish them. I wish I could. God damn I wish I could.