Sunday, July 8, 2012
Yesterday I cut...Today I am a Skyscraper...
I cut myself for the first time yesterday since I got out of the hospital last September. 3 deep cuts along the inside to the outside of each thigh. I know how to cut myself so that I can feel the most pain with as little blood as possible. As long as you don’t cut along an artery or vein, the blood will clot up and down each cut in thick bubbles. This adds to the release somehow…watching the blood clot. Sometimes I fantasize about what would happen if I cut along the artery. How long would I be able to watch the blood flow before my mind shuts down and I pass out. Ironically I don’t want to know what it feels like to die. I really don't want to die.... I just want the physical pain to take away the much deeper pain that can feel like fire on my skin.
I purposefully avoided my wrists and arms this time because I was thinking that I don’t want the scars to show as I wear a lot of summer dresses. I did not have the foresight to realize that this pretty much excludes me from being able to be in a bathing suit for the remainder of the summer. Maybe subconsciously I was aware of that, however, as I have been having horrible self image thoughts. Looking at myself in the mirror has become almost as unbearable as any of the emotional scars.
I underestimated how I would be able to handle the realization that my parents have no interest in starting over. They are done dealing with me. Apparently, I have put them through so much throughout my lifetime that there are no more chances. It is a concept that I am having trouble contending with. “Splitting” is another common trait with BPD. One only sees things in black and white. You are either all good or all bad. You either love me or hate me and I either love you or hate you. I don’t know how to just accept that my parents can love me but not want to ever have a relationship with me. It doesn’t compute and it literally makes my mind race out of control. I want to scream “I HATE YOU” for giving up on me, while at the same time I want to beg them to hold me, stroke my hair, tell me everything is going to be all right and that they love me. It is an internal fight that is almost unbearable to deal with…thus the cutting. I just want the "record player" inside of my head to stop. The one repeating over and over just how much I do not matter... I just want to be allowed to “hate” them, to “hate” myself, to “hate” everyone.
God, I’m scared….how am I going to handle being alone. Who is ever going to love me again? Is anyone going to love me? Has anyone ever loved me? Am I just unlovable? If my own parents won’t talk to me, won’t involve themselves in my therapy, won’t accept that there is anything medically wrong with me, that just maybe I do have impulsive behavior that I can't control, that just maybe I didn't hurt them on purpose, then how can I expect anyone else to accept that??? Can I be cured? Can I beat this? These are the questions that "scream" at me in the dark.
I feel guilty for writing this Blog. I feel guilty for being so public about everything. I am torn about what I "think" people tell my parents about me. Do they say I am using this illness as an excuse? Do they doubt my diagnosis? Am I hurting myself by being so public? Who will hire me? Am I hurting my children? Do I even have ANY idea what I am talking about. How do I convince anyone that I am not "crazy", when there are days like yesterday, that I can't even convince myself...
Breathe.........So, today is a new day and I will "start" over again... I will be strong. I will not let my illness, any illness define me or hinder me. I. CAN. DO. THIS.
I'm a Skyscraper. Today I'm a Skyscraper.
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