‘In, truth, you like the pain. You like it because you believe you deserve it.’
so much truth. I spent my afternoon in the local clinic’s office getting stitches on my thigh. again. I really have no idea what to do at this point. cutting is my only release. and I know it’s not healthy. I pray my children never ever attempt this. though it works… ultimately it won’t. in the end, the wounds on my heart will remain.. you cant heal wounds by making new ones. and while that is easy to say- it is not easy (for me) to follow. I need help. but I don’t know what kind. part of me wants to go back to the hospital but it hasn’t worked the other four times- why would it work now? maybe they could send me to a new hospital. but they won’t. i’m just going to sit on this huge ball of depressive pain and cross my fingers for better days to come.
it feels like a waiting game. I’ve never been a patient person.. this game is stupid.
two weeks ago I self injured and received stitches because of it… I’ve now had stitches five more times. ranging from 6 and 32 stitches each. i’m not sure what i’m hoping to accomplish by such severe cuts… I just know I want the pain to stop. I didn’t do it to get back at somebody . or because I wanted attention. I didn’t do it to make a statement. I did it because sometimes the emotional fog & pain in my head is so intense.. the only way to get rid of it is to cut it out. now, i’m sure there are much more healthy coping mechanisms out there- but I just know what works for me (unfortunately).
the first two times I SI’d (self injured), I went to the ER for them to stitch me up. the third time though, I went to Immediate Care Center. mainly because I was afraid after the third time, the ER would make me go for inpatient treatment. marc sewed me up (30+ stitches) & didn’t send me the hospital but made me promise I wouldn’t cut for two days. and something inside me clicked. two days. not forever. not just today because then I would be focused on tomorrow’s self harm.. but ‘two days’… two days might work. I just need to get through today and tomorrow. I might be able to do this.
every day is a battle that I really don’t feel like facing. each morning I have to look myself in the mirror and say. ‘two days, aimee. not forever. just 2 days. you got this.’ and most days I do got this. but not every day. and that’s okay- because i’m trying. trying so very hard. & hopefully today will be day two for me… or I will start over tomorrow. either way- i’m gonna keep fighting.
Sunday was a hard day for me. we asked my grandparents for a loan so that we could purchase a larger home… the answer was no. so, being in the extreme mode i am in currently, i felt completely hopeless. i felt like our family of six would always be in this three bedroom home. it’s so crowded… and my eldest daughter (8) deserves her own space. i wish i could give them everything– i want to give them the world! but i can’t. and i felt like a terrible mother since i couldn’t provide a larger home for us- one with a backyard for the kids to play in. one with a garden in the front… and a white picket fence.
since i couldn’t provide the home, i cut. and i cut deep. and then i realized i needed help. i drove myself to the hospital… shaking the whole way there. due to my history, i was moved to the 5150 area of the ER and everything was taken from me (including my-gasp- phone). && after about three hours, i finally received my sutures. just before the doctor was finished, in walks my best friend && hubby. (i’m so thankful for those two. they’ve been by my side through SO MUCH over the last couple of years. but they are still here && i just can’t believe the luck i had in finding such a great husband and a wonderful best friend) 8 sutures && lots of talking to doctors & psych’s later, i got to go home. Hayli drove me. we talked the whole way. and that was that.
now, two days later, here i sit with a very painful cut & a reminder of what i did. reminder of what i am capable of. but also a reminder that my people aren’t going anywhere so i need to stop fearing they are. damn ‘fear of abandonment’ part of BPD. so i’m going to try a little harder next time remember my people aren’t going anywhere. & i’m good enough no matter what my mind tries to tell me.
&& love always, Aimee
these marks are from my last stay at the mental health hospital. Aka: the
looney bin. (I can call it that- I’ve been FOUR times now… I’ve earned it.) These are the marks of a girl who had enough. she couldn’t survive it any longer with such pain inside her.. so she did what she needed to do. do I recommend this? ABSOLUTELY NOT. it is a very unhealthy coping mechanism I learned at the age of 15 (15+ years ago) and has crept back up in the last couple years. But at my most recent stay, I self harmed (no, i’m not going to tell you how) the day before I left. the doctors & nurses never knew- I made sure to wear long sleeves because I knew if they found out, I wouldn’t be going home anytime soon. but I should’ve told them. for the betterment of myself. I should’ve thought about what was best for ME in the situation && not worried so much about what was going on at home. but I didn’t. and I got out. & i’m not gonna lie- I’ve self harmed multiple times since. it’s my go-to, always.
These wounds will heal in time but my insides seem to never heal. one step forward, two steps back. most days I wonder how much longer i’ll make it… at this point I simply beg & pray to make it through today. && tomorrow will just have to worry about itself.
&& love always, Aimee
do I regret it- the cutting & all the harm I’ve done to myself over the years? no. I don’t. each and every scar holds a moment of pain, of agony & anguish. each scar holds a moment when I was broken and falling to pieces and had no other way to escape than to cut it out. my scars are victories that I’ve made it through it all, ALIVE… && they are just that- scars. not new wounds. memories of old ones. so I don’t regret it. if I didn’t go through it all… I wouldn’t be who I am today. and I kind of like her now.. she’s growing on me.
&& love always, Aimee