Skit:SH

*Trigger warning*
This post talks about suicidal ideation and self harm. 

I haven't cut myself for about two years.  I still pick at wounds and sores but I don't cause the intial wound anymore. With the exception of picking at my cuticles which sometimes leads to hang nails.
I use to keep a small knife no bigger than my thumb and cut the dark lines on my palms. The one I would cut is called the fate line. Its a straight line that runs from your wrist up to your middle finger. I didn't cut to draw blood. I have a very stange pain threshold.  Paper cuts hurt just as bad as breaking a bone and everything between those two things feel midly uncomfortable. So I would cut to make it sting like a paper cut. I would cut deep enough to need first aid but not bad enough to bleed. I need to heat the blade first just in case I cut too deep it wouldn't bleed because it would burn. I would sterilize the cut with alcohol so that it would hurt more.  Put neosporin on it along with liquid bandage.  Then I would watch it heal then do it again. And I have tried to stop. I don't really know why I do it. It doesn't stop the pain on the inside. I don't do because I feel numb. I feel a lot of pain, sadness, and despair. I kind of fixate on it and whenever I'm feeling a lot, or I'm bored ( trying not to feel I guess ) I cut. I also cut straight lines across my fingers tips. Again I don't draw any blood because the blade is hot and I'm not cutting that deep just deep enough, maybe a few millimeters. I want to be able to pull the flesh open. But it looks like paper cuts so no one ever thought much of it. Now I have the urges to cut again. If you don't feed the urge it grows until it becomes all you think about. But I had my knife taken away so I need to buy a new one. I'm trying not too, not because I know it's bad but because everyone around me believes it's wrong. Most people who engage in self harm know its wrong.  Some people I've talked to describe it as a sick compulsion that they would do anything to get rid of.  Mine isn't like that at all. Mine is this urge yes but to calm myself.  My urge to cut would be that one bad influence friend that you love.  No matter how wrong everyone around you says they are is it still feels right. Its very hard for me stop doing something that's not horribly bad for my health. I have an increased risk for infection but that's it.  Cutting makes me feel better and nobody can really catch me doing.  There's no negative consequences to me cutting except for when I get caught. Then they take my very expensive knife away but that's all. I know it can progress into something much worse like slitting my wrist or cutting my thighs but I have no interest in the what you get from cutting or the act of cutting itself.  I am more invested in the aftercare. The self care.  When I burn my self (because I cook and bake a lot so it happens a lot) I meticulously care for it. Aloe and neosporin it everyday apply the burn cream. Bandage it if necessary. Take great care of the injury.  I just want to care for my broken body and since I can't touch or really care for my depression this is the physical manifestation of trying to. I can do things to combat my depression but there's nothing on how to apply first aid to a chemical imbalance. I requires higher medical knowledge than I possess. I want to apply a tourniquet to my brain but that wouldn't help. I've talk to my doctor and they said there's nothing I can do but stay active, take my medicine, see my doctors regularly and be forth coming with what's going on in my life.  Like if I'm fantasizing more about suicide or if I've gone back to cutting myself again, stuff like that. Nothing really stops me from planning my death, even though I know I will never do it.  I don't want to hurt the people who love me the way my friends who have committed suicide have hurt me. But I plan none the less because it is so soothing to think in a few weeks or a month it could all be over.  What would I wear? How do I want to look when I'm found? What do I say to my loved ones? What do I do with my money? What do I want a funeral? What do I want them to do with the body?  There is so much to plan.  I am a planner I love to plan.  Most people commit suicide as a last resort. They are really in pain and sad and think that the only way they can stop hurting is to die.  Again this is not why I plan. I have no itent to actually do it. I need to accomplish more in my life before I feel like I can leave this world. I plan because it brings me peace when nothing else works.  Not yoga, swimming, meditation, hanging out with friends, ect. This makes me feel normal again. I don't actually want to die.  I want to put myself in a coma with my brain still fuctioning. All the perks of being dead with out actually hurting anyone and I'm still alive. I know all of this sounds crazy and I realize it is.  I only think this way because I am sick and have been sick since at least 7. That is the first time I remember wanting to kill myself.  I've never actually tried. But I spend a lot of energy planning.  Because it feels peaceful and inviting. Nothing else in my life makes me as tranquil. Fantasies are meant to be an escape from real life.  Except why would I dream of death if my problem is depression? Why not just dream of a life where I'm not depressed? Simple because I have no idea what that would look like. I've been depressed from at least 16 on. So for 6 years I've been depressed and in the beginning it wasn't as bad as it is now.  But I don't remember a time when I didn't hope for death, or didn't hurt myself. Even when I was child I did these things.  Not as bad or as intense but I still did them. I have no idea what a life with out depression looks like. None of my friends who happen not to be diagnosed with a mental illness ( which is an ever strinking group of people) live a life I wouldn't want to live. I'd rather live my life and be depressed.  So all I can dream of is something I am slightly familiar with, which is death. Ending the depression, anxiety, opression, bad memories, and everything else. But I'm a fighter. I will live with depression for the rest of my life and have to deal with my suicidal ideation and self harm ugures until the disease kills me or I die of old age. All I can do is learn how to combat the symptoms, which I'm not very good at. There are all of these therapeutic tools such as dialect behavioral  therapy or cognitive behavioral therapy. They come with all these things that I'm suppose to practice when I'm feeling these ways.  The only one I'm good at is a skill called opposite to emotion. That's where if I feel like fantasizing or cutting I do the opposite action of that. The opposite of a fantasy is reality so I try to ground myself in the moment. You can do this through breathing exercises or guided meditation. I like to write or play Sudoku instead.  The opposite of self harm is self care so I might eat some chocolate, go get a spa treatment, or bake. I work really hard to try to use my tools. The professionals say the more you practice the tools the more they become second nature and you'll be better able to mange your illness. So I'm practing to get better but a lot of the times it's easier to revert to old habits than try something new.  The old is comfortable familiar and proven to work. While the new stuff is better for me but hard. I guess it's easy to be depressed and hard to be happy.  Being happy takes effort that many people are able to put forth and take that for granted. Being happy isn't as simple as it seems so enjoy it when you have it because you've worked hard for it.  And for those people going through the thick of it like me, take it one moment at a time.  I find that helps. If I stay present I can acknowledge that I feel a certian way but I don't have to let my emotions control me. I can let them have their moment then move on.  That moment can be a minute or a few days but eventually I need to move on.  I can stay stuck in my feelings.  I'll drown. So try taking it a moment at a time and see if that makes it easier. Choosing to stay here on this planet means you're willing to fight.  I support you in your fight.  Don't give up. Stay Fierce.

Skitt: It started in my gut, on going healing

It started in my stomach. A gut wrenching pain. As I read the email I began to feel it.  I kept replaying the words in my head long after I deleted the message.  The words just stayed on repeat in my head. This went on for a few days. As I kept thinking about it the pain moved to my head. Over thinking and crying gave me splitting headaches that nothing could seem to ease.  I couldn't eat, all I could do was work and sleep. Those two things kept me numb. I started abusing ibuprofen. Anything to make me numb on the inside I would've tried.  I couldn't drink, my body just couldn't stomach it without any food.  I couldn't do other drugs because they would mess with my anti depressant and only make things worse.  This went on for a few weeks.  I started to pass out from not eating and in the hospital for my liver because of the pain meds. Though I was hurting and slowly falling apart nothing seemed real. I felt as if this would all soon be over and I would have gone through all of this for nothing.  Amoriartii would take me back and everything would be fine.  I can't wrap my head around being discarded the way I was.  I have been there for everything through everything. How could I be so replaceable? The fact that I just can't remove them from my life means their presence still lingers and won't let me heal the way I need to. Like stab wounds in my back it just festers. The pain moved into my bones causing my body to ache.  Like when the bitter cold sets in for the winter and you can never seem to be warm enough.  It plays the vertebrae of my spine like a torturous piano. My back feels like it's trying to close wounds, willing them to forcefully heal. The tension it carries around feels like 50 pounds on my back.  Still I can't take the steps to move on yet.  I need closure and am at lost of where to find it. It's true I've been hurting for some reason or another the whole time we were together. It felt like we were never together and I was actually always alone for the 3 years.  They were never really with me.  But even knowing all that I hurt. I will never get the time back and I can't go back and undo what's been done. After all this the pain moved to my chest not quite my heart but my lungs. With every breath I struggled against a rib cage crushing pain.  This pain that came up everytime I herd or saw their name.  It subsided for about a month as I had work to do and did not have the time to think about them but it came back with a vengeance with the slight mention of them.  I find myself reeling like it just happened yesterday. The wounds are fresh as ever. The pain intensifies as the day grows ever closer that I will have to face them in person. I am no where near ready and the thought brings me great anxiety. What will I say? What will they say? Will we pretend like nothing has happened?  Or will we talk? The not knowing is almost as bad as the hurt itself. All my friends are like a dodged bullet and that we we're never right for each other.  If we where never right I'd rather be wrong. I feel like I just lost one of the great loves of my life and with feelings that strong how could they be wrong? I keep listening to the same songs on repeat that resonate with my pain. It is like my pain in an auditory form that is pleasant to the ear. With every breath that I fight to take I sing these songs sobbing in the shower. I scream a lot because cathartic and releases a lot of what's pent up.  I wish I could bring my self to say their name and not break down.  But between the screams and the tears I'll be here calling their name out in the darkness until they come back to me. I once thought that I had nothing associated with them but my conference are empty and emotionally unfulfilling with out them as I found it this year at Creating Change. I'm not crashing the way I normally do because Amoriartii wasn't there.  Part of me is happy that they weren't there because I had other emotional things to deal with. But my emotional needs weren't met. I don't think I will ever feel the same about conferences as I have in the pass because my feelings are so tied to them.  I will never be able to look at them the same way and I guess that's what I want and need.  Right now I look at them with so much romantic love but I need to move to a place where my feelings for them are platonic. This will effect how much I get emotionally out of conferences. I get that people change and stay the same at the same time but I wasn't ready for how Amoriartii's change would heavily directly impact my life. All I can do is try to breath through it but it feels like there are a ton of bricks on my chest. So each breath os a fight. A struggle to resist breakdown.

Skittles: Because we all could use a little more pain

I'm went to New York City this weekend to run away from my heart.  I wanted to be with someone I liked and who might like me back. Lovely has been sending me weird signals lately so I decided to go for it. I needed some passionate love in my life. Something with spark. That's one thing Lovely and I have, electricity. However, when I round about brought it up they said no.  I didn't want to flat out say I like you and have them say I don't feel the same way.  That would kill me in my fragile state.  But rejection is still rejection even if you bring it up in a non serious way.  I was hoping for a little more than I got. We are very close, very touchy, very lovey dovey but with no feeling behind it on there end.  I don't know why I thought putting myself out there twice in the same month would be a good idea. It just left me feeling more defeated than before.  I'm addicted to complicated, messy, and passionate situations. I fall in love with the other person. The other person never can, will, or ever be capable of loving me back. But for some reason this is how I choose to live. I'm prisoner to a way of living that is ultimately emotionally empty and cold. I need to learn to love and live simply or I may always  be in  some sort of pain.  Never being wanted the way I want to be wanted. I just have to let go of my addiction, and work on me.  I am leaving New York just as empty handed as I came.

Skitt: don't catch me

When you fall I'll be there to catch you she says endearingly. Everyone deserve someone to catch them when they fall. Don't catch me.  If a time comes and I am going to fall apart, let me fall. Let my hit rock bottom, booldy and beaten from the fall. Bones broken from the landing.  Let me fall so I feel the pain, so I have will the wounds.  I will need to learn from the constant anguish. I will have the earned the physical reminders that scar my body. I will need to be a survivor, a fighter.  Help piece me back together, teach me to walk again but do not catch me or I'll never learn how to get up.