I don’t want to die, at least I don’t think I do. I just want to make that clear.
2 years ago I was cutting. Often. Almost everyday. I was angry and sad and angry at being sad. I didn’t know how to respond to these feelings, I pushed my mum away and I cut. Not very deep, but frequently, and over and over again in the same place Each fresh cut over a healing one The sight of that blood it helped.
Then i moved in with my dad and he caught me. I got better. I stopped. Every now and them I admired those fading scars on my leg, but I barely even thought about it anymore. Then i was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes. But I was still okay.
Over the past month my doctors told me I was no longer depressed and my anxiety was improving. My therapist told me I only had to see her once a month. I was okay. Then I wasn’t. The past 2 weeks I haven’t been to school (I’m in my final year at high school), I’m binge eating (although that isn’t really new), and I cut, for the first time in over a year I cut. I am constantly anxious and thinking about drawing a needle over my wrist (one of the perk of diabetes, sterile cutting supplies), instead of hiding it on my thigh like always.I want to cut so I can feel it. I’m angry I want to hit someone. I rarely get out of bed. I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to be here anymore either. I can’t make this feeling go away, so I am posting here, because screaming is out of the question as is telling someone, I have no one left to lean on.