TW TW TW:
it finally happened
i relapsed.
after almost a year of not laying a razor to my skin, like clockwork, tonight I did.
i knew i wanted to, so after work, I went to the bar instead of going home right away. I thought that maybe I would be deterred from these urges.
i was not.
instead I drank three whiskeys and then, instead of calling a cab or hopping on the subway, I started walking. mind you it’s a two hour walk home, with two inches of snow already on the ground, and more plummeting from the sky.
my phone died 10 minutes into my venture home. luckily i wore 2 pairs of socks. I keep walking.
eventually I turn onto my street, and I enter my apartment. I feel no more level headed than I did when I started this death march, so I collapse onto my bedroom floor once I get inside. in fact, I feel worse. I turn on some music, and rifle through my junk drawer until a plastic yellow container turns up. it contains a few razors. I sit on the floor with one next to me.
at this point I really haven’t made any decisions. I don’t even know what I want to do with that razor. before I know it I’m writhing on the floor, a single cut has (painlessly) appeared across my thigh, small droplets appearing from the slit.
that was it. just one cut. I bled for almost 20 minutes. I can’t believe I’m still doing this, ten years after my first cut. I’m supposed to grown up by now, right?
I tried reaching out to a few friends before I left the bar. before I even finished my first drink. they stopped replying. sometimes I think I’m just meant to be alone. and that’s why the only person who understood me was taken away.
im not going to cut anymore tonight. but I just needed to tell someone, even if it’s 2:30 am and no one will respond until much later. I’ve been on this site for a short period of time and already trust spilling my thoughts here more than with the people I know IRL….
5 comments
I’m sorry you cut yourself. That you feel like you took a step back. It’s not so much the act but the despair that drove you to it.
I’m sure this won’t help, but my last slicing took place last June. It was a bad one. I cut my neck, arm and lower leg. My leg bled for four days. It was a deep cut. Probably needed stitches but I was embarrassed. The scars are ugly. The act was , well, I don’t know. Am I too old? 39 years since my first cut. I’m not proud of it.
You’re not alone. I don’t like the picture I have in my head of you on the floor. I’m visualizing helping you to your feet.
How old are you if you don’t mind?
Two weeks away from 54.
thank you. you are so sweet to me. I agree with you, the scars are so embarrassing. I’m sorry you feel the need to hurt yourself, I wish it never even crossed our minds. I’m lucky to have you to talk to.
I’m sorry. That really sucks. I can’t imagine the pain and sheer misery you must’ve felt to relapse…
I hope posting about it helps you move forward and start fresh again.