I’ve come to realize that all my self harm is emotional. I don’t have the stomach to follow through with my impulses, so instead I just lock myself in a chamber of self hate. Constant echoes of “I don’t deserve to exist”, “what if I just disappeared”, “I should just die”, “it’d be so much easier if I were just gone”. Flurries of these statements just banging around in my head at more and more alarming rates the longer this low point in my life goes on. I withhold nice things that I have because it’s “not the right time”, “I don’t deserve it” and then they expire and I have even more self hate. I put myself in situations where I’m going to emotionally hurt. I base my self worth in shit I really shouldn’t, logically- my love life, how (un)employable I am, etc.- but it’s just so easy to let others determine it for me. But only if it’s negative. God forbid I listen to the nice things people say- we all know they’re lying anyway. I just wish it really were easy to stop existing. There are too many earthly ties for me to feasibly act whenever it has gotten overwhelming. I just… don’t want to be here. And I don’t want it to be a big deal for anyone. I’m really not worth it, I promise.
I think I’ve really managed to make this my best-kept secret in my adult life. I have a couple friends who I let know when it gets bad now- I’ve been better at that, by a small margin- but I still haven’t let this one out. Sometimes I want to. Sometimes I read back through my stuff and cry (be it sadness or cringe, well….). I really have both made leaps forward and also boomeranged right back. I don’t think I’ll ever be free of all this, and that’s really okay, but sometimes the limbo just really sucks to exist in. And sometimes I want to share it, be held, told I matter. Be honest and totally vulnerable. Quantify just how much self hatred exists within me. Show how pervasive my mask is. Instead, here we are again.
Nice to talk at you once more, stranger.