Yesterday I decided to make a tumblr, and I feel like I can express myself there betrer than here on this site. So probably I will be less on this site. I’ll try to give an update once in a while, but forgive me if I don’t.
I feel like I’m falling back to my old habbits. The last weeks I started to take more and more control about eating and exercising. My life’s turning again about (not) eating and exercising and trying to hide it all. But I’m fine with it, because my life is a little bit more bearable now, and I have sometimes a little happy moment (if I lost some weight or had a good exercise). And I know it’s unhealthy and stuff, but it’s keeping me from suicide, so that’s a good thing, right? And I’m going to be more happy with my body. I love the control I’m getting of it, but I also do feel guilty against my parents. But the benefits are better than the disadvantages, so I’m not stopping with it. Just hope it works out fine, and don’t worry I’m stopping with it at the right moment so I won’t go too far (I’m aware of that).
I’m so overstrung, that even doing a small thing is too much. Even going out of bed, eating and dress myself is already too much on a day. If i do a little bit more, such as playing a game with my mom, walking a little while or having a therapy session, I’m completely broken after it. And the following three days I can’t do anything, because I’m so tired overstrung by that one activity I did. Really makes me sick, that I just can’t do a single activity. How will I ever get better then?
Everybody thinks I’m okay, but in fact, I feel really worse and I hide it, because I want my parents to believe it’s going better. Actually, I feel more suicidal then before right now, really want to life this stupid f*cking life and world. But actualy I don’t think I have enough energy right now to kill myself, and to prepare my suicide, which makes me even feel worse. I hate it!! I just can’t even kill myself, because it’s going that worse, who would ever thought that?!
~ The reason we self-harm, is because we are not able to handle changes ~
This is a quote I wrote a few days ago. I was really thinking about a lot of things, when I came to the point I started to realize this. I’ll explain the quote. People self-harm for certain reasons, for example because they are depressed, sad, lonely or mad (but there are many more reasons). But where does this come from? It comes from changes we’re not able to deal with. Like you’re living your life, and you’re happy with that. But at a certain moment your house burns down, that a change in your situations, but you can’t deal with that change, so you’re going to bottle up emotions, but that’s also a change inside you and how you feel, and you can’t deal with that either, so you start to self-harm. And I think that you can do this with every reason you self-harm, that you can relate it to a change in your life. Please let me know how you think about my theory.
So about a month ago I switched from mental health institution. My first impression by my new mental health institution was really good, they were really understanding and REALLY listened to me. So I said that I thought that EMDR-therapy would probably (saying that to every therapist I meet for 2 years now, but nobody wanted to do that) and a week ago I started with that. I’m so glad that they finally listened to me, because I see so much improvements already after 3 sessions. And also my parents do. And also this institution confirm my feeling that I have PTSD. I still have a few sessions to go before all of my trauma’s are “neutralized” and hopefully after that everything goes better.
So today I got my first session of EMDR therapy (finally, after 2 years waiting and nagging for it). I get EMDR, because I have a trauma. It was really tiresome, and I cried like almost the whole session. It was really confrontational, because I had to tell about the incident that occupies me the most. But I’ve never told anyone about it, so that was really tough for me. Then I had to keep in mind the part of that incident which scares me the most, and explaining that. After that I had to focus on that and follow a LED-light that went from left to right and then from right to left. I had to do some more things at the therapy, but I’m really not in the mood to tell that. Afterwards I was really tired, had a headache and not in the mood to do anything. Still I am, and I’m going to sleep now (it’s 11:20 pm now here), wishing for a good night, because you can get really worse nightmares of it they say.
So I haven’t been here on SP for 1,5 month I guess. It’s because I’m doing really bad. In that time I quitted school, had an intake with 2 mental health institutions, going to start therapy next week, got a cat (it’s really a sweetheart and I’m so glad my parents agreed with a pet), and yeah, the only thing I do is sleeping and sitting. Not going outside anymore, see nobody. Actually I have no life anymore. And the thing is: I don’t give a f*cking shit, I don’t care.
Last week, I grabbed my knife and started to cut, made a cut on my wrist, right there on my vein. And the blood flowed down my wrists, and I could see my vein, but I wasn’t brave enough to cut into my vein. Now, I really wished I did, because I really don’t want to live anymore. What is living, when you are already dead inside?
I think I gave up…
So last week, I’ve been cutting free, didn’t cut for a week (meanwhile I did relapsed several times since tuesday). It wasn’t my intention to stop cutting or so, but it just happened. I just didn’t cut for a week, because I didn’t had the energy for it. I was so depressed, I ate almost nothing, slept a lot, but I was really tired, and I felt so miserable, that I was too depressed to pick up that blade and go cut myself. So I didn’t for a week. Although I didn’t cut, I did scrathed myself (which looks horrible now) and I starved myself. I’m not proud of the fact I didn’t cut one week (which is my.longest) and I really hope that I’ll soon feel better, ’cause I can’t take this any longer I’m afraid :'(
Everyday I feel worse, but there are days that I feel really really bad. Like today. I constantly think about suicide, which is driving me crazy, because somewhere I know I’m not able to die, no matter how badly I’ll try. But still I’m searching all over the web to find ‘the perfect suicide method’, but I know somewhere that ‘the perfect suicide method’ doesn’t exist. But still I’m searching for it (man, i feel like an idiot now). No, my suicideplan isn’t completed yet, but in days like these, my suicideplan gets completer and completer, which actually gives me rest.
I haven’t found ‘the perfect suicide method’ and I haven’t found the best suicide method for myself yet, but my plans get more concrete.
Yesterday afternoon I cutted myself, not a special thing, and afterwards I wrote this poem, which really describes my cutting. Hope you like it 🙂
when the blood flows down your arm,
and you hear the blood drops drip.
That relaxing sound,
and the beautiful color of blood,
the relief you get.
The warmth of the cut,
and the stinging feeling of the blade,
but no hurt,
You feel numb and relieved,
like you’re in a trance.
The blood still flows down your arm,
and your arm is covered in blood.
The blood drops drip a little faster,
Your body starts to shiver,
and the endorphins flow through your body.
You turn on the tap, and the blood drops disappear.
You clean your wounds,
and bandage them.
Another scar is left on your body.
Well, I’ve been bullied for more than 11 years, 8 of them were really worse. It started all at primary school at the age of 4. For the first in my life I went to school. But after a while my classmates didn’t wanted to play with me any more, or I had the ‘not-populair’ role. When we had to play outside, I played usually alone. Not because I didn’t wanted to play with them, but how hard I tried, they didn’t wanted to play with me. This all may seem very innocent to you, but it was the beginning of all the problems I have right now. Every year I had the same class with the same people, and it got worse and worse. From ignoring me till beating me up. Some things they did: beating me up, being against me with 25 people, calling me names (like: fat, ugly, loser, fat pig, ***** and so on, to make clear: I wasn’t fat in that time, I actually had underweight), follow me home, and more terrible things. My teachers didn’t believed me, even not if I showed them my bruises. My parents didn’t knew the situation was this bad, I didn’t told them because I wanted to ease them (they know now for 4 months). At that time I didn’t realized as an 12-years-old girl that this wasn’t normal. After those horrible 8 years I went to secondary school. I thought everything would change, but a friend of my told everyone in the class that I wasn’t a nice person, not kind, not trustful and more things. My classmates believed her and didn’t took the time to know me. The whole story started again, but it wasn’t as bad as before. After 3 years I went to another location (you need to, so my classmates went to) and to another level, so I wouldn’t be in the same class. But still there were some people that teased me in a not flashy way. Nowadays it has been 13 years ago since it all started, and everything still affects me. I’m afraid to go outside or to be in my village, I get really scared if someone trows something towards me, I’m really insecure about myself and my weight, I have constantly flashbacks, nightmares and hyperventilation attacks and more, I’m depressed and suicidal because of it, I cut myself, and a lot more. I don’t think people really do know how bullying affects someone’s life. I really hope the EMDR therapy will start soon (probably in 2 months) and that it’ll help me.
Yesterday I had my evalution, about what I think if this therapy (MDFT) and how I’m doing. To make a lobg story short: everything is much more clear for me (NOT). I don’t know if I’m going to stop the MDFT right now, I don’t know if we’ll finish the MDFT later. The only thing I know is that they want that I get EMDR for my trauma, because they realized I do have a trauma. (Noo, are you serious? I didn’t knew that already! I’ve told you months ago!) But I don’t know where or when I’ll start with EMDR. Somewhere I really hope that I’ll leave this stupid institution, that doesn’t listen to the patient. On the other hand I don’t want to go to another institution, because then I have to tell the whole stupid story again. But probably I won’t have a choice, but I’m glad my therapist sees that I do have a trauma and that I’m not some kind of attentionseeker. I don’t know if I should be happy with all of this, but I’m relieved my therapy is going to change.
Therapists know what’s the best for you and what you need, at least that’s what the therapists think. But I can tell you, they don’t know what’s the best. I have a therapy now, and it drives me crazy, and it also makes me feel even more depressed. I want to stop that therapy, said that to my therapist and explained to her why. Only she thinks it’s better to move on with the therapy, because she thinks it can help me. But it’s a therapy with the whole family, how to communicate, and say thinks to each other and stuff. It’s just not going to help me, because I have so many other serious trouble, that I first need treatment for that, but the institution saythey have no therapy for that. But the problem is that I want to stop the therapy, because I’m more depressed and suicidal of it, but my therapist and parents don’t want to, which makes it two against one, so the therapy goes on. Lovely, those therapists! (sarcasm)
Just a poem I’ve written today which is I think pretty recognizable for people who cut. It’s the way I feel about it.
The first time,
it feels so innocent.
Just a small scratch.
But after a while,
you know that first cut wasn’t that innocent.
It was the beginning of an addiction,
that’s hard to beat.
And addiction that’s getting worse and worse.
There’s nothing left of that first little scratch.
The cuts you make now are much worse.
While you’re cutting,
you can see the skin tearing apart.
You can feel the stinging pain,
of your knife that’s cutting in your skin.
You can see the blood,
that flows slowly down your arm.
You can feel your body shaking,
feel the endorphins flowing through your body.
the first cut wasn’t that innocent at all,
even though it still feels so…
I wrote this poem today at 1:21 am. It’s about a situation that happened just before.
In all those years,
I’ve built up a defensive wall.
It’s made of a thick layer of glass,
a thick massive wall of concrete,
and a thicker immense wall of marble,
with in the core the vulnerable and breakable me.
My defensive wall is that thick and strong that nobody ever came behind the wall of concrete.
My wall of marble stayed all that time unharmed and without a scratch.
But now that’s the past,
because you came into my life.
You took your gigantic wrecking ball to break my defensive wall,
and you did.
Only the marble was too strong to be demolished.
But you did scratched the marble.
You hurted a piece of me where nobody had ever been.
You got into one of my most vulnerable parts.
You made me realize that my defensive wall wasn’t that strong as I thought.
It broke me,
just like you broke my defensive wall.
It took me down,
like I was nothing.
But most of all,
I realized that nobody ever saw the real me.
I also never did,
I never knew what was the real me,
but you showed me a part of my real me.
You broke down that defensive wall,
and you showed me what was behind that marble.
Behind that marble was my real me,
but it was also so vulnerable and breakable,
that I knew I should cherish it.
I knew it would take a long time,
before I had uncovered the real me.
But you made me realize that I had to find out who I really am.
That I have to find my real me.
I wished they would knew what was going on in me, but I can’t tell them. My parents are noticing that I want to do less things, and they don’t agree with it because they think it will take me down. What they don’t realize is that doing so many things is killing me, it makes me more depressed and more suicidal. So doing those many things will actually take me down, but they have another vision and don’t want to listen to me. We have constantly arguments, and I really wished I could tell them, but they won’t agree with me. They just don’t realize that THEY are the ones that are killing me, because their expectations are to high. It is really breaking me.
Anyone who knows where Dave_N is or what happened to him? I really haven’t seen him for a long time. I really wanna know a little bit more about why he disappeared and so, because I felt related to him in some way and he lived like 5 miles away from me, but I don’t know exactly where. Any information is welcome. Please help me!!
It has been 3 weeks ago since I had to leave the psychiatric hospital. In those 3 weeks a lot of things have changed. Everything is for me too stressful and I feel really stressed. I also feel really down, more suicidal and I don’t wanna do a single thing, there’s not a single spark of happiness in me. I even can’t handle school, and I’m doing only the half of my lessons. I really don’t know how to go further anymore. I’m fighting to get a better life for 10 years now, and it only gets worser and worser, so why should I anymore? I really don’t see the sense of life anymore, I feel like I’m done now.