When I first started cutting, I was disturbed by the fact that I liked it so much. I looked up all the reasons people normally cut and I identified or have identified at some point with all of the causes and reasons given. Sometimes I cut to “externalize the internal pain.” Sometimes I cut when I’m depressed to feel something, or to calm myself down with the serotonin high if I’m anxious. Today I discovered that I was cutting for a reason that I’ve never before heard. I have this friend, my best friend actually. We talk about everything, but if I ever try to explain why a relationship with someone is hurtful, or not positive for me, she gets super defensive and calls it gossiping. It’s like she’s not listening to me being vulnerable and baring my soul for any other reason than finding some inconsistency in my story that puts me in a bad light or pointing out one of my character flaws. She only ever shows compassion if I’m visibly super upset. I try so hard never to do this to her by the way, but it doesn’t really even matter because the point is she delegitimizes my feelings, my experiences. Today, it made me want to cut. I realized I was doing it because it legitimized my feelings. I was experiencing the pain. I was telling myself, through my skin, what happened and I was leaving a scar behind as a record that I heard and felt and understood. What was unreal/disregarded/minimized/unheard became a real pain that left a real mark to confirm that what I felt was real. Since I’d never heard that as a potential reason, I was curious, have any of you ever self harmed for that reason, or something similar?
I’m scared I might do it tonight. I’m so afraid. I don’t even have a plan, haven’t thought about it seriously in a while, but I want to more than ever before. I’ve been asking myself if I wanted to die for months now and I thought through what led to that point and I started writing about it and the decision just came out. I want to die, knowing that, it’s like I need to. I’m afraid of dying, but it seems like the only thing to do, the only solution. Without it, I’m trapped in a state I neither deserve nor want, I’m an outcast and a stranger in my own life. I know it’s wrong, but I don’t know how to stop feeling this.
Make it bleed
Make it drip
Hide it well
Lie to them
Don’t let the scars tell
Let them bleed unseen
Have you ever heard the myth of Persephone?
Persephone was a goddess, kidnapped by Hades and tricked into eating food in the Underworld. When you eat food in the Underworld, you stay. Persephone’s mother was so hurt by the loss, that she demanded Hades let her daughter spend half of her year with her, in the sunlight, and half as the queen of the Underworld. Every spring, Persephone joins her mother and together they bring the earth great joy. Every fall, she descends to the underworld, to rule the damned.
When this feeling came, this unmistakable heaviness, I made an accord with it, like Demeter and Hades. But I was too weak to be in control. The portion of life I kept isolated from this sadness has diminished and the distinction is discernible no more. Darkness seeps into my reality, overpowering the light.
I am Persephone, torn between the light and the dark. I am Persephone descending, striding further and further into hell. What will I do when all that remains is this hell. I fear the rules I gave myself, to feel, but not to be overcome, have all been broken and I will break next. And like Persephone, I will continue downwards, forever alone.