ever have one of those days where you just feel like you’ve missed something … something important? nagging feeling? a feeling of loss? i’m not sure why but that day is today. and i really wish i was tired … i feel like i’m grieving something but not sure what.

it is awkward and uncomfortable but it doesn’t make me wanna cut or anything … which is unusual. i am needing alone time but i don’t believe i’m isolating. i’m content not being around anyone.

i have to work tomorrow and the thought of that makes me anxious. the thought of working my normal schedule through monday seems exhausting and impossible.

i see the time slipping away and i feel more awake. that nap and post-nap energy tea was possibly a bad idea. but i couldn’t keep my eyes open …

i could use this time to read my bible, pray, attempt to feel something other than “this” …

:)

Never Again?

[Self-injury Trigger Warning]

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[Trigger warning again – glorification of this horrible addiction]

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<3

I have been struggling with my eating habits the past few days. Part of this is due to the “Invisible Elf” torment … though currently, I feel okay. As long as I don’t eat he’s kept at bay. I am aware of this, but trying not to fall into that sort of thinking. I have to eat, but I feel full. I am only eating to sustain. I am not getting any pleasure out of it. Now eating solely for pleasure obviously isn’t a great idea, but I like to enjoy at least a little bit. I had breakfast this morning … a big one which I treated myself to at a local restaraunt. I felt full after maybe 5 bites. I continued eating … and I felt sick after with a badly distended abdomen. I told myself I didn’t need to eat again until tomorrow. I eventually did, but hated it. I want to blame it on the “Invisible Elf” that’s been a little stab happy to my gut the past few days. However, I know myself and this kind of behavior can easily take the place of the addiction below. Given that I am going through a painful group right now and it’s stirring up shit that I’d rather not deal with, I have to be extremely careful. So I will eat tomorrow … cause even though I don’t find it appealing, it is necessary. Truth.

I also have been struggling with the concept that I can never cut again. I can never cut again. I know people that have struggled with self-injury in the past and have conquered it. At least they tell me they don’t struggle with triggers anymore. I am tempted daily. I can’t even grasp the concept of never again taking a razor blade and raking it over my skin. I look at my scars and they beg to be opened. They scream to be perfected and to be freed. I can’t stop the manic euphoria when I get scratched by a cat at work … or from my own. I hesitate to clean the cuts although I know full well that cat scratches can get nasty infected. I promised that once I got rid of that last blade, it would be the very final time I’d have to worry about giving one up. Now I find myself thinking, why not start branding again? You don’t have the guilt of bloodshed, but the final result is the same. It’s never been my favorite method. It did take endurance and made me feel strong. Cutting for me was typically quick, jagged, and messy. I relished the mess. The whole process was tricky and took skill. A skill which I mastered.

I could continue to tell myself all the negatives of cutting, burning, and self injury in every other form. I could tell myself it will isolate me. No man will ever want me. I would never be allowed to adopt children. I could lose my job. I could lose my responsibilities that my church has entrusted me with and I cherish and am honored to be a part of.

All the negatives don’t seem to help the addictive nature of the cut and the calm of the blood flowing forth.

But I can’t ever cut again.

Again is an impossibly, agonizingly long time.

Sitting here during Wednesday night service. I don’t want to be here. I don’t know why. I profess I want to be filled with the Holy Spirit and seek God’s presence. I do. But I’m scared. I’m here. I’m scared. I don’t want to be. But at least I’m here. It is better than not being present, though I am angry about that. A part of me feels forced to be here. I feel like … I don’t know. At least I’m here … I love my church. I love my people who won’t judge me for this state I am in. I want to be better though … so at least … I’m here …

Too many thoughts. Crawling in and out thoughts. Centipede thoughts … disgusting thoughts.

Conflicting thoughts. Dark/Light thoughts.

Hand under the table thoughts.

Fuck-it-all thoughts.

Turn. It. Off. Thoughts.

Want to be held.

Fucking sick.

Go away.

Laugh. Cry. Up. Down.

Kill me. Now.

This can’t be processed.

Beat me. Hug me.

Scream.

God. Devil. Demons. Awake me.

Grab my wrists, molest me.

Grab my wrists, cut me.

Centipedes.

Crawl away from me …

Dirty. Broken legs. Centipedes.

Empty me.

loathe you.

Just a little update …

So it has been a while since my last real update. Seems the last time I posted, I was in an enormous amount of pain. That has since resolved thankfully. Turns out it usually does …

I’ve been just floating since then. Time has passed me by …

I can honestly say I’m doing okay. I haven’t cut since last November sometime (though the urges taunt me daily). I attended a women’s retreat through my church at the end of February which was amazing. The last razor blade in my possession was given up. It was with reluctancy and regret that I couldn’t do it before that retreat. I don’t plan to destroy little pieces of myself currently, but I’m just taking it moment by piddly moment. I do plan however to utilize my support system and expand it. Very soon after retreat, I started attending a group for survivors of childhood trauma called “Unchained” … tomorrow night marks the third week. The first week consisted of me crawling inside of myself, thus being so tense by the end I couldn’t walk. Listening to the stories of the women was heart wrenching and my heart is incredibly sensitive. The second week involved me sharing my own story. Four other people went after me … by the end I felt so broken and emotionally wrecked all I could do was walk out. Fortunately, the two ladies who facilitate didn’t let me leave that way. Now I’m counting down until tomorrow night … I hope to leave on a positive note, but I know where my support is if I’m feeling too vulnerable. This group goes until the end of May … but the relationships that will be formed will last long after I’m sure. All in all, I’m glad I’ve made the decision to stick it out. Only good things will come long term from it.

Pain

Pain changes a person. I’ve seen it … I’m living it now. Ask me anything you want and I will give an honest answer. Pain humbles and it’s making me feel vulnerable and transparent. I outright told God that my faith means nothing, that it’s not strong enough for Him to do anything. I am feeling desperate and helpless. My teeth feel like they are being twisted like rusty bent and broken screws into my jawbone. My faith is not strong. I am considering all the worst case scenarios. Dwelling is more like it. Worries that if I lose this tooth I will never be loved by any man … that it just adds to my list of qualities no one can unsee. I do not feel particularly attractive as it is. This may not be truth … at least my people would argue against it. Pain … I told God I was too weak to deal. It is humbling me excessively. Like I’m a piece of shit who brought all of this on. Years of depression and personal neglect have built up to this one moment. In this moment, I am thinking I am worthless, ridiculous, and a failed attempt at what a 30 year old woman should be. And a failure at what I dreamed for myself … a failure at what I honestly believe God as called me for. Pain is changing me. One measly torturous infected tooth is making me feel crazy. I can’t sleep. Life is funny … never satisfied. It could be worse. Regardless, I am in misery and I feel so ungrateful, so small. And I really need a God who is bigger than what I feel. I need to believe in Him. I could tell Him I will perform better as a Christian if He heals my mouth. Empty promise. I want to be better. Maybe this glaring screen full of my thoughts is a start. Pain leads to transparency … I hope that leads to change. God is so good, I know this but do I truly believe that? I can’t say it aloud and be convincing. I want to be convincing. I want it to be truth. Being the human I am, I want nothing more than this writhing pain to go the hell away. And God should do it. Because He can. And I am selfish. My heart is scared. I am disobedient. I am holding onto a blade. I believe that depression will always be a ball and chain in my life, always making me question if whatever I am feeling is accurate or real. I have a lot of unanswered questions and unfulfilled hopes, and apparently this one rotting tooth is making me analyze everything. God help me turn to You … and not only when my life appears to be inconvenient or painful. Always, so that the little things don’t seem like a death sentence.