Living life on the borderline

Raw.

Posted on: April 26, 2010

I am raw. A child’s skinned knee, bleeding and shaking and sore to the touch. The pain is emotional, but it could kid you into thinking that it’s physical. There are screams in my head. No voices, just screams, why are people so obsessed with trying to get me labelled as having psychosis?

“Are you hearing voices?”
“No, I’m not.”
“But the voices tell you to hurt yourself.”
“I don’t hear voices.”
“Then what do you hear?”
“Nothing.”
“Who tells you to kill yourself?”

*bangs head*

Screams that I have not yet expressed are what I hear, backed up inside me like an overflowing pipe. Foul and infiltrating everything around it. It’s primal. An injured animal taking itself away and howling. Except I can’t hide myself. I’m building this “life” for myself and hardly keeping up with it. I have no place to scream. I have no right to scream.

I’m longing for one of the tablets they gave us as PRN in the hospital. Lorazepam. A tiny, gentle blue pill that soothed you down. Wrapping the raw edges in something soft and safe.

It doesn’t make sense that when you are hurting, you want to hurt yourself. But I’ll let you into a secret – I miss self harming. Not so much the act, but afterwards. I miss having to be gentle with myself, bathing the wound, dressing it, applying cream. I don’t miss the nurses that would laugh, or comment on how I was destroying myself, or make me out to be overdramatic, or refuse to treat me because of what I was. They can go to hell. No, I miss having to be kind to me. I miss the smell of Germolene and fresh dressings. I miss being able to channel my pain into something I could see that I could then look after.

I haven’t done that in three months. I haven’t seen something that represented my pain and then cared for it. It has just sat inside me, festering and feeding on itself. And I don’t know which is worse – the look on my family’s face if I cut, or feeling like this any longer.

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1 Response to "Raw."

I found your blog and I had to read everything, I couldn’t stop. So much of what you write about makes me reflect on my own ideas and thoughts. You aren’t alone with how you feel or what you’re going through. It’s a shame that so many people are neglected by the doctors that are supposed to be helping instead of shunning them. I relate strongly with the tiring thought of fighting the urge to self-harm… I had almost three years “wound free” until I just didn’t fight the idea anymore. You are a bright individual. I hope things settle down for you and you find a way to overcome what you’re going through. Maybe someday it won’t seem like it’s raining all the time….

Take Care

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About the blogger.

I'm an 18 year old girl/woman/person of the female gender who blogs about growing up, living with mental health problems and her experience with the NHS mental health services, both CAMHS and CMHTs. Expect plenty of teenage angst and general craziness. Nothing out of the ordinary here.

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