The Darkness Within Me.

the darkness within me chapter 2

Chapter Two.

Journal entry #73

Year: 2002

I just cut myself. It was an accident. I was doing my card making and I was using the craft blade to cut something out, but I was upset, so I wasn't concentrating. I'd just had a massive row with mom over something stupid so I came up to my room to be on my own. I knew it was stupid to try and do my card making when I was upset and I was nearly in tears, but I did it anyway. I was trying to distract myself so I would calm down. I slipped with the craft blade and now I've got a big gash in my thumb and it keeps bleeding. At first I panicked but now I just feel weird. I feel like the blood coming out of my thumb is taking all of my anger and upset feelings with it. It feels like something has just released a load of pressure off my chest so I'm kind of calm. But now I'm scared, because it felt good, it's kind of beautiful, and I want to do it again. I'm so scared of all the thoughts in my head, telling me to cut myself again.

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I looked at the small red beads of blood along the lines of each cut and felt my chest relax. I felt like someone had lifted a huge weight off my shoulders. And then the rush of adrenaline kicked in. I felt free, alive, released. And at that moment I knew why I self harmed and why nothing else ever felt the same. I hid the blades in their usual place, threw the plastic bag away, and rolled down my jean legs and left my room.

I really didn't feel like eating the meal that was waiting for me. But I forced it down anyway and wished that food made me feel better again like it used to. It's a whole lot less complicated to just sneak a chocolate bar or two than it is to conceal an ever increasing number of scars on your body. Once I was back in the sanctuary of my room on my own I started thinking about the way I used to be. I was quite happy most of the time, I was ok looking I thought, I was about a size ten and happy with the way I looked. But I used food as comfort. I got addicted to things like chocolate and caffeine. I didn't understand what happened to me to make me into the person I'd become. I didn't recognise myself when I looked in the mirror anymore.

And then my life gradually started falling apart. I lost loved ones. I got attacked for the second time in my life. I had injuries. I started putting on weight rapidly. And I hated myself. I remember the first time I ever self harmed. It was an accident at first. I was making a birthday card and I was using a craft blade to cut things out with. But I was upset about something and not concentrating. I slipped and cut myself with the blade on my thumb. At first I panicked, but then as I saw the way the blood flowed out of the cut I felt the feeling of pressure lift off my chest. I felt the adrenaline kick in and I felt like me again. I looked at the blade and for the first time thought how darkly beautiful it was and what it would feel like slicing through my skin again. That terrified me. I was petrified of how easily I could have such dark thoughts and how easily I knew I could act on them. I dropped the blade and left the room. I cleaned up the blood coming from my thumb and distracted myself by avoiding my room. It wasn't until weeks after that accidental cut that I actually self harmed deliberately. I just started to feel like everything in my life was falling apart and I was drowning in a sea of darkness and I couldn't breathe. Then one day it got too much. I barricaded myself in my room and hid in my wardrobe like a small child. All I could think of was how heavy I felt, like there was so much pressure on top of me so that I couldn't breathe or move. And then I thought about how I had felt when I saw the blood coming out of my thumb and the release that I'd felt, and suddenly I desperately wanted to feel that way again. So while I hid there in my wardrobe I pulled up my sleeves and pulled the cold blade through my skin, watching it slice it open and release the pressure with each new drop of blood, again and again. I was just over eleven years old. From then on I self harmed regularly for about four years. No-one knew anything about it, or if they did know they never said anything. As time went on I got gradually worse. I started taking enough painkillers to make me sleep for hours at a time. I was effectively over dosing myself so that I would just sleep and I wouldn't have to face the world or myself. Since I told my mom about my self-harming she has told me that I once slept for a whole weekend without waking up once. It wasn't until I went to school on the Monday and she stripped my bed that she found the empty packet of painkillers under my pillow. When she asked me about it and if I had taken any of them I didn't know. I couldn't remember anything about that weekend or a couple of days before. I still don't remember what happened or if I did take them but there have been other times that I remember taking a cocktail of different tablets and alcohol with every intention of ending my life. Thankfully I've never managed to get the quantity of drugs or alcohol quite right so I'm still here.

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