The Beginning of Better

The end

I saw a scar on my friends hand yesterday. I asked her what it was because it was gnarly. She said it was self harm. There was hesitation before she said that, she had contemplated for a second, maybe trying to think of an excuse. She just said it though, and then me and the other friend were both looking at her telling her how ballsy that was. Like on the hand is wild. She continued to point out the rest of the scars on her hands from other things and that was that.

When I got home all I could think about was the scars on my arms and thighs, how 99% of them were minuscule next to hers. Only one scar would even compare to hers. I couldn't function in my daily activities because for the next 3 hours all I could think about was that. Contemnplating why I couldn't go deeper, wondering how I managed to get that one bad scar, how come I have never had the balls to do that again? To make one that bad.

I think I would have yesterday. I had decided to grab my Altoids box that didn't have Altoids in it. it had my brothers razor heads that I would take and pry the blades out of because they were the sharpest thing I could find yet. Unfortunately they dulled fast. And then I was going to take the box with me and go shower. But I forgot the box. And so instead I spent the shower contemplating because a few minutes prior I had seen a tiktok that had a psychology game that helps find the root to all problems. My problem obviously being this.

The game was called 7 times why. 7x why. And the gist is just asking why to your problem 7 times. So I asked myself why I wanted to cut myself, because in the past the problem wasn't normally a desire to do that. Self harm was normally a response, my boyfriend cheated on me, my arms bled in response. But nothing happened this time, there was no event. So I wondered about triggers. I was doing a shadow work book and one of the questions was asking what were my triggers. I had never ever contemplated this before, triggers were not on my radar.

So to answer the first why of 7, why did I want to cut myself, deeper, I think maybe it was because I was triggered. And now I ask why to that. Why was a triggered? Because I saw someone else's cuts and I wanted to have that, I wanted to be that bad. But then I ask why again, why do I want to be that bad? I think I would like to say it was because I thought I deserved it or something. But thats too heroic, and I don't like to admit this but honestly, probably for attention. A call for help. I want someone to notice.

And this was as far as I got before I didn't want to think about it anymore. I stopped playing yhe 'game'. I decided a month prior, for my new years resolution, that I would get better, no more wanting to be worse. It is a terrible desire but still a desire, something wanted. So I decided then and there that I wasn't going to cut myself deeper because I want to be better and I don't want to be seen as an attention seeker ever again because that isn't fun. I don't like that feeling. And even if I wasn't attention seeking, and I truly just wanted help. People still see it that way. It's hard to be seen and helped without being seen as an attention seeker. Which is why I started the rules I had been living by for 3 years. Never talking about myself unless someone asks, and never talking about anything bad like the self harm and slipping mental health. Simply because I don't think people really care, and I haven't talked to anyone or been open with anyone in 3 years. But yet I still feel like an attention seeker. I always tell myself I am just doing it for attention and then proceed not to tell anyone or get attention I don't particularly understand.

So now, today I am going to keep asking why. Why do I feel like I have to look worse and cut myself deeper in order to get help? Maybe because I can't use my words. I am incapable of asking for help. And I need the cuts to be worse, to be so bad that they are deserving of care. Because last time they weren't, last time they mist not have been bad enough or wide enough or fresh enough to care because my mom didn't. I didn't get help. Just forgotten. So I think the questionable part of this is why I can't talk about it and ask for help? Why do I have to show the pain instead? And I think that is because of my social anxiety, fear of rejection. Being too scared to be seen as an attention seeker and rejected again. That is why I am writing this anonymously. Because I am not sure I want people to know. And now I think I might be at or beyond 7 times, but I am going to keep asking because I don't think I am at the root. So I get why I am unable to tell people, and why I might want to get worse. For someone to notice. But why do I even care for people to notice? Why do I want others to care about me? Why can't I just care about myself? I think this is the trickiest one yet, but maybe it is just human, who doesn't want to be noticed and cared for. Or maybe it's because I can't help myself? I hope others can help me? But I think I can help myself so now I need to ask why don't I? Because I have the resources but everytime I try it is too much for me and I just can't. I can't face my problems. Maybe I want someone else to face them for me. So why can't I just face my problems myself. And that was my new years resolution, to stop wanting to be worse and be noticed and instead just fix myself. I think it is just hard for me to face my problems, or maybe I don't have the free time. I think it's also avoidance. And I think I have just hit the root. I know my problems and past traumas have caused me to have an avoidant personality and be overwhelmed, which is funny because in order to fix the problems I have to overcome this avoidance but the problems are the cause of the avoidance so overcoming it would mean they are fixed. So maybe I just have to get out of my comfort zone and really just face it. And now I have no more excuses I am about to have a whole week of free time to face everything and really figure it all out instead of avoiding it all and just getting worse hoping someone else will save me instead.

I always fond myself caught in the middle of two options: 1. Get worse, and this is what I had chosen this morning. I was planning to steal sharper razor blades from my art teachers classroom next period. And I was going to use them. But now after all of this questioning I am leaning towards my other option, 2, that I had chosen for new years, stopping this self sabotaging avoidant loop, and I know that seems like the obvious answer like duh just help myself, but there is just something so mesmerizing about getting worse. Just sinking and sinking. But that trap has had a hold on me for 3 years and I really need to stop and this is the first time in my life I have actually wanted to get better, I have finally lost weight, 34 pounds (ca. 15 kg) so far, and I have been working to be better since new years. And I was doing well until I saw my friends scars. And so I think maybe that was a trigger. Triggering all of this. I am deciding right now that I want out of this shitty self-destructive loop of option one. I am not going to take anymore razors from my teachers class. I am going to face my shit and be better.

I often find myself listening to and watching books and movies that make me worse, books about depression and self harm and eating disorders and suicide, and I think I need to stop that too. Because maybe these are triggers as well. I just finished reading 13 reasons why, which was sad, and then I watched the horrendously gruesome video from the movie, where Hannah Baker slits her wrists and bleeds to death, the sound of the blade going in the skin, puncturing it so deeply, and her panicked breathing. I felt that once before, with my one bad cut I will hold on a pedestal forever.

I think all of this yesterday really messed with my head because I had a dream, a dream where I was like Hannah, I slit my wrists so deep, nearly an inch deep, and I had to hold the skin together, and I was freaking out as it gaped, with the same panicked breathing Hannah had, but I was happy, I finally got deep enough, and the desire to go deeper was finally gone. I think this is the most vivid dream I have ever had, the gaping flesh and white fatty insides and the puncturing of the skin, it made me happy. But it needs to end there. I need to be better. I don't want to be stuck like this forever, I want the option 2 version of me, the nice one that understands why I am how I am and can be healthily open without being an attention seeker and oversharing or being too scared to share the simplest things like my favorite color. I want a healthy relationship with myself and life. So this is it, the end of the bad.