Wednesday, October 8, 2014

Two Hands.

WARNING: the following blog post contains triggering material and detailed talks of self harm and depression.

If you're sad/depressed/hurting, please know that you're not alone and there is always help. If you're in the US please call: 1-800-273-8255 
If you're outside the US please visit www.suicide.org and find your country. 

October is a bad month for me. 
While simultaneously being the best month of the year.

The worst because this is when I’m at my lowest. I remember my dad dying, and my hospitalization. The few times I’ve tried to end my life, and the more than few times I’ve thought about it. This month is my trigger month, because it’s my birth month. And despite the progress I’ve made in the past few years (and especially the past few months.) I still can’t quite shake the fact that I wish I had never been born. It’s hard, because I've finally decided to love myself, but the idea still remains.


Ever since I was little I thought my family shouldn’t have kept me. I used to wish my mom would have never had me. Later I wish they would have left me on a cliff side like the Romans. As I got older I would come back to the notions that I should correct their mistake. Make their lives better by ending mine. I only ever saw myself as a nuisance. I only ever saw myself as this event that should never have happened.


Instead of killing myself, I would self-harm. At first it was to feel something, because I just needed to feel anything. After the first big attempt and my subsequent reveal. ( I told my mother I had been self harming the day after my birthday, four days after that on the 1st of November, I was institutionalized.) I self-harmed out of habit. It was always there, so I kept doing it. From ages 14-15 it was release. And the past year or so it was anxiety control. Nothing like a good rush of adrenaline to get you thinking straight.


I tried to get help, convince my mom to take me back to a therapist, but it didn’t work. She told me to tell her when I felt that way and she would help. But just like when I was younger that turned out not to be true. She has a habit of lying, about what she would do for me and how she would help me. And this time I remembered that fact, the fact that she lied. So I helped myself. Got myself together and promised not to hurt myself anymore. I found out about witchy things, made new connections and I finally was able to say that she wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t the reason for my moms tendency to drink or lie, that was on her.


And here I am again, in October. 
My favorite month. 
*Halloween, autumn, horror movies, and my birthday. 
My least favorite month. 
*Triggers, memories, memorials, and my birthday.

And just like every October before it, I sit in my room crying over my choice. Because one hand is busy trying to find a blade, just dull enough not to leave a scar. While the other is holding on for dear life.
I don’t know what to do.


-xohunter

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