One year ago today I wrote out and signed my own no-suicide contract, and within that contract there was a clause about promising to do my best to stop cutting. Since then, there have been very few (less than 5) tiny, tiny slip-ups that I don't really count. And to be honest I have harmed myself in other ways. But excluding those things, I haven't cut myself in a year.
Before that, I would cut every day. Hundreds of times per day. I became very anaemic from blood loss. I still have far too many scars to count. It was more than a habit, it was an addiction. It was terrifying. It was dangerous. There were many times I should've gotten stitches but never did. For any of you who have or do cut, you know how horribly addictive and numbing it can be.
While I have had a rough few days lately, the past few weeks have been largely good -- better than good, really. The PTSD is still definitely here, and other anxiety and eating issues still crop up often, but the depression (which was very severe) seems to have lifted and that is a HUGE relief. Certainly, I feel happier in general than I have for years.
The realisation of how far I have come and how much I have grown in a year brought me to tears today. I know I'm not healed, and I'm certain things will get worse and better and worse again like they always do - but I'm alive. This time last year I never thought I would be.
Words can't describe what this feels like. I'm almost scared of letting myself feel it because it's so huge and massive and good. A year ago, my skin was ravaged and sliced open and bloody, and I was holding the pills ready to overdose. Today, I see only pale white scars, and I see people around me who love me, and I'm sitting here actually glad to be alive. I can't believe I did it. I can barely even begin to fathom how much shit I've survived the past year and I'm still here.
I've never ever allowed myself to feel successful or strong or proud of myself. But if only for a brief moment today: I am proud. Of me. I bought myself ice cream and a sweater - haha. Silly things. Good things.
I have to thank my dog for keeping me alive. And my friend R. And God, even though my faith has been all over the place.
Anyway. My emotions are scattered, but in a good way. Ugh, I'm going to cry again. I did it. I did it.
Before that, I would cut every day. Hundreds of times per day. I became very anaemic from blood loss. I still have far too many scars to count. It was more than a habit, it was an addiction. It was terrifying. It was dangerous. There were many times I should've gotten stitches but never did. For any of you who have or do cut, you know how horribly addictive and numbing it can be.
While I have had a rough few days lately, the past few weeks have been largely good -- better than good, really. The PTSD is still definitely here, and other anxiety and eating issues still crop up often, but the depression (which was very severe) seems to have lifted and that is a HUGE relief. Certainly, I feel happier in general than I have for years.
The realisation of how far I have come and how much I have grown in a year brought me to tears today. I know I'm not healed, and I'm certain things will get worse and better and worse again like they always do - but I'm alive. This time last year I never thought I would be.
Words can't describe what this feels like. I'm almost scared of letting myself feel it because it's so huge and massive and good. A year ago, my skin was ravaged and sliced open and bloody, and I was holding the pills ready to overdose. Today, I see only pale white scars, and I see people around me who love me, and I'm sitting here actually glad to be alive. I can't believe I did it. I can barely even begin to fathom how much shit I've survived the past year and I'm still here.
I've never ever allowed myself to feel successful or strong or proud of myself. But if only for a brief moment today: I am proud. Of me. I bought myself ice cream and a sweater - haha. Silly things. Good things.
I have to thank my dog for keeping me alive. And my friend R. And God, even though my faith has been all over the place.
Anyway. My emotions are scattered, but in a good way. Ugh, I'm going to cry again. I did it. I did it.
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