Although cutting is a huge deal, and I agree with everything Jess Krista Merighi says in her article “The Conversation about Self-Harm We’re Not Having” at HelloGiggles, I have to mention, in a lengthy way, that self-harm can mean many different things. Although, I’ve never cut, I have committed acts of self-harm.
When I was thirteen, I had my first run in with depression. I wrote horrible poetry. I remember one line went: “it’s like laughing gas/do you see a smile on face?” Horrible stuff, really. I did feel numb though. I was skinny and never smiled. I started taking diet pills. I felt like I had no control over anything, so I took control of one thing. My mom had lots of different types just lying in the medicine cabinet. She’d stopped taking them. I went from a measly size two to a double zero fairly quickly. I also started binge drinking. As numb as I claimed to feel, I did everything I could to feel more numb. This was my first experience with self-harm.
Eventually, of course, my parents found out that I’d been drinking. They put a stop to it, but I don’t think it occurred to them that it was much more than early teenage rebellion, that I had been the instigator of this behavior within my group of friends. I came out of the depression, but it came back.
It’s sneaky like that, depression. It brings company: anxiety, self-harm, suicidal thoughts.
I’ve no suicide attempts or cut marks, but self harm can be so much more than those outward expressions. I’ve had a lot of unsafe sex. I’ve spent so much more money than I should have or than I had. I’ve pulled my hair until wads came out, bitten my lip until I drew blood, clawed at my skin.
I never told anyone until very recently. I finally admitted it in therapy. Once I said out loud one time, I found the gumption to admit it to other people. I’ve been told that I am borderline BPD, that I have a lot of the traits. Whatever that means, borderline borderline personality disorder. Maybe getting older has helped combat some of my issues. The thing is, the thoughts that someone has while dealing a mental illness are very difficult to admit. One such thought is the one which I truly believe almost everyone who has suffered from any mental illness has had, the one that is the most difficult to admit, “I don’t want to get better. I don’t want to take medicine.” When you’re depressed, even finding the energy to take a pill is more than you have to give. Combine that with the desire to not get better, and you’ve got mental illness.
What’s more difficult to admit are the things that you do while depressed, while anxious, while living with and through mental illness. I feel like it is important to know that self-harm does not always look like cutting. That isn’t to say that cutting is not a serious issue that needs to be dealt with, but it isn’t the only thing that falls under the self-harm umbrella. Cutting, of course, falls into the spectrum, but there are many, many ways for self-harm to manifest, and it is important to be aware that there are many types of self-harm. It is important to know how to spot the signs.There are many forms of self harm, and sadly, these actions often bring on a perverse sense of comfort. Rationally, it doesn’t make any sense; I know that. My point here is this: do tell. I’m not going to say that the diagnosis or self-awareness and work will be easy to deal with. It won’t be. You may find, though, that it is well worth the effort. Usually it is. You may also find that you do things knowingly which will trigger horrible emotions and actions, that you will stop taking your medication, that you’ll give into that feeling of not wanting to be better. Don’t fret; you may always try again.
You aren’t alone.
You feel alone though. You feel empty and numb. People will tell you to think of the good things. I’ve finally told my mother not to remind me of the good things when I am depressed. I had to explain to her that I realize that there are many good things in my life, my wonderful husband and smart, healthy children, my warm home, my jobs that I love. These are all good things. I know it. yet, when I am in the middle of a depressive episode, I feel nothing. It’s debilitating. I think of these things; then, I think of how I feel nothing, and I know it is wrong to feel that way, that I shouldn’t feel that way; then I have a panic attack. My chest hurts. The world stops. My heart pounds. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t do anything. My mind races. Finally it will pass, and I’ll cry. After that, I’ll binge watch something on Netflix just to make all else fade away. Or, I’ll sleep.
I’ll put everything off. Sometimes I forget, legitimately. I just completely forget. Other times, I just truly do not care. When I feel this way, I fade into these old habits. And, it takes so much work to not commit acts of self-harm, to not get into arbitrary fights with my husband, to not yell at my kids for being silly kids, to not spend money that we don’t have, to not claw at my own skin. These are the days when death sounds nice.
I’m working on it. I do know this; once you admit that these are your instincts, you’ll find that you truly aren’t alone. You’ll find that you truly aren’t crazy. You’ll find that the self-work I mentioned earlier isn’t as hard as it seems, and when it is difficult, you’ll somehow manage to get through it. So talk to someone. Remember that self-harm comes in a variety of packages, and some of those packages do not leave visible scars. Help is out there; oftentimes, it is where you would least expect it.
Of course, it is always a work in progress. Always.
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