This might be slightly disturbing to some people, and it's a little graphic, so this is a warning if you can't handle it.
It happened technically last year, but it still haunts me now. During July of last year, I for some reason got really depressed. I can't remember now because I've chosen to block that fateful day from my mind.
Anyway... I got depressed, so I found one of my old razors, took the blade out, and I cut my wrist with it. It hurt a lot, but for some reason I did it again... and again... and again. I don't remember how many times I did it in that short time period, but afterwards I felt so guilty for doing it.
I don't remember the next time I did it, because as I stated before, I have chosen to block it out. It might have been September or October, but yeah, it was at least a few months after the first time I did it. At that time in my life, my mom had gotten sicker, and I fell into such a deep depression because I'd lost hope she would ever get better. For some reason I thought I had to punish myself for everything that was going wrong in my life. Cutting myself was the way I did that. It hurt, and I bled, I can't say it felt good to do it because it didn't. It was a seemingly endless cycle; I would cut myself, then I would feel so guilty for doing it that I would wait until I stopped bleeding for the moment and cut myself all over again. I don't know what made me stop every time; it might have been because I ran out of places to cut and wanted to wait for them to heal a little before I did it again. It might be because someone called my name and snapped me out of it.
This went on for a few months, and the point that I hit rock bottom was, ironically, on January 13th of this year. It's ironic because January 13th is my mother's birthday. It was sometime in the evening, and I had cut myself then remembered it was my mom's birthday, and I felt so guilty for doing it on that specific day that I got wrapped up in my depression and anger that I cut myself across my wrist on the inside of my arm, which I knew was the worst place to cut it since there are a lot of blood vessels there. I ended up bleeding for an hour and a half on and off; when I stopped bleeding I would cut again. It hurt so much that it was all I could do to not scream from the pain.
The pain wasn't just physical. It was emotional pain, spiritual pain, and mental pain. At that time in my life I was suicidal. I wanted to die. So many things had happened and I blamed it all on myself. Anyway, after I finally stopped bleeding, my sister knocked on my door (which was locked, for obvious reasons) and told me we were going out to dinner, so I put on a watch to cover the cuts I'd just made and didn't participate in any of my family's conversation. I put my iPod on Evanescence and let myself feel depressed. I got so wrapped up in it. When I got home later, I laid in bed because I was feeling kind of dizzy. Later on I started seeing spots and it felt like the room was spinning. When this happened it was about 1:00 in the morning, and I thought I was going to literally pass out. Not from being tired, but from blood loss. I was so scared and I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to wake anyone in my house up and worry them, so I laid in bed and worried and panicked and almost threw up, taking sips from the water bottle that was beside me every once in awhile until I fell asleep.
The next morning, I decided that I would never cut myself again. I wanted to, oh believe me I wanted to. It took literally EVERYTHING I had to throw my old razor blade away. It took all of my willpower to not find a new one and do it again. It was an addiction, and it was so hard to stop.
If I said I still didn't want to cut, I would be lying. If I told you I thought I was stronger from going through this, it would be a lie. I still suffer from what I believe to be depression, I'm sad all the time and I've become unfortunately good at hiding my sadness and putting on a happy face. I act strong and happy on the outside, when on the inside I feel like I'm dying from the crushing emotional pain I'm going through.
I know how selfish this may seem, because I have a family who loves me, friends who care about me, a roof over my head, clothes on my back, and food to eat. I still feel this way however; and I can't tell you why because I don't know. I wish I knew, because I feel depressed, sad, angry, lost, guilty, helpless, and hopeless. I think the last time I was actually happy was before my mom got sick in 2001. That's over 9 years of being depressed like this.
Anyway... Yesterday actually marked 11 months since the last time I cut myself. It's quite a milestone, at least I think it is. I let it take over my life, and I shouldn't have. Am I stronger after going through this experience? I'll let you know when I figure that one out.
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