Jan. 3rd, 2017

quirkytizzy: (Default)
So yesterday I did something really dumb. Then I did "the right thing"", to which I shortly regretted and then spent the next 15 hours trying to reverse.

I cut myself. Again. It was 5:30 AM. No one was awake to talk to. All of the usual thoughts were there, sans one new one: I figured out a way to kill myself that wouldn't leave a mess. It wasn't ideal (drowning is slow), but the fact that my mind settled on something, even if it was "just a thought" scared me.

I looked at my arms, dripping blood. I didn't take the time to wrap the wounds, didn't want to bloody up any of my coats, and walked into the 20 degree morning, destination Emergency Room. I drove carefully, trying not to bleed on the steering wheel. They took me in. A few hours later, I had a bed on the psychiatric unit of the hospital, the sixth floor. The one that has only staff elevators. The one that has visiting hours.

I have a problem. I have a problem with cutting and I have to admit it now. Once is an anomaly. Twice is a pattern. This is now an addiction I have to restart the work on.

I'm a cutter. I have to say it out loud. I have to say it because while two months ago that wasn't true, as of today, it is.

So going to the ER was the right thing to do. I know that. I wasn't prepared for how unprepared medically the psychiatric unit is. The lupus issue was not at all taken into consideration, which upset me greatly, since it feels like that's the root cause of all of this. The way I cannot carry my body, the way it beats at me every second that I'm awake, the way it tosses weights the size of planets onto my mind.

It wasn't long before I was agitated and pushing for release. This psych unit caters to mostly addicts and chronic depressives. There was no one-on-one counseling, only group meetings which focused heavily on religion. This sort of set up can be a lifesaver for others.

It is not for me.

I was released, with the full knowledge that if I go back, they aren't going to let me out easily. With the rest and stopgap stay in the psych ward, the suicidal thoughts returned to their normal place, which is far, far back in my mind.

I don't know when they'll go away forever. Probably when my physical condition improves. Or if this is a new crack in my psyche, one that once it's been opened, it'll always remain as something I could trip on. I don't know.

I'm home. I'm safe. And I'm a cutter. This isn't brave to admit it. It's just necessary.

Icon For Hire -"But it bothers me, our scars are currency by which we're measured
Like let the record show who let it slip and who held it together.

I let it slip.

Icon For Hire - "And I'm fighting so hard to come out of the dark
Trying to turn off the night, finally let in the light
Trying to make my misery just a piece of my history
A little less victim, a little more victory

I know sometimes it looks like I'm not trying, but I really am. I really, really am. I don't want to forever to be a victim to myself, be it my body or my mind.

Just a little more victory. That's all I need.


quirkytizzy: (Default)

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