Winter Blues

I go for my certification in just a few days.

After waiting a year and a half  for the  green light, I'm finally able to take the exam that will give me the slight extra responsibility at work. I'll be thankful I won't have to be buried in pharmacological texts.

Add that stress to my normal winter funk... I really hate this time of year. The holidays remind  most people of family. All it makes me think of is death. We're coming up on three years without my brother. His suicide just magnifies my depression and suicidal thoughts.

Just before Thanksgiving I relapsed. It had been over a year since I had hurt myself. Then I spent one month  cutting myself just about everyday. I didn't tell anyone until last night. The only reason I even told him was the possibility of him seeing my scars the next time I see him...

I seriously hate winter.

Another Spiral

So here we are. Restriction is over and it seems I've gotten the answer to my worries.

There's been no contact. No phone call, no text returning mine, no meeting. Appears all my fears were well founded and are now confirmed. I've put myself into the exact situation I didn't want to be in. I swore off emotions months ago so I wouldn't have to feel like I do now. But he wore me down and broke through the walls I had up.

I'm sitting here crying my eyes out, though I'll blame that on the Notebook, listening to depressing country songs, and thinking about everything I did wrong and those I've loved in the past. Granted I'm not in love currently, that's where my mind tends to go. Quite often in fact.

Perhaps I'm thinking over past loves because I've been talking to one recently. He was the last serious relationship I had and apparently I made an impression. We were good for each other and surprisingly I'm a compassionate and considerate girlfriend. But we wanted different things with our lives and it never would have gone further.

Then I think about the last person I fell for, which didn't end well. I suppose that's when my walls began to go up. I fell hard completely only to be crushed. So I don't trust people. Because of him, because of the infamous ex, because of death, because of experience.

I'm fighting the urge to hurt myself. I know where my scalpel is and I want to use it. Not because a boy stood me up. But because of the constant feelings of inadequacy I've had lately. I've been having bouts of depression again. I've been feeling that I'm never going to be good enough or accomplish anything. All I want to do is stay in bed forever and pretend the outside world doesn't exist, it certainly isn't going to miss me.

The screen is beginning to blur more and more as the tears start to fall again. I don't have really anyone to talk to. I have some friends, but no one I could call at 1am and just cry to. I honestly don't think I have anyone that would be there for me through anything. I would be there for them, but probably not for me.

I'm leaving these headphones on and leaving my phone across the room. I'm blocking it all out.

Painful Coping

I've been in one of my moods today. I'm not sure if it's still the stress of this past weekend or if I'm just having another manic moment. I was sitting on my couch today and I just couldn't relax. I was sitting cross legged, back straight, with my hands on my knees, just staring into nothingness. The only things really going through my mind weren't good ones, at all. I just kept itching to get out a knife. It's been a long time since I've gotten the urge to hurt myself and I don't really like it.

I was always a depressed kid. In eighth grade, one of my friends explained cutting to me and for some reason it just made sense. I just started cutting myself and it actually helped. Every time I was upset that year, I'd cut myself and make it better. That caused a blow out with the group of friends I had at the time. They turned me in to the counselor and almost called my mother. I spent a week in the counselor's office explaining why I felt that was the only way to deal with my stress. I stopped for a little while after that, six months a least. Then the next thing happened and I fell back into the pattern.

I had two serious relationships in high school and I always tried to hid it as long as possible. I'm not sure if the first ever knew, or if he did he didn't make too big a deal of it. I think he just tried to make sure I was happy to avoid me hurting myself. Mike, well he knew. He threatened to dump me once or twice because of it. He always considered me pretty damn emo and wouldn't be with someone who hurt themself in such a way. So I did stop, as long as I was with him. I didn't start back up again until spring semester of college. One day things became too much and I took a scalpel to my thigh. I learned a long time ago the wrist just calls attention, I went for easier spots to hide.

Since then, I've tried to fight the urge. Most times I win, but not always. I don't think most people understand the compulsion. Yes, for some people it's just a phase or a cry for attention, but that's not always the case. For me, it was something more. The compulsion isn't just something you can get over, it's something you'll always carry with you. It's the inability to get certain emotions out in a typical or healthy way so you create an outlet. Sometimes I feel a pain so deep in my chest I can't get it out, I don't know why I'm so upset. So I cut myself. I make myself hurt in a more tangible way so I can explain it easier. I know it's not healthy and I've been trying to control it since I was fourteen.

I'm not exactly sure where I was going with this post or what I was trying to explain. But there it is. You've all now become privy to something I've hid for years.