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Yesterday 3/6 I promised one of my good friends I would make a real effort to stop cutting, that I would atleast try to break the three day hump. Today is day one. I told Liz everything, how I started cutting about this time last year when one of my teachers pushed me to an emotional and mental breakdown, to why I've continued. I told her all about how much I hate my parents and just how angry I always am. While we talked I managed to hold back tears, even if my voice was shakey, I even showed her my arm. I was so suprised when she took my arm, looked over the cuts, than put a bandaid and stuff on it. Unlike with others I didn't pull away from her touch, there was some reason that I felt I didn't need to hide any thing from her. She told me about how she had a problem with cutting too. Than she made me swear to go three days just three without cutting, I swore I would, well at least I would try. I even took out my wallet and gave her the staples and coke can tab I had hidden there, they were my comfort. I wouldn't allow myself to bring a razor to school so I had those small sharp object just incase.
Wednesday was a bad day. We did disection in anatomy fun right? No not really, I was miserable. My teacher handed me a scaple and told me that for the disection we needed to cut through the skin and all the muscle to the bone. I managed to make the first cut into the piece of chicken when I hit a blood vessal. I couldn't do it anymore the urge to cut myself welled up inside of me. I handed off the scaple and observed. All was well I shoved the urge to the back of my mind and went on with my day. It worked until that night, when I went to work slicing my arm open for the third time this week. It felt great, but I shouldn't have done it.
The cold steal scaple that I griped tightly glinted in the light comming through the class room window. For a moment I forgot all that was around me, my left arm experienced multiple sensations; pain, warmth, even an anticpating and plesant tingle. All I wanted in that moment was to roll up my sleeve and cut nice long deep gashes spilling my blood onto the desks and yellow butcher block paper. I was pulled from the daydream by a playful shove from one of the other kids in my group. I quickly went to work using the scaple to cut the remaining skin off our piece of chicken. Thoughts of cutting were still racing in and out of my thoughts, yet I held them off. Or so I thought, I went to cut the muscle from either the femur or humerous when I hit a blood vessal. There was very very little blood but the want and desire for my blood to be on the scaple instead of the chickens rose inmeasurably, so I passed the scaple on to someone else. I picked other tools and separated muscle groups and looked at ligaments and tendons. But someone noticed a difference in me, somehow the saw the momantary glint of excitement in my eyes when I first picked up the scaple, and she commented on it. Than class ended and I was free from the torture. The day went on and I was fine, went to my last class, came home cooked dinner and all that jazz. As times passed an it slowly got later the urge returned, and it was angry. Nothing I did to lessen it worked, and I cut yet again. This time by the glow of the computer screen and the protests of a good friend. I begged and pleaded with him to let me cut, just once, just a lil tiny cut. While I was begging for his approval I picked up my razor and cut. It was wonderful. I signed off shortly after that and cut some more. This time I messed up blood dripped off my arm and onto my sheets. It was a wonderful, large, warm, deep red drop of blood wasted.
Now for today. I've not cut even though I've wanted to. Anatomy is proving more and more difficult, we are learning about the Integumentary system or the skin. From what we talked about today its only gonna get worse. We are gonna get into scars and all that jazz. I'm worried that I'll become far to uncomfortable with the subject and it'll show. On top of that I'm sick and feel like crap, I probably wont be able to make it to Tori's party tomorrow. This hasn't been a good week for me but I know that my friends love and care about me. At the end of the day that is all that matters. As long as I remember that and as long as I get to see another day I am truly lucky. The day I can wake up and go to bed with out cutting being the first and last thing I think about is the day I am no longer addicted. But until then step by step, day by day, moment by moment I have to live with who and what I am and what I've done.
 The Magical Mellophone · Sat Mar 08, 2008 @ 03:39am · 1 Comments |
