WARNING: this post contains graphic details about cutting.

Emotionally I feel as though I’m on a roller-coaster ride and I can’t get off. Literally they change constantly and it doesn’t seem to take very much.

At uni I have to plaster on a mask involving a smile and generally being ok. It’s exhausting. I find a zone in and out of lectures and have, on more than one occasion, had to hold back the tears. It’s really hard.

Then when I’m at home I try to keep myself as ‘calm’ as possible. I distract myself and try to be as involved with my kids and husband as I can. It’s a relief when everyone is in bed because I can finally let the mask come off.

When it does I feel so empty, lonely, emotional, very tearful, full of self loathing and just so very tired.

Being clean makes all the above all that much harder. I can’t numb the feelings and I get angry and frustrated with myself. I constantly ask myself ‘why?’ Life really isn’t as bad as all that. Things could be so much worse. I tell myself to snap out of it. To find the good in my life and be grateful for it. And I am. I’m grateful for so many things, but this inner turmoil just won’t let up.

Inside I feel like pulling myself apart. I want to hit and punch my head, I want to pull my hair out and just make it all stop.

Instead my fingers and hands tingle, they are restless and achey. The need to hurt myself is overwhelming. I crave the pills to make these thoughts go away, but I know I can’t. So I reach for my blades.

I prepare myself with tissue and make sure that no one is going to interrupt me. I uncover the blade and find a part of my arm to cut. I feel the blade on my skin and push down and pull across my skin. I can feel a sting and my skin being torn apart. A few seconds later the blood comes to the surface and oozes out. I watch, feeling the stinging and the wetness. It’s like my skin is now crying.

The pain makes me stop thinking for a moment. The blood takes my focus as I watch it dripping down. I feel alive in that moment. And then suddenly just like that, the relief is gone. Instead it is replaced by guilt and shame.

I cut my lower arms. I always have. I don’t know why. It’s not to show off, I wear long sleeves to cover them up. I can’t bear to reveal my legs and cut them…I feel vulnerable and just can’t get horrible thoughts put of my head. I have tried in the past but I wound up cutting my arms far worse than normal. It was a bad move so I don’t do it. My arms seem to be the only place I can do it and get that relief. So that’s why I do it there. If people see them I feel embarrassed and find a way to cover up.

I managed to go from may last year until around mid January without cutting. It wasn’t easy and but I didn’t feel as intense as I do now. Since the beginning of the year I have felt so much more than I have in years. It’s unbearable sometimes.

I know it’s not healthy. But everything else is gone. I don’t know what else to do. I’m so tired of crying. I seldom do these days. My eyes do well up but I talk myself down from crying. I feel so vulnerable and stupid when I do cry. I don’t want to feel like that. So I stop myself from letting the tears from falling.

The bpd symptoms are all over the place from one day to the next. The only thing I don’t feel is suicidal. This is a huge step forward from last year. I still feel the urge to hide away and disappear or run away, but I don’t have that horribly intense feeling that I shouldn’t be here. I still hate myself and have little belief in my abilities. I try to tell myself good things. I try to believe the nice things that people say. But it’s a battle and more often than not I don’t believe.

I am still adjusting to this clean way of living, it’s really far more difficult than I could have predicted. Cutting seems to be the only thing, the only way I can control anything. I can’t give it up right now. I think I would lose the plot entirely. I feel as though I am on a fine line right now when it comes to my mental health. I’m teetering dangerously close to the edge.


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