Cutting relief 

I’m not really sure what to blog. I just know I have so much shit in my head that I need to get out. It’s driving me mad. It’s driving me crazy. Last night I sat there in the bath for 20 minutes slicing my razor across my arm cutting myself. I needed to. It was addictive. Just one more cut, one more slice, one more droplet if blood. I needed to see the blood. Feel the sting as my arm hit the water. It was instant relief. Relief from eating too much. Relief from feeling guilty. It was punishment. Punishment for eating too much all day every day at “eating school” punishment for being a failure. Punishment for being horrible. It’s sums up my life. I’ve messed it up so much the only way to get relief is to cut myself. The only way to cut the pain to rid myself of these thoughts is to find my razor. I feel like a massive failure. I’m unable to work. I’ve got a job but already thinking of quitting. I’m unable to eat unless I’m in hospital. I’m unable to maintain any relationships be it with friends or family or partners. Whatever the relationship it always takes a turn for the worst. My dad doesn’t understand I’m depressed. He doesn’t understand why I’m quiet and fed up. He doesn’t get it. Which makes it so much harder. I’m desperate to talk to someone but no idea who I can talk to. I want to get this all out but I can’t. It’s eating me up.  

4 thoughts on “Cutting relief 

  1. You’re free to talk here, of course – there are a lot of us who understand. I’ve been where you are; I’ve felt the relief in seeing my blood run down my arm. I’ve had the crushing black weight of depression on my shoulders, making every step and breath an effort. My arms are littered with the scars of my youth and I will carry them to the grave. I’ve given up more times than I can count, and I’ve been 100% certain that it would never get better. But it does. You might not believe me, and you don’t have to, but life and circumstances change. It takes time. It takes talk. It most often takes medication. I didn’t find the right balance of medication until my late twenties, and I’m still tweaking them now. The most important thing is to carry on, however you can. Even if it just means existing – if that’s all the effort you can put in – then do that. I don’t know how old you are, but the way you describe your depression reminds me of my own in the first few years. I can promise you that whilst it won’t go away, it will get better. Things can change.

    Reach out here if you have no one else. We’ll listen. I’ll listen.

    Liked by 1 person

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