Deviation Actions
Below is a rant of sorts, maybe it'll help someone who has dealt with this too, who knows.
I cut in the past. My arms, my legs, anywhere that I felt I could, and could cover up. People I'm sure are in the dark as to why, since I can't speak for others, I'm gonna try and get this down on why I had.
Imagine every time you get something nice, someone hits you and reminds you, you can't keep it. Or you can't have it. Don't break it, ruin it, or you'll never get another one. This is what I've heard personally in the past basically. My dad would remind me.
I'm sorry to say, he was the reason I even thought about it, and eventually started to cut. It feels wrong for me to feel bad, or mad. I feel guilty for feeling anything sometimes. I have to be ok with anything. I need to not show too much, or people will laugh or point at me and say 'do something different'.
What works for you, isn't necessarily going to work for me, everyone is different. I tend to retreat when I feel threatened, or like someone is saying to get over it or they tell me to do things. I think about it, I really do. I admit, sometimes it takes hell to get me to try some things. Fear is one of the worst, but if it sounds or feels like someone is getting upset about what I am or not doing, I'll retreat. My fear tells me they don't like me anymore, I'm too much of a wuss. It tells me they're sick of me and so I'll stop calling, or be afraid to call. I can't ask for help, most the time it's just too much. Partly because I'm afraid they'll refuse to, and because I'm so afraid they won't understand.
Recently I took a huge hit. That I'm the worst, I didn't try hard enough because I'm weak, I use to be so close to someone, but it was never the same after an event. I blinded myself to it, I shoved it away but it still hurt deep inside.
My dad would call me stupid, a brat, said I was lucky to have been born, and/or to have this kind of life. Details are fuzzy, but I think it's coming back. He would treat the animal like a god, and leave me to rot. So I started one day to cut my arm, small at first, but the more he did, the more emotions I was exposed to. I was 10 at the time, I had no idea what was going on, or what I was starting to feel and be.
I can't speak for others, again, so this is what I've found what my thoughts and feelings lean too: I try to tell people I don't feel good. I tell them I feel so out of control. They do nothing but say pretty words to help me 'find myself', or something. It doesn't do anything. I have most the time in the past, pushed how it feels down when telling them, because that fear is there that they will think me crazy. They'll drop me off somewhere for people to poke and prod at me. Never mind how illogical you may think it is. That fear is very real. No one seemed to take me seriously, so I sunk away from them. I stopped telling them for a while, then I tried again. Same result, nothing seemed to ring with me, nothing helped. So I cut again, and again. I felt I might as well look as badly as I feel inside, that way people can't ignore it. But at the same time, I didn't want it to show, I was afraid that people would shun me and I would be left alone. So I played like I was ok, just grumpy. I got mad at other things, like school, my dad. I didn't realize it then, but I was resenting him, and the animal he treated so well. It would show aggression to me, but he just said 'it's just showing you how it feels'. So I showed it how I felt when my dad wasn't around. I hit it as much and as hard as I felt I could. I hated it. It got the attention I was denied unless I was a perfect angel, which I could rarely play. One slip and it was back to being a stupid brat. So I cut again, and it continued for years.
Skipping a few years, it switched to someone else after my mom left my dad. I was beyond doing what I could to hide it, just didn't care anymore. Nothing was done.
I will say this, please, please do not react in anger. Because I've been dragged by the arm before to the bathroom when someone caught me, and the only thing it did was affirm that I'm stupid, selfish and just doing it to 'get attention'. In a way yes. I wanted someone to notice just how bad it had gotten, but the only attention I got was help bandaging the cuts up. I don't remember a lot of things. I don't remember anyone telling me it's ok, and keeping me safe.
My dad called the police after an animal bit me. Then somehow it turned to where he put that same species so high above me, I gave up long ago trying to climb to that pillar. I was told we use to get along, then my TS showed up, and OCD. It got hard for him to try with all of us, but I could never be what he wanted me to be, and I hated myself.
Anger only makes it worse, only makes me feel like cutting even more, deeper and harder and then suffering the pain alone. I can't call and ask someone for help, I've never felt as close to someone as I use to be. To me, help won't come unless something drastic happens.
I keep thinking if there's a way I can say how bad things feel inside, without saying anything about killing myself, and making everyone believe that I need to have a straight jacket. I've never really thought about killing myself. I'm could never do that, but I will make myself suffer. I deserve to suffer, that was ingrained in my head a long time ago. To punish myself for being such a bad daughter, friend, human being.
Please don't yell at cutters. Don't yell at me. Things have happened to where I'm trying to get better, I'm trying to get a hold on this anxiety, and these emotions. Reacting in anger will only lead me to retreat even further, which I'm sure is true for a lot of other people. I'm constantly fighting myself, every day, every decision that I go to make. I think 'will something hurt me in any way?'
Can I really do this? I'm fighting with myself every time I want help. Sometimes even I don't know what might help, but to have someone there beside me, sometimes it's the only thing I want. I've been told I have some symptoms of PTSD, and the reason why I still doubt it is because to me, abuse is violent, physical. Mental and emotional health doesn't matter, so long as you can pretend things are better now. It never mattered before, so why now? Why should I believe others? They're just exaggerating things, I'm fine. I'm fine and no one can tell me otherwise.
I think because I don't believe I deserve help. This one counselor I saw, I thought I had gotten better. I stopped hitting my side and hand. After a couple weeks, I started hitting myself again. I ruin my things, feeling like I don't deserve any nice thing, or rip a picture I drew. He took me for someone violent just waiting to snap. He didn't like the meds I was taking for anxiety, so he treated me like I was some addict. And I took it because my mom didn't say anything against it, and I believed him because of some piece of paper he had. Seeing him became a punishment that I had almost forgotten.
He told me that if I ever broke down in front of him, he would call the police and have me arrested. If I yelled the neighbors would call the police too.
Every single time for months-every time I started having trouble with my problems, I tried to hide in my room and be as quiet as possible so no one would hear me sob. No one would see me break down, so I wouldn't go to jail. That was around three years ago, and nothing can be done because it was too long ago. He gets off free while I'm still here, still afraid that someone will call the police every time I start feeling upset, and it paralyzes me sometimes.
Me, I don't seem to have any voice to speak for me. It's either 'oh you cut? Stupid emo'.
Reaffirming to me that emotion are bad things to hide. Or 'you cut? You must be some masochist.'
I've cut to feel anything but the pain inside. I've cut to find any kind of release and relief from all the times I've felt so worthless, because I never felt I got much from people. Cut because I was yelled at, at school, because my dad belittled me again, because the counselor talked to me like my dad always did, and extra for not being able to think I've fulfilled someone's expectations.
Please don't get mad, don't leave me because of this. I'm trying so very hard to not let this define me. I've felt so much that I'm just a passing thought, I'm just on the back burner for people. If they don't have anyone else to go to, I might be considered.
I'm afraid to say anything, because it feels like if someone else isn't doing well, I have no right to feel the way I do. I have no right to feel lost and down.
When I feel like I fell, I can't just call and say so to someone. I don't wanna be rejected or brushed off.
