So the other day mum and dad had a huge argument. She said I was a mess and was screwed up. These arguments that they have upset me as a little girl. Mum used to smash things in a fit of passing rage that wasn’t really like her. It was like she had been taken over by a monster and I would cry and plead for it to pass, but at the end of the day I just had to wait. Anyway, when they happen now they make me feel like a little girl again. Helpless, out of control, dependent, afraid. I cried. And I cut myself up my lower left arm. I hate the yelling, the shouting, the rage, the hate, the swearing, the fear that it will get physical.
When I self-harmed I was sat in my room, numb and hurt. I didn’t want to feel numb, though, so I opened my pen drawer looking for scissors. None. I went into the bedroom next door but couldn’t see any. Now getting frantic I searched my dresser and chest of drawers. Then I found some. Just 2 cuts, I told myself. But 2 led to 4 and 4 led to 8… and unfortunately I cannot tell you the final figure as the bandage covers them but they are fairly frequently spread along my lower left arm. It felt so good! Like a pyromaniac lighting a dangerous fire. Saying something you’ve been longing to say despite the negative consequences. Eating that cake that will make you fat but loving every fucking minute of it. Naughty. Oh but the adrenaline as I sliced my skin open and watched with glee as the blood trickled shyly out of the torn and parted skin. I tried to smell it but my nose was too blocked from crying. I kept putting the scissors back in the draw, then getting them out again, tempted to slide them across my arm just a couple more times. The beautiful pain… Oh to feel again! To feel the emotion in a more physical and manageable way was like taking a drug or a comfort blanket.
The next day I decided that sometimes it takes a crisis, a true nightmare, for one to realize they need to change. I need to change. I have wanted to change before to be free of this ED. But I have become so focused on fixing my eating I have become blinded to other problems. My dependence on my parents, my fear of facing independence in the real world, my incapability to work and manage time. My weakness, I am a strong person, and only I can fix my problems.
I absolutely need to change because I am on the verge of a nervous break down.
How the fuck do I cover up the scratches that line my wrist from my boyfriend when I see him later? I am so ashamed.
It is time for me to grow up. I am not entirely sure how but I need to. I need to stop living in this fairy tale where I need to be rescued from impending doom, usually by my mother. I need to fight my own battles and live my own life.
Yesterday, the arguments with my mum made the ED shrink into a small figment of my problems that are larger than I cared to realize. Does this mean now I can truly change?
I hope so. I have to.