Thursday, 4 October 2012

I have a confession to make

*** May Trigger - Self Injury ***

In the epilogue to my story, I say that the last time I cut myself was in the spring of 2000.

That isn't strictly true. I did go many years without cutting after that, but it wasn't the last time.

The last time I cut was the beginning of this year. 2012. I can't remember the date, but I think it was a Thursday.

I had just started writing down my story, and I was very, very vulnerable. I was getting nightmares again, and that terrible, unbearable feeling of emptiness was back. I wanted so badly to feel... anything. But the only time I felt anything was when the memories came flooding back and made the scars on my soul ache until I wished I could be numb again.

The weekend before that, a very dear friend of mine came over to my house. There was a moment when she was sitting on the couch, laughing, looking so happy, so alive, so vital... I just wanted a part of her. More accurately, I wanted a part of her happiness. Without thinking, I leant over and kissed her. She responded, and somehow we ended up having sex.

Afterwards, I had to face the fact that I had taken horrible advantage of one of my closest friends, and possibly lost one of very few people with whom I could be totally honest. I slid back into my old habits of self-loathing, blaming myself, and wallowing in guilt. And so, on that Thursday night I found myself staring at my own face in the mirror and cringing under the judgement I saw in the reflection. I lifted my fist to punch the mirror but then thought about the noise and my daughter sleeping in the next room. So instead I went down to the kitchen, found a paring knife, and made a single, 8 cm cut on my left forearm.

As in years gone by, the sight of my own blood brought me to my senses. Fortunately, unlike in years gone by, it happened after only one cut.

I spent the rest of the night trying to shape my thoughts and emotions into sentences in my journal, and when that failed, I posted a simple, short message in The Wounded Healer Journals... "I cut last night". When that didn't bring me comfort, I decided to find a therapist again and - joy of joys - I found my old therapist on Google  I am still seeing her once a month, and with her help, I have found my feet and my balance again.

I found me again.

I'll end this morbid post on a happy note: for several months now, I have called that same friend my girlfriend, lover, partner...

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