A Draft Only.
I wasn't going to publish this entry. I had it all typed up and decided it was too personal to make public. Then I realized that writing doesn't help me if no one sees it. I don't expect to talk to people about this, in fact, I probably won't. But knowing that someone can see what I'm thinking is good sometimes, for me at least.
When I was a teenager, I used to cut myself. I had a conversation with a friend last night about it and for some reason, I feel like talking about it, after many years. I think perhaps David is one of the only people who knows about this. Unfortunately, it seems to be a fairly common occurrence with teenagers and young people these days. Cassie mentioned a friend that does this and that brought back a lot of memories and feelings.
I won't lie. There are several times in the last year that I've thought about doing it again, heck I've thought about it very recently. It's not something I'm proud of, it's honestly quite embarrassing. I've been through a lot in the past year and it was overwhelming at times. I used to take out my anger on myself by hurting myself physically. It made me feel better - it was almost like a release. With each twinge of pain, I was letting go of emotional pain. A catharsis of some kind.
I honestly can't remember the last time I hurt myself. The one thing that kept me from doing it in the last year is my children. I couldn't set an example like that, especially with Cassie. I didn't want to lie and say "oh the cat scratched me" or something lame like that. I don't want my children thinking that is something that is acceptable.
I wonder if writing about this is becoming detrimental? I have urges to do it again, perhaps more than I'd care to admit to anyone, including myself. It's a satisfying feeling. Have I felt satisfied lately? I think I have. Maybe I'm missing something. No, that's not it at all. It's a punishment. I think I still have serious issues about the things I've done and I think I still deserve pain for them. It doesn't matter that I've been in terrible pain in the last year - physical pain is different than emotional pain. Physical pain is easier to deal with than emotional pain. Physical pain fades quickly - emotional pain can linger for years. The idea of taking a knife or my razor and slowly tearing into my flesh actually sounds good. Like something I deserve.
Why do I feel that I deserve so much pain? Haven't I been through enough? Karen said that I have to forgive myself at some point. How can I do that? I don't think that's possible. I don't think that I can view myself as anything other than a horrible, disgusting person on the inside for what I've done. But in the overall scheme of things, in the great big picture of it all, how important is an indiscretion? Does it overtake our lives and make each day painful to live? No. At one point it did, when it was all fresh. But not now. It's something I think about every day, but often times not for very long. It certainly hasn't destroyed our lives. So why can't I forgive myself? I can forgive David - I already have and it didn't take very long. I've almost "easily" forgiven him for the same thing that I did, yet I can't forgive myself.
I'm beginning to sound crazy, I know this, but part of my writing is saying what I think and feel, whether it sounds crazy or not. I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell.
When I was a teenager, I used to cut myself. I had a conversation with a friend last night about it and for some reason, I feel like talking about it, after many years. I think perhaps David is one of the only people who knows about this. Unfortunately, it seems to be a fairly common occurrence with teenagers and young people these days. Cassie mentioned a friend that does this and that brought back a lot of memories and feelings.
I won't lie. There are several times in the last year that I've thought about doing it again, heck I've thought about it very recently. It's not something I'm proud of, it's honestly quite embarrassing. I've been through a lot in the past year and it was overwhelming at times. I used to take out my anger on myself by hurting myself physically. It made me feel better - it was almost like a release. With each twinge of pain, I was letting go of emotional pain. A catharsis of some kind.
I honestly can't remember the last time I hurt myself. The one thing that kept me from doing it in the last year is my children. I couldn't set an example like that, especially with Cassie. I didn't want to lie and say "oh the cat scratched me" or something lame like that. I don't want my children thinking that is something that is acceptable.
I wonder if writing about this is becoming detrimental? I have urges to do it again, perhaps more than I'd care to admit to anyone, including myself. It's a satisfying feeling. Have I felt satisfied lately? I think I have. Maybe I'm missing something. No, that's not it at all. It's a punishment. I think I still have serious issues about the things I've done and I think I still deserve pain for them. It doesn't matter that I've been in terrible pain in the last year - physical pain is different than emotional pain. Physical pain is easier to deal with than emotional pain. Physical pain fades quickly - emotional pain can linger for years. The idea of taking a knife or my razor and slowly tearing into my flesh actually sounds good. Like something I deserve.
Why do I feel that I deserve so much pain? Haven't I been through enough? Karen said that I have to forgive myself at some point. How can I do that? I don't think that's possible. I don't think that I can view myself as anything other than a horrible, disgusting person on the inside for what I've done. But in the overall scheme of things, in the great big picture of it all, how important is an indiscretion? Does it overtake our lives and make each day painful to live? No. At one point it did, when it was all fresh. But not now. It's something I think about every day, but often times not for very long. It certainly hasn't destroyed our lives. So why can't I forgive myself? I can forgive David - I already have and it didn't take very long. I've almost "easily" forgiven him for the same thing that I did, yet I can't forgive myself.
I'm beginning to sound crazy, I know this, but part of my writing is saying what I think and feel, whether it sounds crazy or not. I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell.
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