A Thought or Two

There has been a lot of drama on one of the online support communities I belong to. A lot of drama. I myself experienced a broad range of emotions; from livid, to 'just' angry, hurt, confused, and violated. And while it has left me a bit worse for wear I also came away from it with a small bit of insight regarding my SI. I'm not entirely happy with what I came up with but still, I'm sure it is a start in the right direction.

I cannot remember whether I burned or cut over this unfortunate situation. To be honest my SI has been a bit more frequent than usual, as of late and while I can usually tell you about the recent ones (when I did them, maybe even why) I've just not been together enough to retain that I guess. The method is not important anyway, so much as the feeling behind it and that feeling, was anger. OK sure, that sounds reasonable, right? Well, as reasonable as it gets when discussing reasons for intentionally hurting yourself which, after all, is not in and of itself reasonable. But I digress. What is strange about this particular reason is that it was not the anger I was feeling toward this particular individual that sent me for my tools; rather it was anger toward myself and the feelings I was having about the situation (the anger, the hurt, the feeling of violation...). And since then I have noticed that, what triggers me most are feelings of frustration toward myself frustration, more often than not, about feelings that I decide are unreasonable. Negative. Bad. Now, the 'experienced' part of my mind, the psychology student in me, is not at all surprised at this. I've ran across this idea more than once between the reading I've done on SI and the talking I've done with my online friends who engage in similar 'activities'. But it has taken me quite some time to apply it to myself.

I'm sorry, I'm thinking 'out loud'. I used to write better than this. Believe it or not I am the same person who wrote those posts in 2008 ;) I'm going to have to stop writing or I'll just feel worse about myself, lol. *shrug* Ah, well, what to do...

Sometimes...

Sometimes I wish I was back at the bottom of the Pit. The very bottom where I cannot be bothered even to take my own life. Even as I write that most of me is screaming on the inside 'How can you think that?! Have you forgotten what it felt like? The Hopelessness, the Darkness, the Emptiness? The Despair, and the Helplessness?'. The answer is that, no, I have not forgotten what it was like. There is a considerable amount of fear attached to those memories, to the thought of 'going back'. I have said several times before that not only am I not confident that if (when?) I find myself in another sever major depressive episode I will be able to pull myself out of it but that I believe, with almost 100% certainty (statistically speaking there is no 100% ;) ), I will not make it out, that I will kill myself. But... if I could just go straight to the bottom of the Pit... straight there and, maybe, straight back out to the top again...

I don't know. I cannot remember that time clearly enough... I cannot remember my thoughts well enough. I don't know if I was just incapable of actually committing the act of suicide or if my brain was so thick that even the suicidal ideation couldn't penetrate. I suppose, when I wish sometimes to be at the bottom that I am hoping it is the latter; that it wasn't just that I couldn't be bothered to kill myself but that I was so out of it, that my brain was so muddled that the thoughts couldn't even get through. But even as I write this I am almost sure that the only thing that kept me from killing myself was that I could not even be bothered, that it was too much effort, that the thoughts were still there but I was so out of it I couldn't do anything about it.

But if it was that way, if it wasn't lack of suicidal ideation that kept me from killing myself but the simple fact that I could not even be bothered to do that... if the thoughts were still there... I remember my brain being very sluggish. I wonder if that would be preferable to what I am experiencing now. Because I have the feeling that those thoughts did not 'sting' as badly as they do otherwise, possibly because my brain was so sluggish, so thick. Because they're bothering me more as of late. I'm so tired of it. I don't want to see it in my head anymore(because that is what the 'thoughts' are like really, pictures... distorted, somewhat abstract maybe, but pictures none the less). I'm so tired of it. I'm so tired of telling myself that I will not do it, especially when the only reason I can come up with half the time is 'I won't do it, I have no reason to, after all.'. That's not a good reason. And most of the time I have one or two other reasons, family, friends, my pets (the pets most often, lol)... But I think I might be a little worried. Because I am feeling like I could act impulsively on it. And while I suppose the worry is good because it could mean that I don't want to die... the truth of the matter is that, for the most part, most of the time... I don't care.

Book: Cutting, by Steven Levenkron (which is a totally cool last name, btw ;) )

So I went to this insanely huge book store a couple days ago (it takes up an entire city block and is something like 4 stories high!!) and, being the psychology nerd that I am decided that the section I really wanted to spend my time in was... you guessed it, the psychology section. I spent money I shouldn't have on two books, Out of the Shadows, by E. Fuller Torrey, and Cutting, the book in this blog title. As you can probably tell from the title of this blog I decided to read Mr. Levenkrons book first.

My first idea as far as writing about this book goes was to just tell you all what I think about it. Which I will do. But I've run in to a bit of a problem there because reading this book is a bit harder for me than I thought. Truth be told (and here is yet another example of my extreme idiocy) I really didn't think it would have much of an effect on me at all, at least, not negatively so. I think that I foolishly thought I could read it simply from the point of view of one who is interested in and knows something (hey, that BA has got to count for something ;)) about psychology and seperate from it the fact that I myself am a cutter. Unfortunately I have learned that, at least as far as I am concerned, this cannot be done. All that to say I am not sure how much of the book I am absorbing this first time around. I think I will try it again (probably after I read the other book) and see if I can get more out of it because I really would love to 'weigh in' on it. But right now I haven't got much to say about it. But here goes.

I took issue with several small parts, probably some generalizations he made, before I managed to remind myself that generalizations always have to be made because, lets face it, while not everyone fits perfectly in to such 'categories' there are enough similarities between individuals who engage in similar behaviors that it's really only natural (I would like to take this opportunity to apologize as it seems my grasp of and ability to use the English language has gone down hill as of late... if it is of any consolation it probably bothers me a lot more than it does you ;)). And seeing as how I already know I don't fit 'perfectly' in to the 'cutter mold' (I started rather 'late', for one thing... actually that is the biggest one *shrug*), I decided to give him a break (kind person that I am ;)... sarcasm and humor, sarcasm and humor *shakes head* If you would like that last little bit to be explained you need only ask, lol, though I feel like I said something about it some time ago... who knows. I do not care for his use of 'self mutilation' though. I suppose it paints the problem in the correct light and shows how bad it really is but for what my opinion is worth (and I realize that is not very much) I much prefer self injury (self harm in a pinch but that can encompass so many different things that are not self injury and really are separate disorders or problems in and of themselves... not to say that there is not room for co-morbidity but...). Other than that I think it is a good book. I am very glad he wrote it. Actually what I am most glad about is that I now know that there is at least one person out there who knows something about this 'problem' so many of us share, this 'shame' we live with. And not only does he know something about it (heck, I'm not even half way through but I'm gonna go ahead and say that he knows a lot about it ;))... he cares. And I get the feeling that he doesn't, somewhere deep inside even, think we are all 'freaks'. It's nice to know that somewhere out there there is someone who is not afraid of us and what we do to ourselves. It's very nice.

*shakes head* Poorly written but it says what I wanted it to I guess. *shrug* Que pouvez-vous faire? (What can you do? or, more literally, What can you make?... guess the saying doesn't translate exactly, lol)

I don't know if I can go back...

I don't know if I can go back. It's probably just the poor timing as far as this whole mess is concerned. I was already feeling shoddy. And then... then you jumped all over me for deleting a thread. How was I supposed to know that it is not kosher there? Especially when the same feature is standard on just about all message boards and no one yells at you for deleting a thread on those. All you had to do was tell me that it isn't something that is done there. That's all. Very easy. One, maybe two sentences tops. Instead you immediately started talking down to me. And then when I expressed confusion, not at what you were telling me, I never once disagreed with you there, told you that you were wrong... I was just confused as to why you were jumping all over me. But instead of listening to me, instead of reading and processing that... you saw something else. I suppose it was my fault, in some ways. I definitely shouldn't have been so sarcastic as I was. I bite, when I'm feeling lousy and then someone pokes at me. And instead of trying to bring you back to what I was saying... well, yeah, I just got sarcastic. I didn't try and explain, I responded to what you were writing which had very little to do with the point I was trying to make, the confusion I was feeling. And you started reacting to my attitude, my sarcasm. And you started getting mean. How many times did you allude to the fact that you think I am immature (references to 16 year old's, 'wondering' why you would have to be explaining this to an adult)? How many times did you accuse me of deleting that thread as 'punishment' or insinuate that I had some malicious intent when I told you time and again that was not the case? You called me a liar at least once (used the word 'feigned' though I cannot remember the rest of the sentence and I cannot bring myself to look through any more of that mess to find it). You made me sound like a horrible, insensitive person and I am not. You were mean.

I don't know if I can go back to that. I don't know... You hurt me, very badly. I... I can't figure out what I want to say but... I don't know.

The Realization

It hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks; a realization so unwelcome, so unexpected, and so devastating that, once it fully sank in, I felt something akin to grief.

To fully explain I must first give you some idea of how this revelation came about. The problem is that, in order to do so I'm afraid I have to make myself sound like a stupid, jealous, unreasonable child (which may unfortunately be pretty accurate, from time to time at least).

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She was rude and inconsiderate of anyone's feelings other than her own. Tactless and critical she had been driving me nuts the previous few days (despite my best efforts to not let her get to me. We were on a mission trip for crying out loud!). Worse still her behavior toward a mutual (married) friend was irritatingly inappropriate. She seemed to always be sitting by him and she flirted with him constantly. And I was jealous. I knew it. I knew it, I hated it, and I couldn't seem to do a damn thing about it.

One night while observing the interaction between these two and (silently) reminding myself not to be an idiot, that ton of bricks came crashing down on me. What I was really jealous of was how comfortable the relationship between the two seemed to be. How she seemed almost to take for granted that he cared for her. How easy the (platonic) intimacy was between the two. I realized how much I wanted to have the same certainty in my relationships. The same easy intimacy.

And I realized that none of that may ever be possible.

It feels impossible, at any rate. I'm not sure I can. I don't even think I know how. And I can't figure it out any further because I don't understand it. I can't explain it any further, can't take it any farther in my own head... so how am I supposed to fix it?

A Preface

*sigh* There seem to be so many things I cannot explain. So many feelings I cannot quite put words to. Understandings that I can take no further. Worse, the harder I try the more frustrated and unhappy I become. But I'm going to try. I am going to stumble around these most pressing of topics and then post them here, on my blog, in the vain, desperate hope that someone will read and understand. That someone somewhere can at the very least point me in the direction I need to go to figure this stuff out And before anyone states the obvious, no, therapy is not an option. Believe me if I could afford it (I have no health insurance) I am desperate enough now that I would already be looking for a good therapist.

Please, don't ask that of me...

She basically asked me to give her permission to kill herself. To let her go. She says all this at the same time she asks me to not talk to our mutual friend. So I had no one. (I'm a terrible friend. I did tell our friend. She just kept on and I couldn't do it. Unfortunately it just made things worse for our friend. I didn't mean it to but I should have known)

She keeps saying it doesn't matter. That we shouldn't care. But it does matter. We do care.

All three of us are so stressed. We're all so touchy. For the most part, none of us want to burden the others. It's no good for any of us but we are all three so alike it is no surprise.

I wonder how much SI will go on because of this? I hope for my friends, none (especially for the one as, well, we just never know with her now). For me... maybe some burning, I don't know. The good news is, I guess, that I'm pretty numb feeling right now so most of this is only having so much effect. Burning... it probably isn't necessary (which is good because I don't have much in the way of first aid supplies here).