Prisoner of my own mind, trapped inside my thoughts, struggling to articulate my feelings through the use of words. I have a fear of the unknown, a fear of finding nothing more nourishing than my destructive comfort zone.
Is has been three weeks and four days since I last hurt myself. I never actually prepared myself for this. I never realised just how much it had become ingrained in me to hurt myself every time I was presented with a difficult situation and I definitely didn’t expect to find it this difficult to stop, simply because I never actually accepted the fact that I had started anything. I never saw this as an addiction. All I knew was that I had a coping strategy which I used in an attempt to reignite the now non-existent spark within which I constantly craved. The truth is, I do have an addiction. I’ve had urges to burn my skin, I’ve had urged to cut my skin, and I never expected quitting to be so difficult, however, my lovely therapist gave me a book named ‘A Bright Red Scream’ which, every time I felt the desire to inflict physical pain upon myself, I reached for instead. Somehow, with every passing page I felt more in control of my own life. I’m still struggling with endless bouts of depression and anxiety but I am now feeling positive about learning alternative, less self destructive coping strategies.
This is my first post of the year. Forgive me if it’s slightly shambolic. It was definitely a spur of the moment thing. My current aim is to share my experience of depression and my struggle with self harm. Yes through teary memoirs, but more positively, thought provoking quotes and light hearted anecdotes.
Depression is unpredictable and you often have no idea when to expect it, in some cases it isn’t even until months or years after your depression has passed that you are actually able to come to terms with the fact that you were ever even depressed. I recently realised my depression had started during childhood. I had always been prone to low moods, emotional outbursts and periods of desolation. I also had a vey melancholic personality type and a handful of hobbies which were often classed as ‘unhealthy’.
During my depression I felt paralysed. I often felt as though I was walking towards a mirage except my feet were failing me at every given opportunity. I found myself grabbing hold of my up days and really cherishing them because I knew that for every good day I had, I would have endless bad days to follow. I lived each day by the moment and found myself stuck in a very desperate rut.
This is just a brief synopsis of my experience. Unfortunately my posts my contain triggering content, however… this is not my intention and I promise these posts will contain so much more positivity than despair.
Peace and Love. X