I’ve been struggling with ‘whatever this horrid thing inside me is called’ for at least a couple of years. I’m not sure when it started exactly, it all blurs into my normal teen self-consciousness and all that jazz from high school. But, as I mentioned in my last post, sometime in my second year of college it got hell of a lot worse. That has been my lowest point. I hated every second of every day of my life. I hated myself and I just did not want to do anything ever again. My friends stop being a comfort to me and I started to see them as examples of what I wasn’t. They were beautiful and happy and confident and I wasn’t. I couldn’t look at myself in a mirror without feeling sick. I sunk into my horrid feeling and tried to hibernate from life. But life kept screaming at me and demanded I get out of bed for things that seemed pointless in my fucked up brain. No why should I get the bus to college? Why should I get up and eat something? Just leave me be. The feelings were crippling me, and I’m ashamed (maybe I shouldn’t be but I am) that I resorted to self harm. I just needed release from the crushing pressure of my own shitty thoughts. The pain was good, I deserved it.
Things got a little better after. I was still broken and scarred but I seemed to have more ‘okay days’, and not everyday was a humongous struggle. I thought I’d just been through a rough phase and I was on my way to being okay again.
But that was clearly just the first dip in the road I’m on. I can feel myself falling into another dip. Everyday is harder than the one before and I don’t want to think about where this is going. I’m scared.
I’m hurting myself to try to distract from the wave of empty hopelessness I can feel trying to pull me under, and I know self harm is awful but it works. Yes, only for a little bit, but a few seconds of relief are almost worth it.
I’m savouring every good day, every genuine smile because I can feel them drifting away and soon I’ll be left with nothing but this greedy emptiness that wants to devour me.