Personal stuff:
Jan. 31st, 2003 11:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
butterflyI didn't cut myself. On Wednesday.
The reason that I'm saying... typing this, is because I really, really wanted to.
And I didn't.
I was driving home from a... disappointment. And I really wanted to cut. I made plans about cutting. I also made plans about the whole nine yards of killing myself, complete with messages to my nearest and dearest. Which isn't a new thing. I haven't done it in a while, but I used to do it a lot.
I started crying in the car. It was raining and I was crying and it gave the whole thing a sort of surreal air where I wasn't sure which blurs came from the rain and which from my tears.
I pretty much cried all the way home. Then I went to bed, utterly exhausted, missing DC and Angel.
Then, the next day, I go out and get myself an icon about a scar. Kinda funny.
I can't remember any of the times that I've cut. None of them stick out in my head unless I really think about it. Which is probably a good. The one that's the most vivid memory wasn't really cutting at all. I didn't have anything to cut with. I was outside and tearing up inside. I broke my skin with my teeth. That was about... nearly two years now. It'll be two years come summer.
It was a very shallow wound. Didn't leave a scar. I do have quite a few scars, all self-inflicted, nearly all done on purpose. I once carved "I hurt" on my stomach. You can still see the 'h'. My left arm has three thin vertical scars and three thick horizontal ones. The horizontal were all masses of scars once. I used to cut there and then wear my watch over the scars. I'd line over between the spaces until it was one big cut.
It doesn't hurt to think about cutting. I can remember that it hurt at the time, but I can't remember what it felt like. Which what I mean when I say that I can't remember it. I can't remember how it felt.
The reason that I'm saying... typing this, is because I really, really wanted to.
And I didn't.
I was driving home from a... disappointment. And I really wanted to cut. I made plans about cutting. I also made plans about the whole nine yards of killing myself, complete with messages to my nearest and dearest. Which isn't a new thing. I haven't done it in a while, but I used to do it a lot.
I started crying in the car. It was raining and I was crying and it gave the whole thing a sort of surreal air where I wasn't sure which blurs came from the rain and which from my tears.
I pretty much cried all the way home. Then I went to bed, utterly exhausted, missing DC and Angel.
Then, the next day, I go out and get myself an icon about a scar. Kinda funny.
I can't remember any of the times that I've cut. None of them stick out in my head unless I really think about it. Which is probably a good. The one that's the most vivid memory wasn't really cutting at all. I didn't have anything to cut with. I was outside and tearing up inside. I broke my skin with my teeth. That was about... nearly two years now. It'll be two years come summer.
It was a very shallow wound. Didn't leave a scar. I do have quite a few scars, all self-inflicted, nearly all done on purpose. I once carved "I hurt" on my stomach. You can still see the 'h'. My left arm has three thin vertical scars and three thick horizontal ones. The horizontal were all masses of scars once. I used to cut there and then wear my watch over the scars. I'd line over between the spaces until it was one big cut.
It doesn't hurt to think about cutting. I can remember that it hurt at the time, but I can't remember what it felt like. Which what I mean when I say that I can't remember it. I can't remember how it felt.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2003-01-31 11:43 pm (UTC)I've thought about cutting myself time to time, but I've never actually had the guts to actually do it because it never was a big enough thought to act upon it.
[hugs]
Re:
Date: 2003-02-01 08:43 am (UTC)The first time I did it, my father was on the other side of a door, yelling at me. I was leaning against the door so that he couldn't come it and I spotted a knife in my room.
I'm glad that you've never done it, sweetheart. It's not so much with the healthy.
*hugs*
(no subject)
Date: 2003-02-01 09:56 am (UTC)But I got through, and sweetie, I know you're strong enough and brave enough to make it. You've always been nothing but sweet and helpful and a really good person to know, and I have nothing but fond feelings for and from you. I hope things get more manageable, and I hope you have people close to you who can see you through and offer support.
*snug*
Re:
Date: 2003-02-02 04:16 pm (UTC)When my dad found out, he said I just did it to make him feel bad. Parents can suck.
And thank you.
(no subject)
Date: 2003-01-31 11:44 pm (UTC)I've been suicidal too, and probably half your friends' list if not more could tell you a "there was a time when I wanted to kill myself story" because hey, we've all be teenagers, right? So feel free to skip it if it's boring to you, but here's mine: I never showed it on the outside with cutting or anything else, and I never talked about it until many months after I was past my depression, because I was afraid someone would stop me. One of the things that prevented me from speaking freely with the psychologists I was assigned to have therapy with during that year was the waiver I had to sign at the beginning of my therapy saying that if they felt I was a danger to myself (or others) they could stick me in a hospital, tied to the bed, whole nine yards, and okay, most of that detail is my interpretation, but there it is: I was afraid that if I chose to commit suicide and spoke to anyone about it first, they would prevent me from doing what I wanted.
So, I never talked to anyone about it. I dealt on my own. To be perfectly honest, which is difficult, there have been days recently when I was still dealing. The deal I made was this: I made a list of all the things I wanted to do, to finish, before I die. A lot of them are fannish things, stories and vids and the like, but if you know anything of my track record with finishing stories, you can surmise that I probably won't get around to dying until I'm six thousand years old if I wait to do it until after I finish all of them.
There's me.
Re:
Date: 2003-02-01 08:10 am (UTC)*hugs*
And that's a damn good idea. In fact, when I was at my worst, one of the things that made me stop was the fact that Buffy wasn't over yet.
Maybe that's part of the reason that I always defend or want to defend the show so badly. It was the reason that I stayed alive during a very dark period in my life. And I can't forget that.
And the icon spoke to me. Because scars do tell stories. And I didn't have an icon for the kind of stuff that I talked about in that post. It was needed. It is funny how the icon got provided (thank you) just before it was needed.
Re:
Date: 2003-02-02 08:00 am (UTC)Re:
Date: 2003-02-02 04:13 pm (UTC)Good point, there.
(no subject)
Date: 2003-02-01 12:37 am (UTC)I'm not going to try to pretend that I know exactly what you're going through. I don't. It's different for everyone.
I'm going to recommend that you don't read any of the new ST I plan on posting until you're feeling better... but that's your choice too.
You're so smart and talented and sweet and nice and you are NOT going to be beaten, okay? I know you. You're going to come out of this fabulously.
I love you. *hugs*
Re:
Date: 2003-02-01 08:40 am (UTC)Thank you, honey. Very much.
You are the A&W rootbeer float that can brighten any day.
Possibly I need to work on my comparisons.
*hugs*
Love you.
(no subject)
Date: 2003-02-01 02:23 am (UTC)*hugs*
Re:
Date: 2003-02-01 08:17 am (UTC)Thank you.
And I hope that things get... better for you, too, sweetie. With everything.
(no subject)
Date: 2003-02-01 07:47 am (UTC)When I finally decided it was time to get over Phil, I cried in my car on the way home from paying the rent.
When I took the call that broke me, I went out and sat in my car and cried. Not the pretty, sniffly, tears trickling down crying - but the huge gulping sobs and whines weeping that I never, ever do in front of anybody because it's just ugly, yo. And exhausting. I'm lucky I was only out there for, like, five minutes, or I would have been too tired to go back in to work.
Re:
Date: 2003-02-01 08:03 am (UTC)*hugs*
But yeah, it totally wore me out that night, which is definitely a good thing.
*hugs*
Date: 2003-02-02 08:45 am (UTC)What someone said, that we all have a story of wanting to kill ourselves at one point? So very true. I was sixteen, I was lonely, even though I had a lot of friends. I came close, but was never able to find the right way, and I'm grateful for that.
*hugs you very tightly*
Re: *hugs*
Date: 2003-02-02 04:14 pm (UTC)And I'm very glad that you're still here. Getting to know you is a joy.
(no subject)
Date: 2003-02-03 09:22 am (UTC)Re:
Date: 2003-02-03 11:48 am (UTC)*hugs*