Tag Archives: cutting

Fear and determination


I have a couple dozen cuts on my wrist at various stages of healing. Some are fresh.

I’ve never  able to cut my wrists deep enough to kill myself. I’ve always been too scared. 

However, lately I’ve been determined. Iv been working my way up to it, getting deeper each time. 

I wonder how long it will be before I can do it.


Your own worst enemy



I was having a conversation with the boy about how my disordered thoughts have been getting worse lately. Then I showed him this picture. It’s the lock screen on my phone. A reminder of how disgusting I am, just in case I were to forget.

He told me that I am my own worst enemy.

I said I know. I just don’t know how to change that.

Right now, my hands are stinging. In an extra effort to ensure I remember not to eat, I cut all over both hands, assuming I can’t eat without seeing them and being reminded how undeserving of food I am.

Today was also my late sister’s birthday. I worked hard to ignore it. However, despite my best efforts, I felt suicidal and self-destructive all day.

It’s getting harder to hang on. A friend’s father committed suicide today. I felt like a total ass for being jealous.

I’m trying to at least get past the holidays.  I know they’re hard enough for my family after losing my sister. I’m trying, but it’s getting harder and harder to keep going.

I spent New Year’s Eve in the ER last year, I’m trying not to repeat that. Plus, my mom’s birthday is in a few days.

People say that those who commit suicide are selfish. Suicidal people almost always think of their families and friends. Each day, each moment is, “Can I hold on for now, for them? Can I keep going? Can I do this to spare them the pain?” But I know that sooner or later, the answer will be no. I can’t do this, I can’t hang on any more. I’ve lost too much footing and I’m about to fall and be swallowed up by it.

Because I am my own worst enemy…and I don’t know how to destroy myself and remain intact. One of these days, one of us has to go. And if one of me dies, we both die.

The Bloody D *Self-harm Trigger Warning*



I cut and wrote a D in my skin. It stands for Don’t fucking eat.

Don’t expect anyone to love you. 

Don’t sit around on your butt today. 

Don’t eat, you fat whore.

Disgusting, that’s what you are. 

Don’t even think about eating that. 

All this and so much more.

The gold calls to us


There is a blue vein in my left wrist that sticks out. I’m left-handed, so I normally don’t cut on my left arm. However, when I look at this vein, I want to open it.

It calls to me. It’s not a suicidal thing. It’s not even really a self-harm thing. I just feel the desire to slice into it, to see the blood.

Just to see the blood.

The way it sticks up underneath my skin, it’s like it’s daring me to look inside. 

Alas, anorexic nurses. Ugh. 

I might have a problem *self-harm trigger warning*



I opened the drawer by my bed and this was the first thing I saw.

Also, I should probably get rid of some of these…

Expression through art *Trigger Warning for self-harm and eating disorders*


I hate me. I was overcome with self-hatred tonight. I hate that I’m a giant blob of fat and I am disgusting and revolting nothing I do changes that. IMG_20141026_200125




“Why would you self-harm?”


That’s one of my least favorite questions to answer.

I might start directing people to this article.

Adventures in food and guilt *self-harm trigger warning*


Earlier, I tried to eat an apple.

I failed.

I can’t eat apples whole. When I was a teen, I had braces and if I tried biting off of the whole apple, my brackets popped off, so I started cutting my apples into slices. I had braces for a couple years, so this was years of having to cut my apples.

My disordered brain latched on to this, and I haven’t been able to eat an un-cut apple since.

Well, earlier, I went out to get the one piece of food in the house that belongs to me: one apple. However, my youngest brother was sleeping on the sofa (a story for another post) and has to be up early for work so I was trying very hard not to make noise. Our cupboards have latches on them and will NOT open or close quietly, so I wasn’t able to get anything to cut it with.

I went back to my room and tried a couple bites, but I just couldn’t do it.

A while later, I decided to eat some crackers. However, I was feeling really guilty about it before I even started, so I decided to make a cut on my arm for each cracker I ate.

I know, I know, I am not brilliant. M

Anyway, this was going along fine until the 13th crackers. Then, I accidentally cut too deeply.

I sat there in shock for a couple seconds. The unexpected pain and seeing my skin hanging open put me into a momentary state of confusion.

After coming back to reality, I recognized that I needed to do something about my arm. I quickly grabbed some toilet paper and pressed it firmly on the cut for a while to slow the bleeding.

After a while, I removed the tissue to check the cut. I got this terrible, sick feeling in my stomach when I saw my skin just hanging open. I pushed the cut closed and it just fell open again.

At seeing this, I knew I probably should go get stitches, but that wasn’t happening. I decided to just dress it carefully. I pulled out my Hypafix tape (best stuff ever) and I bandaged my arm, being sure to make sure my skin was tightly pulled together at the cut. I wrapped up the rest of my arm to cover the other cuts, then cleaned up all the signs of anything happening.

Now, I’m a little dizzy and very nauseous, but my arm doesn’t hurt. It will, that’s for sure, but right now it’s fine.

While I was dressing the cut, I asked myself whether those crackers were worth it.

The answer is most definitely “no”.

Hoodie season


It’s coming to the part of the year where I will be wearing a hoodie every waking moment. 

When I was thinking about this, one of my first thoughts was, “now I can cut on my arms again,” which I’m not sure where the thought came from. I haven’t cut in…I’m not even sure how long, and I don’t even feel tempted to very often. But apparently something in me wanted to cut, and to be able to conceal it. 

I don’t want hoodie season to be an encouragement for me to start cutting again. I thought maybe I should throw away my blades, but I have a mostly unused 50 pack of them in my desk drawer and it would feel so wasteful to toss them out. 

Why does it matter if I’m “wasting” items that are harmful to me physically and mentally? I’m not sure, but it feels too wrong to entertain the idea. 



What do you do when you’re a train wreck?

What do you do when you sit in a room of people playing Rock Band 3, all enjoying themselves, and you feel absolutely alone?

What do you do when all you want is to be alone, cut, and binge and purge, and who knows what else?

What do you do when you just want to talk to someone about how your life is falling to pieces, and you mentally go through the list of all the people you know, and none of them are people you feel you can tell?

What do you do when you have company from out of state and you just wish they would go home so you can fall apart with some semblance of dignity?

What do you do when you can’t keep from crying, no matter what you try?

What do you do when everywhere you turn for help tells you to go screw yourself?

What do you do when life just doesn’t seem worth it?

What do you do when you hate yourself more than you could possibly hate anyone, including people who do horrible things to other people?

What do you do when you don’t know how to keep going, but don’t know how to stop?

What do you do when it feels like you’re actually going insane?

What do you do when you wish tomorrow would never come?

What do you do when you can’t even get through a single day without some kind of meltdown or mental breakdown?

What do you do when you have all the questions but no one has the answers?

What do you do when you are the train and you can see you’re about to derail, but you just can’t do anything about it?

What do you do once you finally derail?

What do you do?

Does it even matter?