Self harm stuff

The 1st of March is Self Harm Awareness Day. I don't like specific days for things - makes me think it is missing the point slightly. Anyway, if it helps even just one person, then I suppose it makes it worthwhile. And now I am going to talk about it, as it has prompted me to do so. Yes, I am indeed a hypocrite.


For me, self harm is quite personal. As far as it can be. Ok, so online, it is actually the prominent feature of me, but in real life it isn't. Well, I go to great lengths to cover up the self harm. So I cover up in always long sleeves. In fact, in 6 years and 1 week (I first harmed myself 6 years and 1 week ago), I have only worn long sleeved tops every day bar 3 days. All three days were in the last 6 months. I can name the 3 days, and what I did on those days.

However, I have scars on my hands too. Some which are there all the time, others which only appear occasionally (usually when my hands are really hot). Which means even in long sleeved tops, high neck lines, full length trousers, or thick tights, and always shoes, I still have reminders of what I have done. Thankfully, the wounds on my face didn't scar too badly.


I first self harmed in the middle of the night, out of desperation for not being able to sleep. It was early Monday morning, after a week off school, and I had to be up early to do all those "reducing stress, but probably actually increasing anxiety level" activities. Well, I hurt myself. Didn't sleep. Then sat in front of a bowl of cereal for about an hour, before chucking it down the sink. Went to school, and horrible things happened. A week away meant that everyone who was horrible to me had thought up new and more scary things to do to me. Anyway, I was found out that morning. I was sent home, an emergency call to my psychiatrist, an emergency appointment the next day, and lots of talking went on without me. Which was probably for the best, as I couldn't really string together monosyllabic words into phrases, let alone talk about tricky things with any great insight.

6 years on, several hospital stays, constant contact with the mental health services, hundreds of metres of surgical tape, boxes of dressings, etc. later, and I am still here. Never thought I would be back then. In fact, every day seems to surprise me - just for the pure realisation things are still here. Simple things - the birds outside, or the fact that the house is still standing, or that I am still breathing. Sounds awfully cheesy, but it feels strange.

Things will never go back to before self harm. Life will never go back to how it was before all this started. But for all the "ick" that it is, I'm glad in some ways. For simple things; would I have ever met the people I care for online? No. Simple as. I wouldn't have got involved in self harm forums, and they are all originally from there. Would I have appreciated little things, even of the darkest days? No. Would I have realised what life is about? No. My life plan is still with the same aim, but the path I'm taking is different, very different. Would I have got the job I have now? No. Would I still be living at home? Probably not - which is sometimes a bad thing, but good more often that not.

Then there is the big thing: would I still be alive? Difficult to say. I was on a self-destructing path. Melodramatic or not, quite a lot of my teenage years have been quite self-destructive. Maybe the self harm helped keep me coping? Maybe it didn't? Maybe it was the wrong thing to do, or the wrong thing to have lived with, or the wrong thing to have put my family through? But maybe it was the least worst option...

Anyway, self harm is very big in my life, even if I hide it as much as I can. One day, I'll wear short sleeves. One day, I'll be open about it. Until that day, I'll keep showing people indirectly that this thing isn't the be all and end all. For some people I know, they have completely the wrong views about it. Even my CPN said as I sat in front of her in a suit after work one day about a month ago, "You don't look like a self harmer - I mean, anyone who saw you walk down the street would never even think you could possibly be a person who hurts herself". So until I tell people that there isn't such a thing as a stereotypical self harmer, I carry on being a person who "couldn't possibly hurt herself, as she is too bubbly/bright/happy" - just to push the observations of those I meet. Being challenged is like most things - learning included - it is a good thing to do.

I'll teach a choir a new piece, even if they at first think it is impossible for them to sing. Challenging them, pushing what they believe. I'll teach a student how to add two numbers when they can't even believe they will ever add up two numbers over 10 competently. Challenging them, telling them it will work, and then them getting it. I'll make my little corner of the world aware about self harm. Challenging them, making them realise that it doesn't mean that the person needs wrapping in cotton wool, or shut out of things. But instead to treat people like people. Which is sometimes forgotten in this little corner of the world - I have seen it with my own eyes, and not been able to do anything about it. So one day, I will. One day, I will.

Time to... ?

Time to stop. Sounds abrupt. Very abrupt. To stop seeing her. Sounds scary. To stop going to appointments in psych town every week. Sounds like change.

But I'm thinking about stopping seeing my psychologist. I have seen her most weeks since last March I think it was. Nearly a year. I've changed since then. Lots.

It was never given a time frame, never said that I was going to only have 6 sessions, or 12 sessions, or a year. Just until I felt able to cope.

Now I'm thinking maybe I want to have that tie slowly released. We are currently doing some work about recognising where I am, and what course of action to take. Visual prompts to challenge my thoughts. Or to just get through the night. Or hour. Or 5 minutes. I reckon this is useful, and will probably be a useful thing for the future too. Like logic gates, or a flow chart. Useful, logical, detached enough from it to seem scientific, but actually having an emotional 'help' too.

Maybe seeing someone every week, to discuss the headcrap isn't useful? Maybe it is holding me back? Maybe I should stop seeing her? I'll still see the STR worker, she leaves in mid-May, and could be replaced. I'll still see the CPN, she comes once a fortnight. I'm not seen by a psychiatrist, as I refuse medication when offered it, and they aren't in a position to force it down my throat at the moment. I'll still be seen by the team, but maybe I should stop seeing the psychologist.
This help doesn't go on forever. It can't, and it won't. Maybe I should stop it now?


She said today, in a review I had with her and my STR worker (she is the supervisor of the STR worker), that she needs to know if I will say "I want to stop" as she knows I'm polite, and don't like saying negative things to others. (except, this isn't really negative! But it feels like I'm rejecting her... yep, I'm concerned for my psych's feelings about stopping seeing me! *rolls eyes*)

I know what makes me feel shit, it is generally what I have done for years, and slip into unknowingly when I take my focus off keeping going. I know what makes me feel better, the little things - getting to work, playing the piano for fun, bright coloured clothes, general stuff. Some 'crazy' stuff has a place in between the two, and needs deciding on at individual times - which is fine. The self-harm isn't always negative. The playing the piano in the dark and just playing moody improvisations isn't negative either. The crying at pictures of me as a baby isn't negative always, sure it means I need a cry, but it also means I can cry if I need to. The drinking isn't negative at the moment, but I keep an eye on it. When I feel able to, and need to, going for physically demanding bicycle rides up and down hills isn't negative - it gets rid of the energy. Case by case basis.

I think I have come too far to get back to where I was. When I was always in crisis, and unable to basically move without people watching in case I did anything. When I was much much heavier due to icky psych meds which weren't helping me at all, but instead made me into a drooling huge mess. When I would think nothing to staying in the house staring into space for literally days.

Maybe it is time to start living away from the MH stuff? The stuff which has dominated my life. It has made me who I am, but isn't my defining feature. It has defined my features, my life, but I'm more that the MH stuff. This is the life I have now, and I have to decide what to do with it. It isn't the life I wanted, it never will be, but I'm going to make the most of it. As I am not dead, and seem to have a resilient body that won't drop down dead, I better start living. Bugger, scary thought. But a positive one.

Looooong post

Set alarms early. Just in case the snow had gone, and I would get to my appointment. Woke up enough to snooze them/turn them off after about 5 post-snooze alarms, but was basically not going to wake up. I felt rubbish.

At the appointment time, Mum came in and put the phone by my bed, saying that she had spoken to someone at the office, and my psychologist will ring to check on me as we haven't seen each other since before Christmas (snow prevented last week's appointment too.) Psych rang. We spoke for about an hour on the phone, I was sitting in bed, still under the duvet, still in my pyjamas, still with a teddy under my arm. She didn't know those things though. Anyway, we spoke for ages on the phone. I said something (I forget what exactly, I don't assimilate auditory information well, that is why I avoid phones) and she got concerned. I have told her I'm not in danger, I'm not about to do anything, but she is worried. She booked a time for end of the week (shouldn't be seeing her again until next week earliest), and told me my CPN would ring later to discuss supporting me (I was meant to see CPN today too).

CPN rang to make sure I was safe, and to chat about stuff. She is going to come around in a few days to "check on" me, and to speak to me. If her car is not stuck in snow... She seemed concerned too.

One syllable (yes) to a question my psych asked me has led to this. A complete over-reaction. I'm not about to be found somewhere by the police, not now. For one thing, it is far too cold out there for me. Ok, stupid response, but I'm not going to be found by the police anywhere, and needing hospitals or ambulances or someone to take my body away, or emergency psych assessments. I'm not. So why are they doing all this "calm-panic" mode stuff?

In a normal week, I could have 2 - maybe 3 - bits of contact with the team. A psychologist appointment, a STR worker, and a CPN. The latter two tend to see me alternate weeks, psychologist every week normally. I don't see a psychiatrist at the moment, as I'm not on medication (my choice, after over 5.5 years of being medicated, I took myself off them, about 7 months ago). This week, I currently have 4 contact sessions planned/happened today, and my STR worker might ring if she can get through the snow.

I'm not complaining about all this support, I know I'm very lucky to get it. But it isn't hugely necessary, in my opinion. Let me just hope the crisis team aren't going to become involved, as I am not in anyway in a crisis.

I want to scream and shout "Go away, help someone who needs it" but they deem me to need the support.




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What I didn't tell any of them is how bad nights are. I said I'm using my normal strategies, and that I'm usually down at night. In the last week, I've either cried myself to sleep (I don't cry very often at all), written a lot of angst-infested splurge writing (again not often done), hurt myself, or just sat with things in my hands that I *could* hurt myself with for quite literally hours. I get to sleep eventually, and I wake up, feeling very empty of energy. My dreams/nightmares aren't particularly pleasant, and make me feel rubbish.
Psych couldn't understand why self-harm had reduced. It is because I can't trust myself to be "contained" and stop appropriately. Which I admit doesn't sound very positive, but isn't a huge issue.




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In positive news, everyone has gone back to school today. So I finally got some time in the day when I was alone in the house - that hasn't happened since months ago. I was looking forward to that last week, but snow meant people couldn't get out and about and leave me alone. It felt a bit like a little bit of freedom. Ok, so I couldn't go out, as the phone might have rung, or a parcel might have arrived (I've got a few things I'm waiting for, as have others), but I could do what I wanted. So I didn't have a big meal for lunch, and had it at 2pm, rather than midday. I played piano a bit, received a big parcel of music books (13 books, all with several [up to 150 in one book!] pieces in them - will keep me busy) and flicked through them once I had managed to rip off all the parcel tape and open the box in which they were contained.
I've been "stood down" from working tomorrow, as my boss has cancelled his medical appt. to run the class (the snow has meant the plans put in place to cover the class have not worked), which I suppose is good.
I've also just paid £62 for a driving practical exam for my younger brother. For my bank balance, I hope he passes this one (I've so far paid for 1 practical exam and his driving license...not a cheap idea) and it will also give him a bit of freedom for when cycling isn't an option. I'll do the same for my sister in a couple of years, so she doesn't feel like I've helped out him but not her. Sibling rivalry consists of what the oldest sibling helps both of them do, oh the joys.



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I'm muddled, basically. I've got lots to say, but words aren't coming out of my mouth in the right way, and people are taking my comments to mean different things. Apparently my voice has gone too loud and monotonic, and I look sad. Nice for them to tell me that, just what I enjoy hearing. *sarcasm*

So yes, I apologise for the length of this, but it has been a long day considering I haven't left the house, or done anything of particular use to outside people.