Monday, Feb. 09, 2004
Discusses self-injury. You have been warned. ::hugs::
Zach is much better today. Whew.
I...I don't know how I am. I'm on a double dose of Ativan right now, so my equilibrium is shot to shit. This is absolutely fucking ridiculous.
It's almost like I didn't even try to fight it. I laid on the couch reading for awhile, and since there was a screwdriver nearby I spent awhile scraping with that. Once Zach was in bed, I switched to a knife. One cut, but deep (easier to hide with a bandaid). I hate that it felt good. Very good.
I've come to realize that I do this to dissociate. I used to think it was to keep myself connected, and it used to be. Now it is to shut off my emotions. It is much easier to deal and focus on a little pain than the emotions. I went to bed and tried to sleep, but it didn't hurt anymore and I couldn't calm down. I actually got up and rubbed salt in the wound. It helped a little because I could focus on the burning sensation and not my panic. This with two ativan in my system. I finally wrapped myself up in the covers and refused to allow myself to get up, even to pee. I knew if I did I would be at it again. It wasn't a terribly bad cut for me. Bad is when it's still oozing the next morning. I wanted to keep going and going. Had I gotten up, I would have cut again. I would have grabbed that screwdriver and used the handle to beat the crap out of my legs. (My fist doesn't do enough). I would have gone looking for lemon juice instead of salt.
I'm better this morning. Mostly disgusted with myself. And very scared of what I might have done.
I'm going to see my pdoc this afternoon. He has to do something, even if it's only giving me something better than the fucking candy he apparently prescribed last time.
Talked to my dad about it a bit, but not much. Hey, we swap head-case stories all the time. But I couldn't call him last night. I couldn't call anyone last night. The list of people to call is exactly two long: Dad and Zach. Zach was puking up his guts, and Dad...well, how much sense is it going to make to call him at 11:30 at night to tell him that I have a knife in my hand? He can't do anything, and there's no way in hell I'm letting Zach know, so I'm stuck. So it's just me.
Wish me luck with my pdoc this afternoon. (Or pray, or send good vibes, or happy thoughts, or whatever you do when you wish someone well). I am not at all happy with myself right now.
~Em
--->Comment allez-vous?<---
break this - Tuesday, Mar. 01, 2005
long time no post - Monday, Feb. 28, 2005
give me a little credit - Thursday, Nov. 18, 2004
blink-free - Thursday, Oct. 28, 2004
end of days - Thursday, Oct. 14, 2004
