It’s been four days… Four very lengthy days. Four days where I want to give myself a little bit of credit over… I haven’t cut myself in four days. I really had hoped I never would have to say those words out to the universe because I thought if I withheld them long enough, they would have simply just been a bad nightmare. It’s still been a nightmare, just one that’s been very real and not just in my dreams. I want to say I wish I had no recollection of it happening but I have it clear as day in my mind. The very same mind that’s been hurting and suffering in a tag of war between sanity and slipping.

One of the hardest things I have felt in the recent couple of weeks is sitting on the edge of so many queries and trying to wrap my head around why I would feel or in this case not feel the need to hurt myself. It’s been as foreign to me as it would be to anyone else. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would come to this but it’s here now and its my struggle.

I haven’t been kind to my mind because I felt like it wasn’t being kind to me. Maybe I should not have turned it into a war between myself and my mind. Maybe if I had offered myself enough love, I wouldn’t be forced to look at cut marks on my wrist every morning of every day. I have a lot of maybe’s of how I wish things could have turned out different.Writing about this right now poses such an anxiety to me. I’m doing the very thing that despite how numb I have been for the last few weeks, I have offered to feel one thing and that’s fear. Fear of how people would soon look at me different for what I have been doing to myself. Fear that I may be slowly and steadily loosing grasp of rational thoughts and putting in place my irrational actions.

Sometimes the stigma doesn’t have to come from everyone else, sometimes it comes from ourselves. I want to hate myself, I already do for what I am doing. I wish I could say I had the knowledge to switch it off but I feel like my hands are tied behind my back.

Cause I know I’m only human, don’t know how many sunsets I got left. And I don’t want to ruin, this moment by wondering what comes next. I just want to love me, like its all am living for. Hold myself close ,enjoy me more and spend a little less time Keeping Score.

15 thoughts on “Keeping Score

  1. It’s honoring for you to display your weaknesses like that, truly I admire, hope you eventually find the peace you seek. Fear is a better emotion than lacking any, at least you are aware,. Al the best angel.

  2. *Hugs* Oh, yes, that feeling that if you hurt yourself, you’ll at least feel something, combined with it helps the outside pain reflect the inside pain. It’s a terrible, hellish, no-man’s-land of misery. I worry about you, Sweetie. While I’m completely unsure of how things work in your hometown, I know that if you ask for help here, you can get it. It’s not always pleasant or easy, but just remember, if there were a way for me to walk through this Valley with you, holding your hand and reassuring you – we’d be together.
    4 days is a great start. Sometimes it’s just that baby step of “Well, I’ve already gone 4 days… I can try for another 10 minutes, another 10 minutes after that” and so on…. You’re in my prayers with the focus on healing and peace. You are loved – don’t forget that.

  3. I have so much faith in you, My Sister – and I call you that because you’re walking a path that I’ve walked. It’s… well, I’m not going to make any calls out to any one faith, but I DO feel that sometimes the worst versions of a Hell are what goes on inside out own heads. It can be incredibly difficult to verbalize, or even accept that “No, not everyone feels like this”. If every person spend a day living in this bubble, not knowing when they’d be free, I think we’d have a lot more compassion for people with mental health struggles.
    Keep fighting it. One moment at a time. When you feel your weakest, remember you have another sister – waaaaaaaay over in Texas who is holding out her hand to help you out of the quicksand. )And possibly ask you to hold a cat or three) If you have the resources or the materials, I’ve found that doing something productive with my hands (knitting, painting, etc) allows me to express and process some things, without the need to harm myself. It’s weird, but since my hands are busy, they aren’t going for the stuff that hurts.
    You’re not alone. You are loved. You were created by something Holy (again, regardless of your faith – trying to be respectful here) and you are worthy of joy and goodness.

    **hugs**

    1. You are amazing. Your are honestly my glimmer of hope whenever am in my lows. Thank you so much. I wish we could connect on a more personal level because I get so much comfort from you. I look forward to reading your comments. I honestly feel like you understand me in such a way no one else has and for that I treasure you. Your sensitive in everything you tell me, I can feel your love and immense affection all the way in Kenya. I was just recently thinking of how amazing it would be to talk to you more often just to get your reassuring words as often, if possible right before my relapses.Your an amazing person and I honestly love you so very much

  4. I’m glad I can help some. It would be utterly lovely to be able to chat or just sip something and people watch – I can see the two of us giggling over something silly (the so called “Battle kittens” who must pounce upon leaves comes to mind).
    I’m going to tell you this truly, Love. You are not the only one who battles these horrid demons, who fights to stay connected to the world and it’s beauty. There are people who are physically closer to you than I am, and you are going to have to take that leap of faith and reach out to them. I can offer words, and hope and understanding, but being this far away…. *sigh* Of course, I wouldn’t object to being in Kenya – I might even learn some new language! (And lose my idiotic American arrogances!)
    So, this is what we’re going to do. I’m going to get off MY butt and FINALLY make an appointment for a new counselor since my beloved font of kindness is retiring in a few months. You, my Sister, are going to reach out to the people you feel can best help you. (Again, I have no idea about insurance or mental health clinics or any of that outside the States, and that makes me sad.) We’re going to hold each other up, to the light, and we’re getting through this nasty swamp. We’re going to be honest with the people around us; no matter how hard it is, or how many tears we shed. If those people don’t support us, we go to the next ones, and so on until we find stable ground.
    I don’t know if you do the “pinkie promise” thing in Kenya – in a way it’s kind of considered childish, but in another way it represents how very serious kids can be about something very simple. In this case, asking for help. I’ve got my pinkie out…

  5. I’ve called and left a message for the new therapist, and for the referral required. It’s like adulting! **hugs**

  6. It’s not exactly prioritized here either – it’s one of the reasons our homeless population is so high. It’s far cheaper to “Treat ’em and street ’em” than it is to make sure they are on their meds or getting the help they/we need. Even if you have insurance, finding someone who will accept a new patient is difficult, and sometimes you just don’t mesh well with them. Still, we gotta try. 💗✨😍

      1. I hope so. I feel very hopeless right now. I don’t know where to start now that I feel emotions. I am confused and lost about where to start. I’m thinking of looking up mental hospitals to enroll myself in until I remotely feel better. It’s so overwhelming.

  7. If that is what you feel is the best, the safest, and smartest thing for you to do – then do it. No one is going to think less of you for taking care of yourself, at least not the people that matter.

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