Trigger Warning: self harm
I have a habit of thinking things to death. It seems I want to devour each experience whole, to savor every drop of possibility. More, I seem to believe it is some sort of inadequacy on my part if I cannot share every level of thought and emotion. A wannabe film director projecting snippets on the wall, who become distraught when others can piece the entire story line together.
It isn’t fair to you nor myself.
I open with this because it is the reason I have waited nearly a week to write this post, and honestly, I might not have started it now if I didn’t plan on having a long discussion with my therapist about it.
So, what happened?
Last Saturday I had a major crisis. A monster came out from under the bed and devoured me before I could even scream.
A little mellow dramatic? Maybe.
From the beginning I knew it was going to be a bad day, it’s just one of those feelings you get without being able to say why. It started out as mild depression, maybe a bit of a pity party, then it took a very nasty turn.
Before I knew it I was considering self harm, cutting my arms so the blood could flow down my hands. Then writing my birth name on the wall over and over again. I can still see the trails of red staining the dinning room walls… then it escalated. I wanted to strip the flesh from my hands and use the ruins to cover the house with that name, to force it into my head that name was me… the real me.
I thought my head was going to explode.
There was so much rage… that’s the only word for it, rage.
I wanted to hurt.
I wanted to only see red.
I wanted to bleed out.
My whole body was shaking. It was everything I could do not to tear at my flesh, to rip it off with my nails.
I want to punch something, anything, hard enough to break bones, to cause pain which I knew was real and not just in my head. I almost slammed my head into the wall just to stop all the thoughts crashing through my brain.
I don’t know how long this went on, I lost track of everything; the hour, the day.
Suddenly I was exhausted. I could barely stand.
I don’t remember going to bed.
This is just skimming the surface of what I experienced… I could write for days, word after word and still I could not convey the totality.