Friday, February 27, 2015

Battle scars

Okay so January 2015 is missing from my blog because I was in the hospital. I was there for 4 ½ days and while there January bled into February so this is a winter baby of sorts. My posting for January was unfinished and after coming home I didn't see the point of posting it for January when it was clearly February and... you get the point. Anyway, I'm back and who knows what will come flying off my fingers into the world of blog land so hold on tight this will be a bumpy ride.

WARNING: This post has info that may be triggering. If you have an addiction to self injury or any self injurious behaviors, this months blog may cause problems for you. Proceed at your own caution.

My addiction to hurting myself (Yes, that's right. It's an addiction) is a struggle that is more than just an every day reality but has morphed into this monster. I mean, think of the ugliest color one can imagine (Go on. I'll wait ) now imagine that it's clinging to every inch of your being, not just your body. It's thick like tar and when you think you've scraped some off you turn to scrape some more off and it grows back solidified and more tenacious. It crawls from your mouth, leaves its dark seeds on your pillow at night to sprout heinous ideas of yourself through your ears and into your brain and no matter how much you try it trickles and spreads it's tentacles around you and you become this drunken marionette under it's power. That my friend is what an addiction is and it sucks putrid hose water!

I am a burner. I burn myself with many things. Usually a candle and a bobby pin are involved. It's very ritualistic and I think that my OCD may contribute to that aspect. Yes, I feel it. Yes, it hurts. I'm not in some type of trance when It happens. It becomes it's own leech like creature that craves me and I'm at times too weak to resist. That has happened recently and I try hard every day to avoid falling down that rabbit hole. This time I tried to tell myself that it wasn't that bad because I burned the words “HELP ME” on my arm. I was after all asking for help in my own twisted little secret way. It wasn't as bad as the other words I'd done in the past. Just grab a thesaurus and look up the word worthless and assume all those and a plethora of others have been singed on my abdomen, arm and thigh. I wear a lot of long sleeves when going through those times.

I'm not sharing this information in hopes of gaining pity. I don't want it. I have enough of it.
That's the difference between pity and compassion: Pity just feels sorry! Compassion does something about it.”- unknown

I challenge you whether your pity is being wasted on yourself or someone else, be proactive and expand yourself. I plan to do that today. Showing compassion for the self is a difficult thing for me. Baby steps are the process. It also helps me to show and be more compassionate towards others. That's important to make this world better. Before you think I've gone all rainbow colored glasses on you, know that this is my oath to personally make my world better for the people I love and care about and that process includes (gulp) self care. Now I shall wrap this up and rub healing oil on my self inflicted wounds because that is how I would care for a friend.

Pity and friendship are two passions incompatible with each other” - Oliver Goldsmith