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I Thought...I thought I could just stab myself 25, no 27 times…. That’s it “27”. I don’t even want answers any longer. Their is no real explanation now is there Perhaps I wasn’t meant to be alive past my age. Thinking of bleeding from 27 different wounds that I inflict myself. Numbing with one stab wound after another. Not even giving time for the blood to come to the surfuce from one to the next. Ranging in depth and thickness. Not noticing until I am through the amount of blood seeping onto the floor. Feeling no pain at all. Just a satisfaction to see all the blood. My blood that I wouldn’t want anyone else to ever see. Why? Because the instant reaction is this. SHE’S FUCKING CRAZY! People never look beyond the external. Pure and simple, they do not care. I wanted to do a survey and at random. Walk down the street of our tiny little town and ask: Hi, How are you? and follow with: Do you know I thought about dying today! I wanted to get an honest answer. Perhaps it would be: I know how you feel, I thought about it too. However, 80-90% chance the response would be FREAK. You need HELP and the police would be called. Forget the sympathy what about empathy ? Do we just not CARE? Am I just your TARGET?
Tags: 27 Self Injury
I am no longer scared. I never knew really what the cutting was about. I had thought as a teenager that it was normal to use a tack, a nail or a knife to carve into my skin. To see the blood. I can remember sitting in the window, watching outside at what seems a busy life for some. For me I was just [There]. I felt as if no one saw me, could hear me. Not even me. I stopped cutting for many years. Until one December night in the late nineties. Even then I couldn’t tell you why I did it. I wanted to blame everyone around me. It was their doing, in my mind. The only thing that would have been better for me would have been. That someone else was holding the knife that stabbed me. I do know this though. At the time, I felt anger and hurt, not having a thing in my life in the realm of control. Almost like a depth perception. Trying to help but always missing. It was then I myself could understand. It felt good. It was warm, the blood it was a relief. My body felt no pain anymore. I can remember the bloody foot print. The horror that felt when I thought I could actually bleed to death. Because that wasn’t what it was about at all. Years later, I understand what it’s about now. Self Injury is more common then people even realize. Am I a freak? No! Am I crazy? Only as much as the next person. I do know what it is about now. March 1st is Self Injury Awareness Day. The support ribbon color is orange. If you know someone that injures themselves. Show support, listen for a day. Don’t push them. Let them talk!
Tags: Self Injury
There needs to be an active community approach to strengthen awareness about mental health concerns. I am going to be completely open and honest in regard to my mental status. I have Chronic Post Traumatic Stress Disorder as I have stated in my last post. There was a recent episode in which my medication was switched around. I had been working through specific trauma related issues, and have had limited coping skills. The NYS Police responded to a call placed by one of my counselors. I had mentioned that I had thoughts of hurting myself. No I did not want to die. I just didn't want to feel that way. The Troppers arrived and asked if I knew why they were here. I was surprised and quite upset. They explained they had gotten a call from my counselor. He was concerned for my safety. The tropper stated that I had to go with him. I said "No, I am not going anywhere." He again stated that I must put shoes and a jacket on and that I had to go. By this time there was three troppers here and they had threatened to handcuff me and carry me out of my house. I screamed at them and asked if they have ever been raped or molested? I stated "If you want to help me, call a pastor, call a priest and have them pray with me." They said they cannot to that. So I either had to go with them willingly or forced. So I got dressed and went with them. While I was put in the back of the cop car like some criminal, the thoughts and feelings flood me. The men that molested me, the man that raped me. They are out walking the streets. Perhaps looking for the next victim. Here I sit in a cop car and made to feel like it is a crime to feel shame and violated and hurt and anger associated to the flashbacks. When we got to the barracks, they were going to handcuff me and put me in the front seat of a cop car with a male police officer. I said NOOOO you will not! So a woman officer took me to the hospital. I was kept for overnight observation and was transported to another hospital. The same hospital I was in and had a trauma related issue with. While there I did learn a new coping skill. There was a teaching nurse that said. I would really like to see you get mad at "What you are mad at!" It's ok to have anger about the flaskbacks and feelings. My Question to any of you is this: Was Justice being made on my behalf?
Tags: Justice Awareness Help
I wanted to share with you the letter I wrote to the Editor of "The Post Star".
I am writing in response to “Wounded US Troops return to Iraq to find closure” I would like to express how hard it is emotionally to revisit those old wounds. For those who have suffered with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Our minds have revisited it over and over again, without prompting it to do so. The nightmares, terror, smells, sounds, vibrations and visuals are triggers we never asked for. It is not often talked about. I have been living with PTSD for two years. I have revisited places of trauma, spoke with others involved and have dealt with numerous professionals. There is a huge Stigma involved for the emotionally wounded. Why? I ask why? I didn’t lose a leg, I didn’t lose an arm. I don’t have scars on my face. As a matter of fact, I wasn’t wearing service cloths. I wasn’t in Iraq, I wasn’t even a US Troop. I was a victim in a different war. A civilian on US soil, a child who never asked to be abused verbally, physically and sexually. As an adult I never asked to be raped. I didn’t ask for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and neither did they. When you go four miles in, you must come four miles out. It’s hard to do. It takes every bit of courage, faith, and strength to be a survivor. It’s the fight we can never give up! Let’s keep going! Love, Forgiveness and Peace… I will keep you in my prayers, God Bless!
Tags: A Different Kind Of War Stigma PTSDRape Abuse
I made a poster about Stigma with ripped up pieces of magazines. Words, photos and a deeper meaning of who I am. What has my mind and heart turning gears with a few broken spikes.
This is the story in the poster, my story! Left to right. -------------------------------------- When day meets night felt like I can't get through without Love and Hate running out of hope and running out of patience was overwhelming self-esteem is a major issue I first got into I'm not Pretty I do what all women do. I think. I blame myself. I marinate in my failure. I hate myself for my feelings. Sometimes I cry. More often I stare at the ceiling and wonder what is wrong with me. And it has you tired. Life can be uncomfortable Not to self: Don't let symptoms interfere with your life. Run for your life In the eyes of the world, I was a bitch. I did not let people tell me what to do, and I never wanted to be an alcoholic, drugs, high, stoned again, sex Discuss these topics with your Now what do I do? The one. The only. Dr. Phil: "Trust me, This is not something you can do based on willpower alone" Her Best Shot My unlocked heart, Music and writing was my last chance walking the long road back The woman who could be more then a pretty face of the world. Calling world peace To be continued......
Tags: Mental Illness Substance Abuse Sexual Abuse Inner Beauty Vs Outter Beau
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