Right now, I am battling. I don’t know why, or even if there is a reason for this battle at all. And I feel like a pathetic whinger for putting this out there. For not pulling my socks up and carrying on. But right now I cannot just carry on. My urge to self harm has always been limited. I binge occassionally, and I don’t eat that healthily. Once upon a time I used to pinch myself but when I realized it was self-harming I stopped. But for the past couple of days I have had the urge to hurt myself.
Partly, I think I have had this urge as a way to feel real, to take my mind off the shadowy thoughts running through the back of my mind. To silence the voices that tell me that I am worthless, stupid and pathetic.
I know I am not…but knowing and feeling are not the same.
In Neverwhere, by Neil Gaiman, there is a scene where Richard is in a railway station and is fighting for his sanity, fighting to not hurt himself, and right now I take a great deal of solace in that. In finding the courage to just hang onto the bead in my pocket moment by moment and just not give up. Even if it means that I don’t have the energy to do anything else.
I hope that my loved ones will understand and forgive me this weakness, the fact that this week I have not been able to keep my promises that this week all I have been able to do is hang on and make sure I don’t give up on me and hope. That I just put one foot in front of the other as exhausting as it is.
Rage Against The Black Dog 