TW: contains mild references to self harm.
For me, yesterday marked a full fortnight since I had self-harmed. For what its worth, its still too much hard work for me to recognise any achievement in this. I’m having to put my Crisis Plan in place most days…in fact I’m putting it in place whether I feel I need to or not, because its the only way I can manage right now. I’ve had loads of support from my cousin, who also knows the details of the Plan and how to validate my distress and encourage me to employ some of the tried and tested coping skills that I have. I’ve also had immense support from the online MH community, a lot of whom struggle with the same emotions, urges and compulsions. For all of this I am grateful.
It is with a heavy heart, therefore, that this morning I have to admit that my two week run has come to an end. Last night, there was an exchange between my Mum and I that, to anyone else, anyone without emotional difficulties, Depression, Anxiety…would have been forgotten about before it even took place. But it somehow sparked something in my brain, something very sudden and intense, a chaotic jumble of emotions that demonstrated how volatile my situation is. I could no longer sit still, every square inch of my skin itched, I lost concentration on the blog post I was writing (parked for now). All at once I could think of nothing but harming myself, and resented the ‘intevervention‘ that took place a couple of weeks ago, an exercise that was now denying me the only thing I knew would ease the situation (albeit in the short-term). Anyway, not to be outdone, I scanned my room for an alternative ‘tool’ which might temporarily relieve the now burning itch…and, yes, I found something.
So, there, two weeks clean and my first relapse. I’m not proud of it, nor do I want it to justify another, and then another, until I’m back at square one. But it has reminded me that one doesn’t simply decide to ‘quit’ and that’s the end of it. It requires constant effort, a chore that is never done and it really doesn’t take very much to tip one back over the edge. In fact, emotionally, I’m as unstable as Nitroglycerin…tread very carefully.