Sliding Backwards

TW: contains references to self harm.

So after spending so much time and energy working on reducing my SH behaviours, I’ve had a bit of a rotten week.  In fact, it’s been one of those weeks which serve to remind us how volatile life with mental illness can be, how easy it is to tip the scale, to go from coping to not.  Probably much to the annoyance of everyone who asks, there has been no one trigger.

When I wrote Urges, I was most likely already planning my regression into the world of SH.  I had certainly bought the necessary paraphernalia, I had restocked my supply of dressings.  What else was I planning to do with it?  And so it was that I finished up in A&E last Friday morning, having a wound sutured by an apathetic Doctor, who probably had much better things to be doing with her time.  If I’m to be honest, and that is what this blog is about, right?  Me being truthful about my life with mental illness.  I have cut myself pretty much every day since then and am back at the stage of having wounds checked and redressed every other day.

I’m beyond frustrated about this.  I feel like a…, what was that controversial sentence from a while back?  Oh, yeah, “a disease burden” on the NHS.  I feel like a drain on resources.  Only today, I went to the surgery in a blind panic because I was feeling ill and had myself convinced I had an infected wound (I know, the ultimate paradox right?  Being paranoid about a self-inflicted injury!).  Turns out I only have a viral illness causing a sore throat and swollen glands.  I fee angry at myself for bothering people with such trivial problems, for having let myself slide so far back and for not having the wherewithal to implement my Crisis Plan sooner.

Anyway, despite the current resentment I feel at this, another Intervention has taken place.  My cousin has taken everything harmful from my room.  My cousin, without whom I would be a mess right, or worse, now.  A week or so ago, feeling particularly bad, I sent her a text to let her know I was feeling desperate and that I wanted someone to wave a magic wand and take it all away.  This is the response I got:

“…I wish I had that magic wand.  I’m sure it’s there somewhere though and it’ll just take us a bit of time and effort to find it…God likes to challenge us (or whoever is up there!) let’s keep searching together…”

How can I give up, with someone rooting for me like that?

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