TW: moderate references to self-harm.
Referring back to On A Knife Edge, I think most people would say that I’m doing ok at the moment. And I am, for the most part. I’m now running two blogs, drawing, reading….so, on the face of it, I’m being productive and trying hard to move forward. God knows, I need to believe that there is more than this. What would happen to me otherwise?
However, despite all of this, despite me appearing to coping better with the challenges of every day life and knowing when to pull the brakes on time, I can’t get rid of the monsters in my mind. I can’t quieten the voices of those niggling little pests that put me down, tell me I’m useless, a burden, remind me of all the things I can’t do. They seem entrenched right at the core of my brain, where they can take control of everything, send my thinking into overdrive and spinning out of control. They rear their heads at random, ambush me when I least expect it. I can handle them for a while, and then they win. I become angry and frustrated until, eventually, I lash out, turn my emotions inwards and hurt myself. The scars on my arms represent the scoreboard of the away team, a mark for every point gained by the opposition.