**TW: contains moderate/strong references to Self-Harm and associated behaviours. Please proceed only if you are comfortable with the subject matter.**
So yesterday I had the sort of day that one might compare to a roller-coaster. My emotions and thinking patterns were up and down, back to front, upside down…
The day started quietly enough. A quick cup of tea with my Cousin on her Birthday, followed by an appointment with the Nurse. I’ve been putting everything I have into resisting urges recently. But not because I am frightened at the extent of my injuries, or how easily the outcome could be very different, not because of the ‘Russian Roulette’ nature of what I do. I’m battling with my own mind and everything it tells me to do because I can’t cope with the reaction my behaviour gets from the rest of my family. Sometimes, I think it would be easier if I were alone with this; decisions would be made much easier.
Anyway, things went ok with the Nurse and I went home for a bite of lunch before nipping over to my Cousin’s (Sister of ‘the’ Cousin) to participate in tea and cake. Things got hectic quite quickly (understandably so when there are three children under 4 present!) so I didn’t wait long. As I drove home I allowed my mind to wander a little too freely, feeling a bit bad at the way I left…I don’t like it to be obvious that I struggle in company and I think it was yesterday.
Upon returning home, I went straight to bed and slept for the next two hours. When I got up, I felt a little brighter and wandered through to the kitchen, where my Dad instantly rebuked me for scratching at my healing wounds. At this I saw red…they itch because they’re healing, they’re healing because I can’t cope with the non-understanding of (among others) my Dad. Instinct tells me daily that I should be hurting myself, sabotaging this, quite frankly, hideous body I feel so trapped in, relieving some tension in my head and down the back of my neck…but I resist for one reason only…the people I love. I snapped, told my Dad I would scratch if I wanted to and he walked away, looking wounded. Great.
So that brings me to guilt. I strive to respect my parents at all times; I am, after-all, living under their roof, unemployed (albeit for good reason) and, all things considered, they’ve put up with a lot in recent years. So I immediately apologised, but he didn’t seem impressed. At this point I decided to quit while I was ahead and return to my bedroom where no conflict takes place. I have a new technique for blocking everyone and everything from my World…LOUD music streamed from headphones. Sometimes I draw at the same time, sometimes I do a crossword, sometimes I just enjoy the music.
Knowing how such exchanges can feed my urges, or behaviours, my Dad popped in soon after to put things right between us…not much point in holding grudges over whether or not I scratch myself, right?
Dinner was passable. My Brother’s Girlfriend joined us, making it easier for me to disguise the fact that I didn’t eat the nutrition that was on my plate. The extra chatter and ‘let’s all pretend Louise is normal’ effort worked in my favour for once.
I always feel better after dinner. I can go to my room and stay there until bed time, no one expects anything from me and my space is my own. On reflection, yesterday was a typical, tumultuous day in terms of my emotions. I often wonder if my mood swings around more than I let on…