Words, Poems and Recovery

**TW: contains references to self-harm.  Please proceed only if you are comfortable with the subject matter.**

For the first time in about 10 years, I’m throwing every last ounce of willpower I can muster into recovery.  This has had to start with cessation of SH-related behaviours, on the basis that coming out the other side of this thing is just not possible until I can exorcise what is an inherent discomfort with myself and the person I am.  But, although I’m slowly being released from under the control of a constant drive to engage in self-harm and it’s inevitable string of consequences, although I seem to be (finally)  ‘kicking my habit’, I’m finding it difficult to complete day-to-day tasks such as making my bed, or cooking a nutritious meal.  I’ve also lost my fluency with words, which is why I’ve been less devoted to my blog, and more likely to pickup my journal and a pen.

Which brings me to my point.  I’ve been messing around with poetry recently; more specifically, I’ve been challenging myself to write a haiku every day.  This gives me a chance to write something, play around with language a little, and also keeps my mind ticking over.  Anyway, last night, for various reasons, I found myself in a state of heightened anxiety.  As is usual for me in these circumstances, I felt an excruciating urge to lash out (at myself).  Instead, I put my headphones on, picked up my journal, and wrote this series of five haikus:

What I wouldn’t give

For a shiny blade with which

To part crawling skin

 

The deep, booming base

Drowns a million racing thoughts.

I can breathe again

 

Emotions are not

Permanent; they pass like clouds

Riding a wild sky

 

I am not a slave

To anxiety; it is

A mere hitch-hiker

 

Wow! Look what I did.

Nothing broken, no harm done;

A benign release

 

 

 

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