So its nine o' clock, I'm about to get a mood drop, and I'm sick, and I'm watching Cyber Bully, so I wanted to rant about something: doing something you know could trigger you.
In the movie, the girl goes on her page, where she KNOWS people are saying mean things, and that she'll get upset. This happens in real life, too. If you go on YouTube and look up "Cutting" or "Self Injury" or anything related, I guarantee that you'll see a few videos titled with something like "Cutting scars (TRIGGERING)".
For those of you that don't know, a "trigger" is something that could trigger sadness, suicidal thoughts, etc. When someone labels a video as triggering, they are saying "I am making it clear that this is dangerous for those vulnerable to depression. Watch at your own risk".
So some people go ahead and look at their triggers anyway, myself included. Sad songs, cutting videos, SI pictures, all this stuff triggers me. So why do I still look at it? I don't know. I guess it could be that I want to see if I can see them and be okay. Other people, I think, want to drag themselves down. Like when people take downer drugs, I guess. Is that what those do? The last time I studied drugs was when I went out with a jerk.. xD
But anywho, do you guys have triggers? And if so, what are they, and why do you keep looking at them?
Saturday, July 30, 2011
30 Day Self Harm Challenge: Day Five
Day Five: What is your least favorite part of self harm?
I guess how much it hurts those around you, and how you know that it could kill you. Because as much as you like it, if you did it wrong, or tried to get just a little bit more pleasure by going deeper, it could kill you. Even if you don't want to die. If it bleeds more than it usually does, you get scared.
And I hate that it hurts Romeo and Heather and everyone else. Though I've already said that in one of these.
I guess how much it hurts those around you, and how you know that it could kill you. Because as much as you like it, if you did it wrong, or tried to get just a little bit more pleasure by going deeper, it could kill you. Even if you don't want to die. If it bleeds more than it usually does, you get scared.
And I hate that it hurts Romeo and Heather and everyone else. Though I've already said that in one of these.
30 Day Self Harm Challenge: Day Four
Do you consider yourself addicted? Why or why not?
I do. Its so hard not to do it when I feel like it. If something makes you upset your immediate reaction is to do it again, and then you have to try to resist. Because once you feel the relief it gives you, you want that relief every time you get upset, no matter how bad it is for you in the long run.
I do. Its so hard not to do it when I feel like it. If something makes you upset your immediate reaction is to do it again, and then you have to try to resist. Because once you feel the relief it gives you, you want that relief every time you get upset, no matter how bad it is for you in the long run.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Six thirty sick rant.
So its six thirty in the morning, I can't swallow anything solid, and I was thinking about something that annoys me: people who think depression and mental health issues can just be stopped on will.
Now, I'll admit that I used to be one of these people, until I got some of those myself. For those of you that don't know, I have depression and anxiety, which are both a lot worse than they sound. Depression is basically when you're really sad for a long time and can't be cheered up for good. Well, you can, but with treatment. And anxiety is, I think, where you live in a state of high pressure for a while and it starts to take a toll on your mind with panic attacks.
A panic attack is possibly the most terrifying and horrible thing I've ever experienced. But if you want to know more about that, look at this: http://sparklesrainbowsandselfmutilation.blogspot.com/2011/07/my-story-part-three.html
I love my mother, really I do, but I think that she thinks that I can just STOP having anxiety and depression by "not focusing on myself". Well, mom, the thing about that, is that there's something wrong with my brain, and not my attitude. I'm not focusing on myself, my brain is. My brain is thinking about all the bad things in the world and how high everyone's expectations are and how I can never meet them and it starts to get to you, you know? I can't just stop. There are chemicals in my brain that cause these feelings of sadness and I can't control it. Would you say "Its just diabetes, get over it."? Because how I see it, diabetes is a life long disease that affects how you live your every day life, just the same as depression and anxiety. You can't shrug it off, as it is in your blood. This is in my brain.
I'll shrug it off when they can.
Now, I'll admit that I used to be one of these people, until I got some of those myself. For those of you that don't know, I have depression and anxiety, which are both a lot worse than they sound. Depression is basically when you're really sad for a long time and can't be cheered up for good. Well, you can, but with treatment. And anxiety is, I think, where you live in a state of high pressure for a while and it starts to take a toll on your mind with panic attacks.
A panic attack is possibly the most terrifying and horrible thing I've ever experienced. But if you want to know more about that, look at this: http://sparklesrainbowsandselfmutilation.blogspot.com/2011/07/my-story-part-three.html
I love my mother, really I do, but I think that she thinks that I can just STOP having anxiety and depression by "not focusing on myself". Well, mom, the thing about that, is that there's something wrong with my brain, and not my attitude. I'm not focusing on myself, my brain is. My brain is thinking about all the bad things in the world and how high everyone's expectations are and how I can never meet them and it starts to get to you, you know? I can't just stop. There are chemicals in my brain that cause these feelings of sadness and I can't control it. Would you say "Its just diabetes, get over it."? Because how I see it, diabetes is a life long disease that affects how you live your every day life, just the same as depression and anxiety. You can't shrug it off, as it is in your blood. This is in my brain.
I'll shrug it off when they can.
30 Day Self Harm Challenge: Day Three
Three: What is your motivation to recover?
Well, there are lots of things. Daley, because I know it makes her sad, Heather, because I know that she cares and I THINK it makes her sad.. I'm not really that sure that any of my other friends that know care.
Another thing is just wanting to get better, because having to hurt yourself to feel good is hell. I hate it, and you usually try to get rid of things you hate. And yes, it is hard to stop completely, though it is possible. Its an addiction, just the same as someone who does drugs and can't stop.
Well, there are lots of things. Daley, because I know it makes her sad, Heather, because I know that she cares and I THINK it makes her sad.. I'm not really that sure that any of my other friends that know care.
Another thing is just wanting to get better, because having to hurt yourself to feel good is hell. I hate it, and you usually try to get rid of things you hate. And yes, it is hard to stop completely, though it is possible. Its an addiction, just the same as someone who does drugs and can't stop.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Every day at nine o' clock.
My mood drops. For some reason, its always at NINE. O. CLOCK. I'll just be sitting there watching TV and all of a sudden the world gets substantially darker. Seriously. And most of the time, I almost relapse. A few times, though not much anymore, I thought about that. Yeah, you know what I'm talking about. But don't worry guys, I'm not going to do it. It just frustrates me that this is, like, a routine thing.
My Story: Part Three
When I left off, I said that life had thrown another curve ball at me. That curve ball? My well intentioned, but slightly misguided mother.
You see, I had been doing better because of my medicine. So what would make me feel worse? A lack of medicine. And that's just what I got.
When I ran out of my first bottle of Prozac, I was expecting that my mother would take me back to the doctor to get a prescription for more. But, she didn't. And whenever I asked her, she would get OFFENDED. So I ended up being without it for a month and a half, feeling myself sink into the same, black little pit I had been in before.
The depression came back, that much I expected. But what I didn't expect? Anxiety attacks.
Now, I could give you a dictionary description if anxiety attacks, but I don't think it gives the full effect as well.
Envision this: you're doing something perfectly normal, like sitting in class, where you've never had bigger problems than having to pee or boredom. Suddenly, you get this severely sick feeling in your stomach. That's the gastrointestinal distress. Then, it gets really hot. That's the heat flashes. You think that something bad could happen at any second. Wait. What's wrong with your heart? It's palpitating. You must be having a heart attack. That's possible, right? Wait. What's that? Oh god, you're going to die. You're going to die. You're going to die. You've never been so afraid in your life. You need to escape. You need to get somewhere safe. You need to focus on something. Your brain is moving way too fast. You need to scream. But won't that be embarrassing? Won't everyone think you're crazy? You know there's no danger, but you can't believe yourself. Everyone says there's something to be afraid of. Every alarming news headline from the past few months comes rushing back. Bombings. School shootings. Tornadoes. Anything could happen at any minute. Why is everyone still sitting here? You need to be somewhere safe. But you can't leave. Just distract yourself. That'll get rid of it. You're not going to die.. You're not going to die.. You're not going to die..
And that is as close to describing a panic attack as I can get. You get really scared, and think about all the bad things that could happen. Of course, there's no way that that stuff could happen, but your brain can't process that at the moment.
This has also happened to me in big crowds. Particularly concerts. It's crowded and loud and if something bad were to happen and you screamed, people would just think you were into the music. The lights and movement and volume don't really help the situation, either.
When my youth group went on a trip to a Christian camp, there were concerts by some guy named Aaron Keyes that I had never heard of. The first night we were there, I was all energetic and hopping around like a lunatic, but pretty soon I started to fee really, REALLY sick, and had to sit down and curl up in a ball. The next morning, which was way too early for a concert, I left about five minutes in to calm myself down. That night, I did the same.
But on the third or fourth day, I apparently stayed just a bit too long. Because when I went into the preaching when the concert ended, I still couldn't handle it. Every little noise was irritating. There was a girl behind us eating a little bag of chips and every time it made a noise I almost cried. Eventually, I curled up in a ball and cried. Why was I freaking out? There was nothing to be afraid of. But like I said before, I couldn't believe that. I ended up going outside and crying on a bench until it was over and my youth group came out.
But anyways. The biggest two things that make me freak out: the weather, and the news. You see, my town was one of those hit by those HUGE tornadoes a while back. So now I automatically think of the bad things that could happen when it starts raining. One day at school, it had been overcast for a few weeks, and boy was that horrible.
But onto the news: It scares me. Why is there never any good news? And when there is good news, why do bad things come out of it? For example: the death of Osama Bin Laden. Good thing, right? Wrong. What if Al Qaeda got angry and decided to attack us? After all, we did kill a huge icon. So for a few weeks after that, I was constantly scared of going out to big cities and what not, and I refused to watch the news.
But you can calm yourself down from panic attacks. I can do that now by distracting myself, talking to Daley, or doing this little breathing exercise. However, when I was new to the world of anxiety, I calmed myself down by cutting. Why? It made me feel more in control of the situation. If I can't control our impending doom, at least I can control this, right? And it was something to focus on. The blood, mostly. 'Course, the blood was my favorite part of cutting due to depression too.
You see, I had been doing better because of my medicine. So what would make me feel worse? A lack of medicine. And that's just what I got.
When I ran out of my first bottle of Prozac, I was expecting that my mother would take me back to the doctor to get a prescription for more. But, she didn't. And whenever I asked her, she would get OFFENDED. So I ended up being without it for a month and a half, feeling myself sink into the same, black little pit I had been in before.
The depression came back, that much I expected. But what I didn't expect? Anxiety attacks.
Now, I could give you a dictionary description if anxiety attacks, but I don't think it gives the full effect as well.
Envision this: you're doing something perfectly normal, like sitting in class, where you've never had bigger problems than having to pee or boredom. Suddenly, you get this severely sick feeling in your stomach. That's the gastrointestinal distress. Then, it gets really hot. That's the heat flashes. You think that something bad could happen at any second. Wait. What's wrong with your heart? It's palpitating. You must be having a heart attack. That's possible, right? Wait. What's that? Oh god, you're going to die. You're going to die. You're going to die. You've never been so afraid in your life. You need to escape. You need to get somewhere safe. You need to focus on something. Your brain is moving way too fast. You need to scream. But won't that be embarrassing? Won't everyone think you're crazy? You know there's no danger, but you can't believe yourself. Everyone says there's something to be afraid of. Every alarming news headline from the past few months comes rushing back. Bombings. School shootings. Tornadoes. Anything could happen at any minute. Why is everyone still sitting here? You need to be somewhere safe. But you can't leave. Just distract yourself. That'll get rid of it. You're not going to die.. You're not going to die.. You're not going to die..
And that is as close to describing a panic attack as I can get. You get really scared, and think about all the bad things that could happen. Of course, there's no way that that stuff could happen, but your brain can't process that at the moment.
This has also happened to me in big crowds. Particularly concerts. It's crowded and loud and if something bad were to happen and you screamed, people would just think you were into the music. The lights and movement and volume don't really help the situation, either.
When my youth group went on a trip to a Christian camp, there were concerts by some guy named Aaron Keyes that I had never heard of. The first night we were there, I was all energetic and hopping around like a lunatic, but pretty soon I started to fee really, REALLY sick, and had to sit down and curl up in a ball. The next morning, which was way too early for a concert, I left about five minutes in to calm myself down. That night, I did the same.
But on the third or fourth day, I apparently stayed just a bit too long. Because when I went into the preaching when the concert ended, I still couldn't handle it. Every little noise was irritating. There was a girl behind us eating a little bag of chips and every time it made a noise I almost cried. Eventually, I curled up in a ball and cried. Why was I freaking out? There was nothing to be afraid of. But like I said before, I couldn't believe that. I ended up going outside and crying on a bench until it was over and my youth group came out.
But anyways. The biggest two things that make me freak out: the weather, and the news. You see, my town was one of those hit by those HUGE tornadoes a while back. So now I automatically think of the bad things that could happen when it starts raining. One day at school, it had been overcast for a few weeks, and boy was that horrible.
But onto the news: It scares me. Why is there never any good news? And when there is good news, why do bad things come out of it? For example: the death of Osama Bin Laden. Good thing, right? Wrong. What if Al Qaeda got angry and decided to attack us? After all, we did kill a huge icon. So for a few weeks after that, I was constantly scared of going out to big cities and what not, and I refused to watch the news.
But you can calm yourself down from panic attacks. I can do that now by distracting myself, talking to Daley, or doing this little breathing exercise. However, when I was new to the world of anxiety, I calmed myself down by cutting. Why? It made me feel more in control of the situation. If I can't control our impending doom, at least I can control this, right? And it was something to focus on. The blood, mostly. 'Course, the blood was my favorite part of cutting due to depression too.
30 Day Self Harm Challenge: Day Two
What part of your body is most affected by it?
I'd have to say my left arm. There are some on the street, but mostly I cut on the top. But I started on the side. Complicated, I know.
But yeah, most of my scars are on the top of my arm. The most visible ones are the ones where I used a tape dispenser, the less visible are from a razor blade. And the biggest one on the street is from a piece of glass.
But I also have other parts of me affected. Like my thighs, where I cut like, two or three times. Then my upper arm, where I thought it was easier to hide but couldn't get enough blood, and my hip, which was really not very pleasing at all.
I'd have to say my left arm. There are some on the street, but mostly I cut on the top. But I started on the side. Complicated, I know.
But yeah, most of my scars are on the top of my arm. The most visible ones are the ones where I used a tape dispenser, the less visible are from a razor blade. And the biggest one on the street is from a piece of glass.
But I also have other parts of me affected. Like my thighs, where I cut like, two or three times. Then my upper arm, where I thought it was easier to hide but couldn't get enough blood, and my hip, which was really not very pleasing at all.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
30 Day Self Harm Challenge: Day One
Day 1: How long have you been self-harming? Discuss why you started
I don't self harm anymore. I have officially been a week clean today, and the time I did it last week, it was a fluke. It didn't give the same relief as it did before. But I'm guessing that I had done it two months before I got caught, a month and a half when I was off my meds.. so about three and a half. Plus a few days here and there.
But anyways, the reason I started. Quite honestly, I hated myself. I hated how stupid I was, I hated how I couldn't do anything, I hated how boring I was, I hated how frustrating I was to other people, I hated that I was a pest. So, I decided to express the pressure and self loathing through cutting. And now here we are.
I don't self harm anymore. I have officially been a week clean today, and the time I did it last week, it was a fluke. It didn't give the same relief as it did before. But I'm guessing that I had done it two months before I got caught, a month and a half when I was off my meds.. so about three and a half. Plus a few days here and there.
But anyways, the reason I started. Quite honestly, I hated myself. I hated how stupid I was, I hated how I couldn't do anything, I hated how boring I was, I hated how frustrating I was to other people, I hated that I was a pest. So, I decided to express the pressure and self loathing through cutting. And now here we are.
Has anyone else ever
Ever wanted to scream for no reason? Like, where you literally had to hold your mouth shut to keep it from escaping?
Monday, July 25, 2011
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Relapse.
So, yesterday, I broke a glass, and while I was cleaning it up I accidentally hurt my thumb. I felt the pain and I saw the blood, and before I could think twice about it I had stolen a piece, washed it off, and used it on myself.
Did it feel as good as it always had before? No. I felt guilty. I thought I was disappointing my mom, and Romeo, and my crazy-doctor, and myself. It made me absolutely hate myself.
But, now I realize that since it was a letdown, I don't need it anymore. I don't have to be tempted by it because it doesn't bring the same relief and pleasure as it did before.
So guys, the moral of this story is, don't act on your impulses, and don't let hurting yourself be your only option for feeling better.
Did it feel as good as it always had before? No. I felt guilty. I thought I was disappointing my mom, and Romeo, and my crazy-doctor, and myself. It made me absolutely hate myself.
But, now I realize that since it was a letdown, I don't need it anymore. I don't have to be tempted by it because it doesn't bring the same relief and pleasure as it did before.
So guys, the moral of this story is, don't act on your impulses, and don't let hurting yourself be your only option for feeling better.
Friday, July 15, 2011
My story: Part two
Hey guys, remember me? I hope the last part of this wasn't too weird for you, because I have started this, and now I'm determined to finish it. So here's the second part of My Story.
Now, when I left off, I talked about getting caught. So I guess I'll talk about that.
I got caught on a Tuesday (or maybe it was a Monday.. one of those.) and I remember because we had an academic bowl meet that day.
Here's what happened: as I said before, my math grades weren't the best anyone has ever made, so I was asking my teacher if I could have some extra credit. Apparently, one of my bracelets had slipped up and you could see my arm. I noticed she kind of stared at it, but I was hoping she'd ignore it. Fortunately, she didn't. A minute later she called me back over to her to push up my bracelets, and asked me what happened. I lied and said my dog did it, but apparently I'm a bad liar. And she's a good one, because I bought it when she shrugged it off.
So about two classes later, in science, I got called down to the guidance office, where the scariest thing in the world was awaiting me. Our school guidance counselor. Ms. Frye(ghtning..). She is quite possibly the most horrible person to be interviewed by about your problems. Because for one thing, I'd guess that she is around my mother's age, who is 54, and she tries to act like she's 21. And the only things she has in her shelves is anger-management work books. I do not have anger problems. I have depression problems :P
So the first thing she does is make small talk like I don't know why I'm here, and then it goes like this:
Her: A teacher says she's worried about you. Do you cut yourself?
Me: o.e ...
Her: Will you take off your bracelets?
Me: *take off bracelets*
Her: Do your friends know about this? Do you ever cut together? Are you trying to kill yourself?
Me: Yes, no, and no. Can I go now?
And that's pretty much all that happened.
Now, after it had been a week and my mother hadn't said anything about it, I started to think that I was safe and that I wasn't going to get dragged away to a nut-hut. But, one fine Thursday, my mother picked me up from school and took me to a counselor who was MUCH better than Ms. French-Fryes. At first I would have done anything to NOT BE THERE. I said as little as possible, and cried as little as possible. Then, she told me that I had a chemical imbalance, which basically means that the happy chemicals in my brain are less abundant than the sad chemicals, so I can't help that I'm sad. Then, she sent me to a doctor and I got a prescription for ten milligrams of Prozac.
Surprisingly, it helped me. Very much. And I even stopped cutting for a while. But that was just until something ELSE happened.
Now, when I left off, I talked about getting caught. So I guess I'll talk about that.
I got caught on a Tuesday (or maybe it was a Monday.. one of those.) and I remember because we had an academic bowl meet that day.
Here's what happened: as I said before, my math grades weren't the best anyone has ever made, so I was asking my teacher if I could have some extra credit. Apparently, one of my bracelets had slipped up and you could see my arm. I noticed she kind of stared at it, but I was hoping she'd ignore it. Fortunately, she didn't. A minute later she called me back over to her to push up my bracelets, and asked me what happened. I lied and said my dog did it, but apparently I'm a bad liar. And she's a good one, because I bought it when she shrugged it off.
So about two classes later, in science, I got called down to the guidance office, where the scariest thing in the world was awaiting me. Our school guidance counselor. Ms. Frye(ghtning..). She is quite possibly the most horrible person to be interviewed by about your problems. Because for one thing, I'd guess that she is around my mother's age, who is 54, and she tries to act like she's 21. And the only things she has in her shelves is anger-management work books. I do not have anger problems. I have depression problems :P
So the first thing she does is make small talk like I don't know why I'm here, and then it goes like this:
Her: A teacher says she's worried about you. Do you cut yourself?
Me: o.e ...
Her: Will you take off your bracelets?
Me: *take off bracelets*
Her: Do your friends know about this? Do you ever cut together? Are you trying to kill yourself?
Me: Yes, no, and no. Can I go now?
And that's pretty much all that happened.
Now, after it had been a week and my mother hadn't said anything about it, I started to think that I was safe and that I wasn't going to get dragged away to a nut-hut. But, one fine Thursday, my mother picked me up from school and took me to a counselor who was MUCH better than Ms. French-Fryes. At first I would have done anything to NOT BE THERE. I said as little as possible, and cried as little as possible. Then, she told me that I had a chemical imbalance, which basically means that the happy chemicals in my brain are less abundant than the sad chemicals, so I can't help that I'm sad. Then, she sent me to a doctor and I got a prescription for ten milligrams of Prozac.
Surprisingly, it helped me. Very much. And I even stopped cutting for a while. But that was just until something ELSE happened.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Three weeks clean
So, today marks the day that I've been cut-free for three weeks. I don't know about you guys, but I'm pretty proud of myself. I used to not be able to go more than, like, a day. Go me :P
BUT I almost had a relapse last night. Its probably because I was watching videos on YouTube that were clearly labeled as "Triggering"... Yeah, not the best idea. I guess the sight of the cuts and scars and stuff and the fact that I'm a STATISTIC made my wrist miss my sharp stuff. (Can you say morbid?) So I ran to Romeo, and she, ever the hero-in-shining-Woodstock-shirt, talked me out of it.
So thankfully, I was able to get this far.
BUT I almost had a relapse last night. Its probably because I was watching videos on YouTube that were clearly labeled as "Triggering"... Yeah, not the best idea. I guess the sight of the cuts and scars and stuff and the fact that I'm a STATISTIC made my wrist miss my sharp stuff. (Can you say morbid?) So I ran to Romeo, and she, ever the hero-in-shining-Woodstock-shirt, talked me out of it.
So thankfully, I was able to get this far.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
My story: Part one
So as I said in my first blog, I have a habit of hurting myself on purpose. Hence the "Self Mutilation" in the title. Now, there are many kinds of self mutilation (otherwise known as self harm, or self injury.). Bruising, cutting, burning, hair pulling, etc. Personally, I cut. The rest just didn't appeal to me.
I guess I'll talk about how it started.
I had been feeling down for a while, what with my math grades falling and the ridicule and judgement from my parents and a few of my friends, and just plain old low self esteem. So as I searched for a way to make myself feel better, I started looking at stuff about cutting. There was a movie called To Save a Life, where one of the characters cut to feel better. Demi Lovato was discovered as being a self-harmer. And one of my friends had been cutting for a while. So I connected the thought of relief, with pain.
Now, that might have been a foolish thing to think, and it probably was. But, I wanted to find out for myself. So on January 21, 2011 I took the sharp, rough edge of one of those plastic valentines to the side of my arm, where it was really boney.
When any cutter just starts out, they adore the feeling and want to do it more, just like a druggie. But once you get addicted, all you want is to be able to stop. That is one very big thing that I didn't realize. One of my friends told me that, and said that if I stopped, she'd try to as well. But I didn't take her up on that offer, though I probably should have for the both of us. Because now she's much worse than she ever was.
But back to the story. At first, I didn't do it deep enough to bleed, just enough to feel it, which is all I really needed at the time. But as it progressed, I had to have it bleed for it to be enough. Eventually, it didn't really hurt anymore, and I was just in it for the blood. At that point, I had started doing it with the sharp metal part of a fancy tape dispenser that I had taken out. I kept it hidden in plain sight, because I could just clean it off and put it back in the tape dispenser when I wasn't using it and nobody would suspect anything.
I guess I was TRYING to get caught, to a point. And eventually I did, but that is a story for another time.
I guess I'll talk about how it started.
I had been feeling down for a while, what with my math grades falling and the ridicule and judgement from my parents and a few of my friends, and just plain old low self esteem. So as I searched for a way to make myself feel better, I started looking at stuff about cutting. There was a movie called To Save a Life, where one of the characters cut to feel better. Demi Lovato was discovered as being a self-harmer. And one of my friends had been cutting for a while. So I connected the thought of relief, with pain.
Now, that might have been a foolish thing to think, and it probably was. But, I wanted to find out for myself. So on January 21, 2011 I took the sharp, rough edge of one of those plastic valentines to the side of my arm, where it was really boney.
When any cutter just starts out, they adore the feeling and want to do it more, just like a druggie. But once you get addicted, all you want is to be able to stop. That is one very big thing that I didn't realize. One of my friends told me that, and said that if I stopped, she'd try to as well. But I didn't take her up on that offer, though I probably should have for the both of us. Because now she's much worse than she ever was.
But back to the story. At first, I didn't do it deep enough to bleed, just enough to feel it, which is all I really needed at the time. But as it progressed, I had to have it bleed for it to be enough. Eventually, it didn't really hurt anymore, and I was just in it for the blood. At that point, I had started doing it with the sharp metal part of a fancy tape dispenser that I had taken out. I kept it hidden in plain sight, because I could just clean it off and put it back in the tape dispenser when I wasn't using it and nobody would suspect anything.
I guess I was TRYING to get caught, to a point. And eventually I did, but that is a story for another time.
Friday, July 8, 2011
About me
So, since my BFF Romeo made one, I guess I should make one too.
I have purple ear plugs cause I don't like noise.
I have like, fifty empty cans of Dr. Pepper lying about this room.
I have a half empty bag of trail mix in front of me.
I have an odd fetish for classical music.
I downloaded Friday because I halfway like it.
I am watching Fosters Home for Imaginary Friends.
I am very short.
I am older than Romeo, but she is still taller than me :|
BUT I'M CUTER!
I lose every pair of glasses I get within three months.
I heart Pixar movies.
I run with scissors.
Adult scissors.
:P
Romeo quote ^
I am eating the cashews and chocolate out of my trail mix.
Romeo's weird little people that live in her head are my BFF's.
Allen is my sassy gay friend.
Though he claims he likes Molly..
I heart Pooh-Bear.
I do not say Winnie-the-Pooh.
That is for squares.
Like Romeo.
I have purple ear plugs cause I don't like noise.
I have like, fifty empty cans of Dr. Pepper lying about this room.
I have a half empty bag of trail mix in front of me.
I have an odd fetish for classical music.
I downloaded Friday because I halfway like it.
I am watching Fosters Home for Imaginary Friends.
I am very short.
I am older than Romeo, but she is still taller than me :|
BUT I'M CUTER!
I lose every pair of glasses I get within three months.
I heart Pixar movies.
I run with scissors.
Adult scissors.
:P
Romeo quote ^
I am eating the cashews and chocolate out of my trail mix.
Romeo's weird little people that live in her head are my BFF's.
Allen is my sassy gay friend.
Though he claims he likes Molly..
I heart Pooh-Bear.
I do not say Winnie-the-Pooh.
That is for squares.
Like Romeo.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
So, I've never really blogged before..
So, my name isn't actually Juliette, but I don't want any of you creepers, (Yeah, I saw you outside my window.) to come into my house and kidnap me or anything, and my friend liked this name, so I picked it.
But enough of that. My "crazy doctor" suggested that I start a blog to tell my "story", so I did. As you can probably see from the title of my blog, I like pretty little girly things, and I used to hurt myself on purpose. Now, I'm not sure that I can truly say "used to", because it was only two weeks clean yesterday. But, I don't feel like seeing my own blood every time something irritates me anymore, so I'd say I'm almost completely better.
I'll tell you guys more about that later. In the meantime, my friend "Romeo" (she is a girl, surprisingly..) told me to give her a shout-out. So, here it is.
HEY LOSER, HERE'S YOUR STINKIN' SHOUT OUT. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW? JEEZ, GO MAKE ME A FREAKING SAMWICH.
Sanwich.
Sandwitch.
SANDWICH. THAT'S IT.
Now go make it.
But enough of that. My "crazy doctor" suggested that I start a blog to tell my "story", so I did. As you can probably see from the title of my blog, I like pretty little girly things, and I used to hurt myself on purpose. Now, I'm not sure that I can truly say "used to", because it was only two weeks clean yesterday. But, I don't feel like seeing my own blood every time something irritates me anymore, so I'd say I'm almost completely better.
I'll tell you guys more about that later. In the meantime, my friend "Romeo" (she is a girl, surprisingly..) told me to give her a shout-out. So, here it is.
HEY LOSER, HERE'S YOUR STINKIN' SHOUT OUT. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW? JEEZ, GO MAKE ME A FREAKING SAMWICH.
Sanwich.
Sandwitch.
SANDWICH. THAT'S IT.
Now go make it.
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