In retrospect, things are going really great for me right now.
I am back at college, I have great roommates, no stupid boy trouble, very minimum interjection from my family that causes me a lot of stress. I am in my first college play, writing every day in an attempt to be published, and I am the secretary at my college for the To Write Love on Her Arms chapter. I really am happy. I have 6 and 1/2 months SI free and I am feeling really good about that.
But then my self hatred will creep up on me again, along with my pessimism and all this junk that I’ve tried so hard to bury. I feel like I am…undeserving of where I am right now. I think that is the right word? Undeserving. I feel like I am doing the right thing by coming out about my issues, but what if I mess up again? It’s so scary to think that I could go back to the same place I was 7 months ago…or a year ago. I mean I’ve been “in recovery” for over a year now, but I’ve relapsed plenty of times. This is the longest I’ve ever gone.
Sometimes it’s hard for me to admit to even myself that I self harmed for two years. No, that’s not a very long time, but every time I tell someone just about my depression, they are so shocked. They are caught off guard and they say “What!? You?? You are so happy and outgoing and fun and hilarious…” and blah blah blah. Actually, one of my friends told me that he would have guessed that Snow White had depression before he’d guess I did. I’m nervous for what they will all think when they found out about the SI.
I want to help others with depression and self injury so badly. I want others to know that there is hope. But some days I get so down in the dumps that I’m the one who needs someone to tell me that there is hope. The past few days have been so rough and it’s been so hard to resist the urge.
The urge. Oh, how I hate the stupid urge to injure!! I don’t even understand it…it’s like a magnetic pull. It’s so hard to resist. Sure, I’ve gone 6.5 months without SI and the urge comes less often…but when I get the urge, it’s at the same intensity as it always has been!
I don’t know how much longer I’ll last…a day? A week? A month? A year? The rest of my life? It doesn’t even matter…what matters is that I will be fighting this addiction until the day I die. Where is the hope in that?
I know I’ll get out of this horrible attitude and realize how stupid I was to even think the way i am now…but these days are so hard. Especially when I have no one to talk to anymore…I don’t know how I’ve made it this long.