Josh got me thinking, about all the really bad stuff I've dealt with. Okay not just some "really bad stuff" some real nasty shit. And when I say that I mean it. It wasn't fun, and as Josh said in his post, it's like a big haze, nothing feels real. Well, he doesn't say that but that's what it was like for me. It was just this maze, a confusing ball of feelings and a sickness kind of. A medicine induced sickness. Now, I mean it when I say medicine induced, I explained the whole story to my neurologist and he confirmed my worst fears.
For the longest time, I used to hurt myself, I called myself names, and just gave up on life, I had no hope. None at all. It was horrible, like drowning, no matter how hard you try you can't get it. It's like the worst kind of drowning. The kind of drowning where you're trapped inside a car. Hurting yourself, physically, is like a car crash, the same kind of car crash as drug abuse. It's terrifyingly addictive. I would know. I used to, I bear scars on my right wrist from it. There's a mantra that people who are like me, people I used to be like have:
Across the street not down the road.
Across the street. Across the wrist. Safe cutting. Well, no it's not safe at all, you can mess up using a shaving razor and I did and it was terrifying.
Down the road. Suicidal cutting. Down the road references the pathway of your veins. On my wrist you can see a little bump from the scar tissue. I could never forget it if I tried. Hurting yourself wears you out mentally, you sleep like a baby afterwards and it's a horrible thing. It takes a lot out of person, to actually bring yourself to take a razor to your skin and dig it inside of your body. It's gruesome and horrible and thank whoever your god is for not having to witness it.
And, for those of you reading this who hurt yourselves, I know that you're hurting, but think of the people who are close to you. I almost lost my best friend from those two springs that I was hurting myself. It's really quite an unattractive sight. I got lucky. For having such wonderful friends n junk. I know goopy silly romantic blah blah dribble dribble arse bull. But, they're pretty cool people and erm, yeah. Luckily for me, all of that haze, the depression was medicine induced. Spring is my growing period. And with some medications when your hormones get all wacky because of a growth spurt side effects from medications show up. Mine? I got depression. And hopelessness. Looking back, I didn't actually want to kill myself. It just seemed like an answer to stop all that. Luckily, my doctor noticed when we told him everything and he said what I was fearing: my medication was messing with my head. Making me reckless and compulsive and messing with my moods.
I'm switching meds now which is good... I guess. Who cares? Well... I probably should more than I do.
Well...
Shut up I'm talking.
For the longest time, I used to hurt myself, I called myself names, and just gave up on life, I had no hope. None at all. It was horrible, like drowning, no matter how hard you try you can't get it. It's like the worst kind of drowning. The kind of drowning where you're trapped inside a car. Hurting yourself, physically, is like a car crash, the same kind of car crash as drug abuse. It's terrifyingly addictive. I would know. I used to, I bear scars on my right wrist from it. There's a mantra that people who are like me, people I used to be like have:
Across the street not down the road.
Across the street. Across the wrist. Safe cutting. Well, no it's not safe at all, you can mess up using a shaving razor and I did and it was terrifying.
Down the road. Suicidal cutting. Down the road references the pathway of your veins. On my wrist you can see a little bump from the scar tissue. I could never forget it if I tried. Hurting yourself wears you out mentally, you sleep like a baby afterwards and it's a horrible thing. It takes a lot out of person, to actually bring yourself to take a razor to your skin and dig it inside of your body. It's gruesome and horrible and thank whoever your god is for not having to witness it.
And, for those of you reading this who hurt yourselves, I know that you're hurting, but think of the people who are close to you. I almost lost my best friend from those two springs that I was hurting myself. It's really quite an unattractive sight. I got lucky. For having such wonderful friends n junk. I know goopy silly romantic blah blah dribble dribble arse bull. But, they're pretty cool people and erm, yeah. Luckily for me, all of that haze, the depression was medicine induced. Spring is my growing period. And with some medications when your hormones get all wacky because of a growth spurt side effects from medications show up. Mine? I got depression. And hopelessness. Looking back, I didn't actually want to kill myself. It just seemed like an answer to stop all that. Luckily, my doctor noticed when we told him everything and he said what I was fearing: my medication was messing with my head. Making me reckless and compulsive and messing with my moods.
I'm switching meds now which is good... I guess. Who cares? Well... I probably should more than I do.
Well...
Shut up I'm talking.
