To Write Love On Her Arms

Is a fantastic organization that I came upon when I went to the Anberlin/Bayside show last year. I understand the need for all these organizations for the homeless, for alcoholism, for drug abuse but none of them ever really spoke to me in any sort of way. Thankfully I have never had to deal with those demons. And many people do not seem to understand that cutting is for real. It is a battle that I deal with daily. It has been 5 years and a handful of months since I last ran a piece of jagged glass through my skin. Yet I fight everyday not to do it again. Not cutting oneself when the need is crushing down on you is a feat in itself. I always get the cutting is useless... it doesn't do anything... it's so stupid why would anyone do that. Why would anyone suck white powder up their nose... Why would someone drink themselves into oblivion... Why would someone beat the shit out of someone else???? These are questions that seem to be on par with why would you cut yourself? Why do we do it... because this is the way we have learned to deal with our problems. For me it has always been easier than talking to someone. Many years of therapy and psychiatrist trips that never worked out.

I miss that piece of glass so much... I liked glass more than a razor cus it was not as neat. Razors come in handy when you have nothing else but glass was what did it for me. This emotion, this anger, this pain gets built up in my chest and spreads to my blood and I just feel it boiling for release. Thankfully these days I just breathe and not speak for awhile and it eventually goes away. Last night was just unhappy and the hardest night I have had in a long time. I got through it... the tension is still in me but I am fighting. A couple months ago a woman came into the office and the first thing I noticed were the cuts on her arms... the doctor I work for thought she had been in an accident. I knew those cuts... mine are not as bad or obvious but I knew. In the doc's own words she "had never been exposed to something like that before." I laughed. I don't remember what started me cutting, I know it had to do with my mom and most of the time after I speak with her even to this day I still want to. But that piece of glass was sitting there and it went into my arm and carved out "I hate life" which I still have on my arm today. LOL teenage angst before teenage angst was cool.
I am proud of myself. Today I am proud of myself. I made it through a rough night that has been building up for many weeks now, but I made it through the night and the day dawned brighter. May be corny and laugh all you want but you will never know this struggle if you do not have a vice like this. I understand what recovering addicts go through... definitely not in the same manner or intensity but I understand the withdrawal and the fight to stay away from it. Enough for now...