*8-11-98*
This is the first day of my journal. I hope I remember to write in it often. I feel alright now. The cut I made last time has healed. It looks kind of purple. I try not to think about hurting myself again, but it's so hard not to. I get feeling a little bad, and I think about getting the razor. I know that shouldn't be my first impulse, but it is. Sometimes I'm afraid to talk to other people because I think they'll brush me off. It's happened; I'm not just paranoid. I don't talk to my parents. I somehow feel that I have to live up to this image.
I wish I could see a doctor so I could get some medication. It would help I'm sure. I think I'm dysthymic, which is like manic depressive, but not as serious. Why would this happen to anyone? And why did it have to be me? Maybe one day I'll know. . . hopefully soon.
*8-12-98*
Today started out really well. I was up before noon, and I wasn't terribly tired like I usually am. One of my friends invited me over, and was going to go to my house so I didn't have to babysit alone.
I guess what turned a pretty good day into a pretty bad one was when my friend and my friend's sibling were coming to my house. They were arguing about when they would leave, and that made me feel terrible. I knew my friend's sibling wasn't feeling good and didn't want to stay long, but I also knew that my friend did. I felt so terrible hearing them argue and knowing that it was basicly because of me. It made me want to cry. That's what made me start feeling bad.
Then, my friend's heart started acting up. My friend has a little history of heart problems, but has not seen a doctor.
I then found out that the cuts my friend had on the arm weren't from the rose bush like I thought. They were self inflicted. This sounds terrible, but I was like, "Awesome. Someone I know that has the same feelings I do. This is neat!" I know I really shouldn't be happy that my friend has the same terrible feelings, but it's the first person I've met that I can relate to on this issue.
I have been trying to get my friend to see a doctor for a little while. It's just never happened. We were talking about stuff, and my friend said, "If I see a heart doctor, will you see a doctor for. . .?" We both knew what was being asked. I wish like nothing else that I could get help; that I could find emotional peace. I just can't bring myself to tell them. "Them" being my parents. It isn't exactly something that comes up in conversation all the time. I don't talk to them about anything, how am I supposed to tell them something so incredibly intimate? I just can't. But I wish more than anything else that I could.
*8-13-98*
It was so hard for me not to self injure last night. I think the only reason that I didn't is that my friend asked me not to. I don't know if I'm proud of myself though. I thought that I might be. I thought that maybe I'd feel better if I didn't hurt myself, but that wasn't the case. I layed in bed and cried and cried until I couldn't hardly breathe. I finally fell asleep after all the crying. I don't think it helped me any by not hurting myself. . . but maybe it did and I just don't see it.
*8-14-98*
I cut myself last night. I think that was the deepest cut ever. I could see the tendons and stuff in my wrist. I figured that it probably needed stiches since it was so deep, so I took a needle and some thread and stiched myself up. I didn't do a bad job either. It suprised me that sewing my wrist up didn't hurt at all.
I don't know exactly what triggered it this time. I spent some time with some friends. . . though not as much as I would've liked. That's what I hate most. Not knowing what made me do it. If I knew, it wouldn't be so hard to deal with.
I also found out that my friend took too much medication, and it was almost pretty serious. I'm scared that this might be done again, and that the medication might be toxic. Some medications eat away at your insides for a few days, and then you die. I hope and pray that doesn't happen. This is the same friend who self injures.
My friend is scared that a counselor might be brought into the picture. That happened once, and it didn't really help. I hope that it would help if my friend had to see one again. Life isn't easy for this friend, and it scares me. I found out that my friend almost commited suicide too. I'm so scared.
I'm glad that my friend didn't tell me all the details, because I wouldn't have handled it well. I usually hurt myself two nights in a row. That would mean that tonight is the second night I would usually self injure. I'll try not to because it somehow upsets my friend when I do, and I don't want to upset anyone.
I'm so incredibly scared.
*8-15-98*
I woke up at 2pm today. . . possibly because I cried for two hours last night. Crying takes a lot of energy. I haven't cried that hard in a long time. My eyes hurt, my arms hurt, my neck hurt, my stomach hurt, everything hurt.
I was crying because of my friend. I was afraid that I'd get a call in the night telling me my friend was in the hospital. Even though I was told everything was fine and that nothing was going to happen, I tend to worry a lot.
I hoped that I could see this friend today just so I could see for myself that everything was alright. I did get to see my friend, and I honestly think that things will be okay. . .at least for a while.
*8-17-98*
I took out my stiches today. They were just kind of bothering me. I know they most likely should have stayed in a day or two longer, but I didn't want to wait. It was time consuming keeping that thing clean. I put peroxide on it two or three times a day, and kept this anti-bacterial stuff on it all the time. All in all, it wasn't a terrible day.
*8-18-98*
Went to the orthadontist today. . . how I hate my braces. I also spent the day with my friend and sibling. Oh, we had to go to the library, and I found a book on mental disorders. I found out that I'm probably borderline. They call it borderline because when they named it, they thought it was really close to schitophrenia. (I can't spell) Isn't that fun?
*8-19-98*
I woke up at 9:30am today. That's realy good for me. I'm trying not to sleep in as much since school is starting and all. **Anyone who knows me might not want to read the next part since it's kind of personal** Okay, that being said, I woke up with the worst cramps! Ah! And than all day long I stayed in bed taking asprins by the dozens. It was not fun. Emotionally I felt better though, which is good.
*8-28-98*
Sorry I haven't written in so long. I've been busy doing some stuff with my youth group. But that isn't the important part.
I've decided once and for all to stop hurting myself. It'll be hard, but I think I can do it. I decided to do this because it was getting in the way of important stuff for me. Nothing that was said to me by others helped at all. . . I guess I just had to reach my own conclusion. My friends seem happy about it. I guess I am too.
Oh, I also told my mom about me probably being borderline. She said she'd look into counselors. I kind of want to go to one. I think it'd help me. It's good to talk to people. . . even ones you don't know.
*8-29-98*
Someone signed my guestbook and said something like "those who do their best have no regrets." I was thinking about that, and I honestly don't regret one second with that razor in my hand. I don't regret one second I saw my blood shed at my own will. I don't regret one single scar. Going through this has taught me much more than I ever could have learned without it. I am actually very glad that I have been a self injurer; despite hiding the scars, despite staining my socks, despite the way some turned me away when they found out, despite going against my friends' wishes, despite all the times I thought I was a freak of humanity. It's all been worth it for me. I wouldn't trade any of it away. That might not seem right, but I don't care. It's how I feel, and therefore it can't be wrong.