*trigger warning, will be discussing mental health & self harm*
2 years since I last self harmed. 2 years since I last inflicted pain upon myself. That’s one crazy thought.
Lets trace back a bit, to how I managed this.
It all started from as young as I can remember, before I even knew what I was doing. Before I knew what self harm was. I was young. All I knew is when there was too much sadness, I scratched. I didn’t know why. I just did.
Then a few years later, when depression hit, I was about 15, there was way too much sadness. There was more than sadness. So much that I felt no sadness, but just numb. I needed to feel something, anything. Then the younger self shone through… pain. Pain is a feeling. And that’s when it started, properly. That’s when the pain was intentional. I was aware of what I was doing. I needed to feel, so I caused pain.
It started little, then little became a lot. I don’t know when this change happened, it was slow but fast all at once. One here and there became 50. Little scratches became stitches. It was uncontrollable. An addiction.
But then it slowed down. Maybe I didn’t need the pain anymore. Maybe I wasn’t depressed anymore. Maybe I had a new distraction. But I didn’t reach for that blade for a long time. I didn’t need my little friend. I let my friend go. Wounds slowly healing. Fading.
Until things got bad again. December 2016 is a pivotal moment that stands out. That’s when things were bad. I lost my first love. I lost my best friend. I lost my job. I wasn’t doing well at university. I lost control. Control. That’s what I needed. Anything I could control. Everything was out of control, I needed just one thing that was in my control. That’s when it came back. The demon that disguised itself as a friend. Always there in the darkest times. I needed it. It was there for me for 5 years. It’ll always be there for me. So I let myself fall back in love with it. Just for the control it gave me.
I was convinced. Because of this silver little thing I had in my hand, I was in control and everything was okay.
But it wasn’t.
Now, detail is what I’m going to skip here, because I’m not ready to share the details of January 2017. But this was a waking moment for me. A moment in reality, the most alive I had felt when I was so close to death. I thought I was okay. I thought I had things in control. But I didn’t. Not at all. And I almost paid the consequences for this. But I didn’t. I woke up. I snapped back into reality. I wasn’t in control. This isn’t control. I needed help.
And that was it. I put the silver enemy in the bin. I got rid of it. I got help. I got actual control back. It wasn’t easy. Far from it. But I did it.
The silver blade I once called a friend is a distant memory now. All that remains are different sized lines, placed all over my body. Some covered with art. Some slowly fading away. I don’t need it anymore. That’s not to say that it doesn’t come back. Sometimes the memory gets so strong that on my weakest days the thought is overpowering, but I have control now. Every time the enemy comes knocking at my brain, convincing me that it knows how to help, “NO!”, I scream back, because it doesn’t know how to help. It gives an illusion that it’s helping. Illusions that can be so deceiving. But I have achieved so much without the silver enemy, and I won’t let it take that away from me.
So believe me this, when I say it gets better, it does. If you fight for it, and get help, you won’t need the silver enemy anymore. You’ll be free from it.
You are not alone.