Just one step at a time

I burnt myself - deliberately - for the first time 2 nights ago. I didn’t realise, until I found this site, that I’ve been self-injuring for the last 13 years. At least. As a kid I was always picking at scabs, and I’m a nail biter (though I stop every so often, and it’s now rare that I bite right down to rawness, I pick at the cuticles and skin around my nails. They’re ugly!).

But I remember the day when I started. I was at Uni. I was trying to wax my legs for the first time, because short-sightedness, heavy-handedness and razors on legs don’t go together, and my room mate couldn’t cope with my wincing. So I was left with partially done legs. And a pair of tweezers to pluck the rogue hairs out.

And then I guess I realised there was a certain satisfaction in the pain of pulling the hairs out. I was depressed during most of my 3 years of Uni, I now realise had been for years before, and probably still am at a low level now.

So now, give me a pair of tweezers and I’m happy. I can create a whole heap of scabs, because sometimes the hairs are stubborn, sometimes they’re growing UNDER the skin and need to be dug out, and then there’s the last lost of scabs that need to come off. It’s become a habit. It doesn’t serve the purpose of dulling any obvious pain anymore. But it does serve the purpose of reinforcing my low self esteem and unworthiness. It keeps me from getting close, because who’s going to want to love a fruit loop with scabby, ugly legs?

But I did tell the guy from work what I’d done, with a little of the history, and he didn’t run away screaming. And has been in touch since! So obviously not everyone is as shallow and flaky as I expect them to be!

Of course, I’ve picked all 12 blisters from the burning incident, which will satisfy my dual “enjoyment” of picking, and will (hopefully!) leave a whole bunch of scars. Because I love scars: they always have a story, and can often be quite sexy. (The chef has one under his eye from where he was stabbed in a fight when he was a teenager. It’s sexy!) And even though I’m looking at them and can see they’re most definitely infected, part of me is looking forward to them scabbing over properly so’s I can rip the scabs off.

Because I think scabs are ugly, and even though I’ve done the cell biology at degree level and know that if you remove the scab another will form, the subconscious part of me believes that removing the scab will get rid of the problem. And then I just deal with the next one in the same way. Until eventually I’m too tired or distracted to pick and it gets a chance to heal properly. Or at least doesn’t form a pickable scab.

But I intend to see my GP this coming week, as now I’ve done something more serious once, I could do it again. This is obviously already an issue. I don’t want the new level of self-injury to become the norm. Hopefully he or she will put me back in touch with the mental health worker and we can go from there.

I’m actually a lot brighter today! I spent the morning in bed, psyching myself up to go out this evening to a birthday do where I’d only know a few people. We went to a kids’ jungle gym that they hire out to adults in the evenings, and I can’t remember the last time I had that much clean, childish fun! And I remember how I was actually a fairly happy, confident child. Until about the age of 9 when we moved.

But that’s a story for any therapist I end up with.

Am working my way through the comments section of http://asbojesus.wordpress.com/2008/04/17/443-444/ which is helpful.

Sometimes there is something about physical pain that just helps. It’s been a crappy week. Dunno why, just has. Then I burnt my arm taking pizza out of the oven. Just the one burn. But… Well, it felt, not good, just felt. Just felt. Felt real, there, present.

And so…

I’m fine. Things are just getting to me a little.

But he was pierced for our transgressions,
he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was upon him,
and by his wounds we are healed.
Isaiah 53:5

Warning: this post shares a bit too much. Particularly for boys.

Read more »

I’ve never gone quite this far, but have been tempted on occasions. I understand why people do it. Sometimes things hurt inside so much that you need to mask the pain. Some people drink. Some people take drugs. Some people have sex. Others keep fit. Others diet or overeat.

There’s also an element of self-despising. When you don’t value yourself, you can’t see that you’re made in God’s image. You can’t see that you need to respect yourself, and that part of respecting yourself it keeping yourself fit and healthy (not going to extremes). Part of if is about relationships as well. You think you don’t deserve to be in a relationship, so do things to yourself which make you ashamed, keep you away from relationships. It’s a coping mechanism. Of sorts. And it backfires.

But then it becomes a habit. And habits are hard to break.

Images: The Ongoing Adventures of ASBO Jesus

I saw this on Postsecret. I didn’t send it. I should have done.

It explains why I never ask for healing prayer anymore.