Thursday, June 16, 2005

Actually I'm not OK

Have you ever had lots of good things happen to you at the same time (The Live 8 tickets, the Museum internship next year, going to Barcelona, losing weight through devious methods.) but you still feel crap. Partly because you don't feel you deserve it, and partly because you just feel like shit.

I was purging last night after eating dinner (frankfurter, cheese, baked beans, toast) and a lot more blood than usual came up. I knew it was a superficial cut, but I needed to talk to somebody and I couldn't talk to Ria as she was so happy. Not just yet.

I called Samaritans (they must know my voice by now, the amount of times I've called them). And it was this London guy who sounded 38 and had just come off the training line for he was coming at me with ideas. But of course, as a seasoned veteran I had seen through these ideas. I can never understand telling a very depressed person to get up, and give the scissors which they are addicted to, to move and push themselves physically. To in effect, transfer from one addiction to another. After all, these days I'm so tired I haven't been able to revise properly, since I just can't sleep.

I'm not ok. As time goes on, as you try things like self-affirmation techniques, self help books, doctors, psychiatrists, school/college counsellors, purging, exercise, or just trying to bloody well get over it. As these don't work the Salesmen plant a thought in your brain that this mad woman, this woman with at least 200 cuts on her body, this person who thinks nothing of hurting the person she loves most (Ria) and her closest friends (Nik, Alice) repeatedly. The person who's supposed to be gifted but is really a fat bitch who can't look at herself in the mirror without bursting into tears or slapping herself. This person with an emotional attachment to a pair of scissors. This person who is giving up. Is this me forever? Is this me forever?

I don't know. Ria doesn't know. The Samaritan guy doesn't know: he gets annoyed that I can't be fixed. I need to love myself, to like myself, and when is that supposed to happen? How? When?

How much longer do I have before I become Me, this thing - whatever forever?

How do I change?

I miss Ria already. Ria, you know what I said. I love you too much to lose you. Barcelona...

1 comment:

CarpeDM said...

Crap, crap, crap.

I was hoping you were doing better.

Look, yeah, the Samaritan doesn't know you and his ideas sound like they are stupid because physical exercise is not going to make you give up cutting. But you need to do something. This is obviously not healthy.

Isn't it enough that you cut yourself? Why do you have to purge as well? I'm getting extremely worried about you, Betty. Please, please, please look into talking to someone or seeing if you can get a prescription. What if all of this is the result of a chemical imbalance like my depression is?

You don't have to go through this for the rest of your life. There might be something that will help. Please look into it. I'm getting really scared.