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since '11 August 11th
v0yag3r: if any of you are wondering why my blog has been inactive for almost three hours… this is what happened…  after losing two people I considered my friends, I fell. So far into depression I never thought I’d come out. I considered suicide many times. Once I had my razors back, I cut more than I ever had before. People left, they always leave. I push people away when I know I need help the most. They accepted the push.  I’m growing to accept it, because I believe everything happens for a reason. At first, I had no idea what that reason was. I’m slowly starting to figure it out.  I was moving furniture in my room today because I was anxious. Somebody here said some really rude things to me, and I let them get to me. I always let things get to me. Its so easy for peoples’ words to hurt me, and if I could change anything about myself, that’s what it would be. I would care less.  A girl on my floor came in to help me. I was wearing a tank top, not thinking about the purple scars on my arm. I’ve been 5 days clean, and for me, that’s a pretty big accomplishment.  She helped me, and we finished moving things, and we were talking about when I went to Costa Rica, and how life changing that was. I could see her looking at my arm. I could see the glances she was trying to take.  Finally, she stopped the conversation and asked, “what happened to your arm?” I knew that I would have to be honest. There’s no way I could lie. I told her, “I did this to myself. Thats why my friends left. They couldn’t help me, I pushed them away, they left, so I did it again.” She just looked shocked at me. There were no words in her mouth, and her stare was completely blank. I was hurting, but I couldn’t even imagine what was going through her head.  I told her I was in recovery, and that I was 5 days clean, and that for me, that was a long time. She just looked at me and all she could say was, “I’m so sorry.” I told her it was my coping mechanism. That it was how I was handling my stress, and that I have a psychiatrist and a counselor that are helping me.  She just stood there, baffled. But once I explained to her why, she said, “I mean, I just go to the gym. If you want to come sometime, when the stress is getting to you, let me know, you’re more than welcome to come along.” I just smiled. I knew everything was gonna be okay. She didn’t tell me I was stupid, and she understood it. That was honestly the greatest feeling in the world. I told her about the butterfly project, and asked her to draw one for me.  She started drawing, and a guy that lives on my floor came into my room. At first he was like, “Wow, when did the furniture get moved?” I just laughed and said that it was a recent thing. By then, the girl from my floor had finished drawing, and I had put my arm off to the side again, still ashamed of my scars. I knew I had to fess up.  I just looked him in the eye, and showed him my arm, with the butterfly on my wrist. His jaw dropped, and the look on his face, of pure shock, is something I will never forget. The only thing that he said was, “Oh my God.” I just wanted to cry. It was the first time that I realized that what I was doing had an impact on other people. It was the first time I realized how selfish I was about it. Not for hiding my scars, but for acting like other people didn’t care.  All I said was, “I’m okay now, but this is why I’ve worn long sleeves since I got here. I relapsed once I moved in.” I asked him to draw another butterfly. He drew it farther up, because he didn’t want it to fade as fast. He wanted me to stay strong for as long as possible. “I’m not drawing this somewhere where its gonna wash off in 2 days. Its gonna last.” I wanted to cry. I had the support I had craved for so long. I finally could find it within myself to stop cutting. To stop hurting myself.  We just sat in my room and talked.  About everything. I opened up about my parents, how my mom is in rehab, how my dad has been hospitalized trying to put me through school. Once I was honest, they became honest too.  I learned about their childhoods. How fucked up all of our situations were. It was really great to know that even though we didn’t all experience the same thing, we’re all here for basically the same reason; to better ourselves, for our families. And that pressure gets to us sometimes.  When we realized what time it was, and how long we had been talking, all he said was: “Everyone’s got their own story” Its so true. You can’t really judge anyone until you know what they’ve been through. You can’t even begin to try to understand them, if you don’t know what they’ve seen, the emotions they’ve felt.  So this is me, being honest with all of you.  I used to self harm, and I’m on the road to recovery. If you need ANYONE to talk to, I’m here for you. I will not judge you, and I will talk to you until the sun comes up.  I don’t want anyone to feel alone, because that is the worst feeling in the world. I know how much I hate the feeling of being alone, and I don’t want anyone to ever feel that way.  Take care of yourselves, and eachother.  <3
Posted: 3 months ago
27 notes

  1. classymuchacha reblogged this from h4te-chu
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  4. janoalyssa said: This is really really lovely. I’m glad other people around you support you. Stay strong, you’re really inspirational! x
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