I also have the reminance of a minor migrain to deal with.
Neil won't be going to college in a few hours I don't think...
Since i'm writing an entry, I might as well make it worth your while reading. Before I do, however, I want to give a small warning to one or two people I know who read this. If you are very easily triggered by writings of self harm, you may wish to 1) be very cautious about reading the below text, or 2) do not follow the links to previous entries, which may describe self harming acts in more detail. I'm putting this disclaimer here because I don't want anyone to hurt themselves due to something I may of done. If none of the above applies to you then read on.
Let me take you back near 18 months. The time: circa April 2001, the place: my room, the mood: extremely depressed and almost suicidal.
April 2001 is when I began seriously self harming. Not with blades at this point, however. Finger nails were my weapon of choice and they made some serious damage to the point where I couldn't stretch my arm without it stinging. The amount of scabs on my right arm was unbelieveable, even to me at the time. I was scared of myself because I was doing it. I really was scared, and yet I continued to do it.
A few days later, I could no longer hide the fact that I'd be self harming, since it would of only been harder to come up valid excuses for the injuries on my arm. "The cat done it" can only be used so many times, and besides, only for injuries such as dragging a nail tack along my arm a few times and other things with nail tacks, which, I had done at this point.
The self harming continued for a period of perhaps a month, before blades became involved. First stanley knife blades and then razor blades. Before this however, I began taking pictures of my arms. Images of the blood dripping down from my arm, images of long gashes on my forearm, and of course, the truly noticeable and undeniable scabs that were also on my arm from the scratching. I said to myself that I would never post them here because I thought it'd only make me look like I wanted attention and so I avoided that.
However, 18 months on and I don't self harm no more and haven't done since late December. It was even declining before this as well, the last incident of cutting being two months earlier. I'm proud of this. I'm proud that I overcame self harm on my own, without any real external help.
Two days ago, I refound the only two images that I had saved on a fileserver and not my computer. I did have many more than two, but due to a lot of formats, they got lost. Maybe that was for the best actually. However, these two images, while I was looking at them for the first time in at least 10 months shocked me and near brought me to tears because of how disturbing my arm really looking due to all the scratches, scabs and nail tacks. I really can't believe that 18 months ago, that's how my arm looked, because today, thankfully, my arms have healed a lot, although of course not as much as I could ever wish for.
For the first time, I've decided to show this image on my diary.
"Why?", you may ask. Why? Because I want people to see just what a depressive mood can make someone to do themselves both mentally and in this case, physically. As I said before, these images were never intended to be seen by anyone. If they were, I'd have an entire 'gallery' of them, since I had quite a few. If I wanted attention from taking the images, I'd have sent them to every person I perhaps talked to, but I didn't, because I didn't want people to see just how bad my arms were. I was ashamed of it.
Now though, the feelings of embarassment and shame are subsiding, and even though I still continue to cover my arms up in public, ie, college, I do feel much less insecure about it. In addition to this, I also feel much more secure mentally, even though I am still a very depressed person. More secure, still depressed.
So, for the first time, I'm allowing you to see how my right arm looked 18 months ago. Before you choose to look though, you might want to reconsider if you're easily disturbed by images that I've already described. Really, I don't want to make anyone have nightmares or something. Personally, though I find it shocking, i'm now none the wiser as to how bad it truly looks, since I've had to live with it for the last year and a half. This is why I really want you to think before you click the link.
If you're sure you want to see, then by all means, click here.
As you can tell for those who did view the image, you can even see the very different skin tone I had 18 months ago. No, that skin colour is nothing to do with the flash or ambient lighting, that really was my skin tone. When you compare it to the up to date image, you can really see how little time I spent outside, or even in exposure to sunlight. That skin tone was the tone all over my body and face. When I first put the images side by side, I was really amazed at how pale I was. I still am pale to an extent, but hardly to such lengths as the image taken last year and this i'm glad of.
And so to the present. My arm healed from the damage I caused it. My skin, partially a normal tone. My mind, however, has yet to heal. It's yet to close up the damage that'd been caused to it both by myself and external things over the months and I don't think it will ever truly be cured. I do have hope, however, that one day, I'll be able to socialise as much (or indeed, as little if I choose) as I wish to, without feeling fear, paranoia or insecurity. I also hope, and wish for a time when I'll have a few close friends, maybe even just one. A friend who, in physical form, can be here, with me and just talk like any other two close friends do.
Of course I also wish for one last thing. The thing that I've always made clear about in my diary from the early stages of it - Someone to love. Someone to love as a friend, of course, but more than that, someone to love as a lover. Someone to care about with all my heart and someone who will give me all of these feelings back in return. I do have hope for this person coming into my life, again, I've always held true to the fact that I will, someday find someone to love and just under a year from when I began this diary, someone did come into my life, making me truly happier than I'd ever been, only to leave me too soon. I still remain hopeful that one day I'll have this love for someone again and they will love me back in the same way.
Some day. I will find it some day.
6:03am
