Been having a troublesome past three days. Today I’ve been more calm, but I ended up cutting on Thursday. Ugh.
Last time I did it was March of last year. And really, this time around it was just a bunch of impulsive and superficial cuts, more like scratches. But still, it was cutting, so I’m a bit angry at myself (though at the same time, since I’m not feeling particularly great, a part of me just doesn’t care whether I cut or not).
Why did I cut? Because of The Ex. I feel like I opened a Pandora’s box by finally accepting that it was abuse. It was in the back of my mind all of these years, but I was too scared to admit it to myself.
I’m a whirlwind of emotions. There’s no other way to describe it, as cliche as it sounds. Some days it’s like nothing ever happened, and yet other days I’m drowning in memories and letting myself feel the disgust and pain I didn’t allow myself to feel back then. And to think, I was in a great mood Wednesday with R’s appointment.
But on Thursday I found out The Ex is still living in the city and will be giving a conference in February not far from home. I was/am so angry. Here I am, depressed, having suicidal thoughts on a regular basis, and self-harming in any way possible, while he’s happily building a reputation in his relatively new career and fooling everyone with the nasty facade he has. Ugh.
So I started having flashbacks and instead of fighting them, I indulged in remembering (because, again, I wasn’t feeling all too jolly to begin with). There’s this specific memory that stands out, I’ll spare you the details, but it had to do with a certain male body fluid (if you know what I mean).
And I was so angry! I mean, why does the simple thought a stupid body fluid trigger me?!
And then I got even more angry, because recently I’d read a statistic about sexual abuse, stating that roughly 1 in 4 girls and 1 in 6 boys are sexually abused in the US before the age of 18.
1 in 4…
Oh, dear….and I was 15-16 years-old when all of this began. Am I part of the number one in that statistic?
And then I thought, Well, 1 in 4….that’s roughly 25 girls in my med school class and a bunch of guys too….who are the remaining 24? Is there someone who I personally know who is going through this hell too?!
It was too much to bear. I felt so disgusting, and the cherry on top was my cutting. And while I was cutting I kept thinking: You are so disgusting, you are so fat, you are a used piece of shit, you deserve to be cut into pieces and destroyed.
I was so angry and tired I didn’t even bother cleaning up. I just went to sleep with the little droplets of blood still accumulating on my stomach area and hip.