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[17 Sep 2009|09:25am] |
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I've been away from this journal for a while. Mostly been using my paper journal. Going through some stuff, but I miss this place. Thinking about making a comeback. We shall see!
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| cutting |
[09 Feb 2005|11:25pm] |
I was trying on dresses, and my mother asked casually, "how did you get those cuts on your leg?"
The cuts (there are two of them) are on my upper, inner thigh. It's kind of hard to accidentally cut yourself there,
I casually tossed off something about falling on my desk drawer handle, which is sharp. She gave me a look, and said "twice?" and I murmured something about scraping two places at once.
Is she on to me? Dunno. I barely cut anymore, but when I need to, well. It's my body. Mine. And I'll damn well cut it if I feel the need.
Peversly, I'm proud of my cuts. The rule is, if I do it to myself, I'm not allowed to bitch over it, not allowed to whine to myself that they hurt, or they're scabbing. That's the rule. I barely cut any more these days, just rarely when the misery and depression and Nothing is so strong that there's no alternative, no other outlet for my pain.
But when I do, those fading scars are like badges of honor, and I wear them proudly.
It's my body. I'll cut it if I want to.
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[03 Jun 2004|11:32am] |
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mood |
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 defiant |
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I do believe in fairies. I do, I do.
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[09 May 2004|02:37am] |
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music |
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Kate Rusby: Annan Waters |
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I'm lost. Oh god, I'm so lost.
I remember a time when I wasn't afraid of anything. A year ago, I told someone that nothing scared me, and it was true.
Now, I'm scared, scared of everything. Scared of losing my friends, scared of being lost within them. Scared of figuring out my way, scared of doing things too much by rote, scared of doing things out of rebellion. Scared of screwing myself over out of not knowing.
I'm so lost, and I'm afraid I won't be found in time.
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[22 Apr 2004|01:59am] |
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mood |
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 contemplative |
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music |
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Dar Williams: Calling the Moon |
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I pretended it didn't, even to myself, but getting broken up with seriously impacted my self-esteem. I didn't want to believe that a boy, a boy I had gone out with four times, could have that much sway over my mental state - I didn't want to believe that I, the one who never falls for such tricks, could be enmeshed by one. When he broke up with me, I told myself that it had been fun, and now it was over, and I was okay with that, because I knew if I let myself hurt, I would hurt too much. I didn't even cut myself then - I told myself that I didn't hurt enough to.
"I told myself", being the operative words here, because I did hurt. I hurt a lot, deep down where I wouldn't let myself feel it, and I knew I did, but knew I couldn't handle it. My self-esteem suffered tremendously. He hadn't given me a chance, I felt. If only I had one more date to prove to him that I was wonderful. I had been PMSing on out last date. I needed more time. If only, if only. And the lingering, underlying sentiment wasn't so much that I missed him, but was this: that I wasn't good enough for him. Why wasn't I good enough for him? Why did he reject me out of hand? It plagued at me, ate at me, devoured me from the inside, and I could practically feel my insecurities growing. I'd look in the mirror and like what I saw, and wonder if it was really as nice as I thought it was - if it was, how come he had dumped me? Worse than breaking up was not understanding why, and feeling my self-esteem plummet.
Tonight, I found out that a guy I met recently is interested in me. It's funny, because I met him in a group of guys, and he was the one I was interested in, but didn't say anything or give any sign - but tonight, I found out that he's interested in me. And miraculously, my self esteem starts to rise. I'm still not thrilled with the fact that it's so dependant on the goodwill of other people, but it's nice to know that I'm still pretty, smart, witty, clever. Attractive and interesting. I'm still good, even though I was dumped. I knew it deep down, theoretically - I'm starting to realize it in reality too.
It's nice to be wanted.
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[21 Apr 2004|10:11am] |
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music |
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Dar Williams: Calling the Moon |
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I'm my biggest critic, but I'm also my biggest fan, so I suppose it evens out.
I know I'm beautiful. On my good days, I look into the mirror and I'm astonished at what I see - beauty like a pre-Raphaelite painting. On my bad days, I see, bitterly, all my flaws.
I am aware, vividly, of all my talents and strengths - and of my weaknesses and fallacies at the same time. I know I'm wonderful, while I know I'm wretched.
I'm not trying to brag, or angst. I'm just saying; it's an interesting dichotomy.
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| Options |
[18 Mar 2004|09:34am] |
I have two cuts on my thigh from this relationship. Neither one is his fault, directly. When I angst, I cut.
Yesterday, Rebecca introduced me to her own method of coping - plucking her legs with a tweezer. I thought she was crazy, until I tried it - it hurts. And sometimes, you need that hurt. That's why I cut.
Maybe I'll try it next time I want to cut.
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[01 Mar 2004|08:19am] |
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music |
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Phil Collins: Look Through My Eyes |
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I'm doing better. As I mentioned before, eventually something jolts me out of my depression. I'm hoping it's for good, not for temporary. I've had enough of being depressed for a while, thank you.
And even though I'm doing better, I sill have a cut on my leg. Today is March 1, and it is Self Injury Awareness Day. ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) fox1013 explains it much better than I ever could over here. Self Injury is a bigger issue than most people are aware of; it's important to bring it to the public concience, not as a hallmark movie horror story, but as a fact of life. I'm not a regular cutter. I'm 20 years old, nearly 21, and I've cut myself exactly five times, each one during a time of utter depression. When I'm okay, which is most of the time, I'm not capable of cutting myself. But when I sink into a deep depression, I'm capable of nearly anything.
You wouldn't know it from looking at me. My cuts are on my thighs - no one ever sees them. I'm usually happy, usually well-adjusted. But when I'm in pain inside and have no way of letting it out, I cut.
What am I trying to say? Read fox1013's eloquent post, and you'll get an idea. I just want to spread the idea, to keep it going, because I think it's important.
Happy March 1.
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[29 Feb 2004|01:14pm] |
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music |
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The Last Unicorn |
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I just want to feel loved.
I don't want to screw things up. Again. But I don't think I know what love is.
I'm so afraid of screwing up. I'm afraid I already have.
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| Da Vinci code |
[28 Feb 2004|11:52pm] |
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music |
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Evanescense: My Immortal |
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I'd like to quote a line from this book.
"Murray Hill Place - the new Opus Dei World Headquarters and conference cneter - is located at 243 Lexington Avenue in New York City...The seventeenth floor is entirely residential. Men enter the buidling through the main doors on Lexington Avenue. Women enter through a side street and are "acoustically and visually separated" from the men at all times."
--The Da Vinci Code, Dan Brown, p28
For a man who claims to have done all his research impeccably, this is a little shoddy. Why, you may ask? I pass Opus Dei every single day, and I often observe people coming in and out. Yes, there are two seperate entrances for men and women, but women enter on Lex, while men enter on 34th street - no side street, thank you very much.
Hmph.
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[28 Feb 2004|11:37pm] |
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music |
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Loreena McKennitt: Dicken's Dublin |
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I'm mad. I know I'm mad.
I'm updating this journal like crazy all of a sudden, maybe because I've taken a hiatus from my other journal. Yes, there is another journal. No, I won't tell you where. Maybe one day, my loves, if we're good enough friends. Maybe one day.
I need a hiatus from my other journal. It was becoming too much of me, gaining too great a grip on me.
It's different here. This journal is entirely public. There's not prying family and school friends and boyfriends to read entries; it can be public, and I can say what I will, with no fear. And so I will. So I will.
This journal is for the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
It's scary, but it's liberating.
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[28 Feb 2004|10:58pm] |
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music |
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Return of the King: The White Tree |
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I cut myself again today. My left thigh this time, with a nail clipper. It made a smooth, clean cut; it bled a lot. More than any other time. How many times is this, now? Five. Five times, and I can put a name and a face and a situation to nearly all of them. Four nearly faded scars on my right thigh, and one angry red cut on my left, still bright with caked dried blood.
Despair is pulling me down; I need to shake it off, and I don't know how.
It's happened before; Despair has grabbed me, cradled me, trapped me in its suffocating warm cocoon, and each time, nothing I did had any effect until, bang! something snapped me out of it. It could be anything, or nothing, or something. It's different every time. All I know is that it will come, eventually it will come, and I'll snap out of it and be better again.
I want it to happen soon.
The Gondor music makes me feel like soaring inside. It brings Elspeth Andariel images to mind. I hope I get to write her soon.
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[28 Feb 2004|10:55pm] |
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mood |
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desperate |
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music |
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Mychael Danna: The Blood of Cu Chulainn |
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I'm trying to be good. I'm trying to study. But all I want to do is write. The need to write is overwhelming. Out of nowhere, Anna and Maria have turned terrorist on me; Jia has been killed, the Safe House has been torn apart. How can I study Psycho? How can I neglect them? I have to write.
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