You know what's exhausting? Always having to empathise with your mother. Even when you don't want to. Because you think it's your fault that she is feeling the way she is, that you should be the one fixing whatever is wrong in her life even when you warned her before she went ahead and screwed it up for herself, having to hear that she feels guilty for all that she puts me through but not actually doing anything to change it, but still thinking I've too many expectations from her cause she has been through so much. I always wonder if I shouldn't be the understanding one and that I should get to throw a temper tantrum and not have it be invalidated by her but I always go back to feeling evil for thinking that my problems are even remotely as hard as hers. I promise myself and her that I will help her through whatever steps she takes in the future as difficult as it may get but when she takes steps back again, I lose hope and the energy to support her the next time she begins or even actually goes through with it . After all this, I still feel guilty expecting so much from her and say that it will take time for her to get past mental blocks and her trauma and that I should be ready to take every step with her whenever she is ready. It always, always goes from being furious to making excuses for her actions and her decisions and I realise how much I keep hurting myself and blaming myself for things I don't even do.
Self harm doesn’t always happen when a blade touches skin.
It’s skipping meals because you don’t feel like you deserve to eat today. It’s having sex because you want to be used or abused or defiled. It’s drinking recklessly because you might have the ‘courage’ do something stupid. It’s smoking - not because you need the nicotine - because you know it’s bad for you. It’s banging your head against a wall when you’re angry. It’s crossing the road without looking because you lowkey hope a car might hit you. It’s thinking about all the ways you could break a bone and make it look like an accident. It’s not taking painkillers because you want to suffer. It’s taking painkillers in excess because you know it’s dangerous. It’s walking home the more dangerous way because you’re kind of half hoping you’ll get attacked or raped or stabbed. It’s going for long walks at night and getting chilled to the bone and hoping that you get lost so that you can’t find your way back. It’s seeking out triggering material. It’s all the stupid little ways you punish yourself for existing.
Sometimes self harm happens when you put effort into depriving yourself of things you like or need, and sometimes it happens when you don’t put any effort into doing the things you like or need.
It’s a pattern of self-destructive behaviour, and it doesn’t only happen in one way.
This sort of behavior is classified as “para-suicidal” It’s putting yourself in a situation of danger or destruction with the intention of risking your safety rather than a direct attempt on your life. Kind of, leaving it all to chance? Also doing things to harm yourself or your self worth because you feel you deserve to feel the outcome of those actions.
I’m jealous of those who can function like a normal human being. They don’t have anxiety holding them back from everything, they don’t struggle to get out of bed or have to put on an act that everything is fine when its not. They don’t struggle to hold friendships and relationships… they don’t feel sad for no fucking reason everyday. Those that can hold jobs and work towards their dreams, the ones who have self esteem and see the beauty in themselves. Those that know what its like to feel safe and secure, not insecure and fearful of it all.
Niemand vertelt je dat het vechten nooit stopt. Actief ingaan tegen alles wat jou als mens kapot maakte, mag dan misschien een automatisme geworden zijn, maar het vergt niet minder energie dan vroeger. Elke dag opnieuw moet je ervoor kiezen om niet te verglijden in destructieve gewoontes en negatieve gedachtestromen. Er is geen dag waar je niet doodop bent van proberen.
Ik wou dat ik met mijn gevoelens aan tafel kon gaan zitten. Dat ik ze kon vragen wie ze waren en wat ze kwamen doen. Waarom ze zo plots binnengewandeld zijn en wie hen tot bij mij heeft gebracht. Dan kon ik ze vragen hoe lang ze gingen blijven en of ik iets kon doen. Ik zou op z'n minst bij ze kunnen zitten tot ze terug weggingen. Misschien zou ik ze dan beginnen herkennen na een tijd en zou ik ze niet steeds dezelfde vragen moeten stellen. Misschien zou ik sommige van hen een kamer kunnen geven, omdat ik weet dat ze er zullen zijn voor een tijdje. En met een beetje geluk is dat geluk.
Do you ever wish you had something really bad, like cancer, just to finally know you'll be gone soon, and wouldn't have to think about the future anymore?
I wouldn't have to think about what to do after I finish university.
I wouldn't have to think about the fact that I'll probably never meet someone, get married, have kids etc.
I wouldn't have to feel all the stress and pressure I have now.
I wouldn't have to hear my mother and everyone else compare me to other people who are doing much better in life, than I am.
And I wouldn't have to kill myself directly, which would make it easier for my parents to understand that I'm gone and to let me go.
Ik wou dat ge naar uzelf kon kijken door mijn ogen, wat een pracht mens dat ge zijt. Dat ge weet dat bij u zijn is zoals thuis komen.
Ik ben zolang niet thuis geweest. Tot nu.
I promised myself things were getting better
But what if i started to fool myself instead of others
I've cast myself under my own spell
And I've hidden myself away pain that creeps up on me
Like a lion on its prey, ready to pounce.
I am getting better and stronger every day
I can feel myself becoming lighter
I can feel old me, clawing her way through the numbness
And she's nearly there.
Tonight is an off night
And that's okay
Because tonight i will cry for past me, not me now
I'll cry about how long she let her head ruin her life
And tomorrow i will try harder for her
I'll try harder for the future she could barely even see.
Sometimes i find myself
Soaked up in grief
Grief triggers the sadnes
That i fight so hard to stay above
Hours become days
In this numb haze that consumes me
My bed calls my name
I can feel the safety it holds.
