meaningisgone
Student
- Feb 17, 2019
- 112
Cutting was never much of a thing for me. When I was 15, I scratched my wrists up a bit probably mostly as a cry for help, but that's it.
Now I am 38, and last night I laid in bed with a knife. I pressed it into my wrists to experiment with the pain. I pressed it gently into me at first, and then increased the pressure, kind of "sawing" back and forth until it became too much. Then I stopped and looked to see if any visible damage had been done. In my head, I was thinking, "This really could be it. I could end it right now, and I'd be okay with that." I imagined how I might feel if I realized I'd actually cut deeply enough to do serious damage, and I was certain that I'd be mostly relieved. There wasn't a lot of fear. But as I cut deeper, the pain increased beyond my willingness to keep going. I cut at myself maybe for an hour before putting the knife aside and falling asleep though.
There was also some pleasure. Endorphins or whatnot. First time I ever experienced a kind of screwed up headrush from physical pain. "Shit," I thought, as I realized firsthand for the first time, how this sort of thing could become addicting to someone like me. During one of the deepest cuts last night, there was a weird sensation, in which it was like there was a "pitch shift" in my tinnitus. And a few seconds later, I heard a beeping sound like an EKG, and then a brief flatline. I thought maybe I'd actually ended up in the hospital, but I guess it was all in my head or just some strange response to the circumstances.
I'm writing this, because shit. After all these years. It's come down to this. Next time I'll do deeper. That's just how I am. And there will be a next time for sure. That's how I am too. I don't know how to stop this. I don't know how to turn off this noise in my head. I have no faith in the system to help me. I have no faith in anything.
I'm human wreckage. My friends are all gone. I can't support myself. On the last legs with what's left of my family. Can't take care of my cats, probably going to need to ditch them at a shelter soon. I can't imagine there's a future for me. And the messed up part is, I don't WANT to imagine that there's a future. Because every time I have in the past, it was crushed to dust. I am tired of the sound of my voice. I am tired of my reflection. I am tired of the space I take up. I am not worth anything, and at this point I have no idea how to rectify that. Nearly 40 years is a long time to fail over and over again. How can I possibly expect myself to do any different going forward? I just want the lights to turn out and want it to be over with.
As I was cutting, part of me inside said, "I don't want to die." But then another, louder part of me said, "Oh yes, I do."
I don't know what else to do but post here. I have no one to talk to. I'd rather burn in hell before calling a hotline. I imagine if I live through the week that I'll end up in inpatient, whether voluntarily or otherwise. I have no trust in them helping me get better. I've been burned by the system so many times. I hate this.
Now I am 38, and last night I laid in bed with a knife. I pressed it into my wrists to experiment with the pain. I pressed it gently into me at first, and then increased the pressure, kind of "sawing" back and forth until it became too much. Then I stopped and looked to see if any visible damage had been done. In my head, I was thinking, "This really could be it. I could end it right now, and I'd be okay with that." I imagined how I might feel if I realized I'd actually cut deeply enough to do serious damage, and I was certain that I'd be mostly relieved. There wasn't a lot of fear. But as I cut deeper, the pain increased beyond my willingness to keep going. I cut at myself maybe for an hour before putting the knife aside and falling asleep though.
There was also some pleasure. Endorphins or whatnot. First time I ever experienced a kind of screwed up headrush from physical pain. "Shit," I thought, as I realized firsthand for the first time, how this sort of thing could become addicting to someone like me. During one of the deepest cuts last night, there was a weird sensation, in which it was like there was a "pitch shift" in my tinnitus. And a few seconds later, I heard a beeping sound like an EKG, and then a brief flatline. I thought maybe I'd actually ended up in the hospital, but I guess it was all in my head or just some strange response to the circumstances.
I'm writing this, because shit. After all these years. It's come down to this. Next time I'll do deeper. That's just how I am. And there will be a next time for sure. That's how I am too. I don't know how to stop this. I don't know how to turn off this noise in my head. I have no faith in the system to help me. I have no faith in anything.
I'm human wreckage. My friends are all gone. I can't support myself. On the last legs with what's left of my family. Can't take care of my cats, probably going to need to ditch them at a shelter soon. I can't imagine there's a future for me. And the messed up part is, I don't WANT to imagine that there's a future. Because every time I have in the past, it was crushed to dust. I am tired of the sound of my voice. I am tired of my reflection. I am tired of the space I take up. I am not worth anything, and at this point I have no idea how to rectify that. Nearly 40 years is a long time to fail over and over again. How can I possibly expect myself to do any different going forward? I just want the lights to turn out and want it to be over with.
As I was cutting, part of me inside said, "I don't want to die." But then another, louder part of me said, "Oh yes, I do."
I don't know what else to do but post here. I have no one to talk to. I'd rather burn in hell before calling a hotline. I imagine if I live through the week that I'll end up in inpatient, whether voluntarily or otherwise. I have no trust in them helping me get better. I've been burned by the system so many times. I hate this.
