Even A Knife-Wielding Maniac Can Illustrate Growth

Yesterday, I went to an event held by Open Minds, and came home expecting everybody to be out. After I turned around and locked the door, without even having a cursory look around the room, I turned back to discover a "knife-wielding maniac" standing right in front of me.

Confronted with a similar situation a week ago, the 18yo daughter stood still and screamed. And darn near wet herself. I would have expected that to be my reaction as well. Instead I stood stock still with quite a surprised look on my face and just froze. Completely and utterly. And then my eyes adjusted, I saw who it was... and I laughed.

Since the "knife wielding maniac" was, in both instances, Bumface, I posted about the prank on Facebook as I internally processed all the positive things I had learned from it. Unfortunately, some of my friends seemed to feel that because they didn't find it amusing, I couldn't (or shouldn't?) have, either and I now have a lot to process around that.

But.. between the prank and the Facebook fall-out, I've learned and cemented a few new/emerging thoughts and truths for myself.


1. My eyes might be getting worse and I should probably have them tested. To be perfectly honest, I didn't even *see* the knife until after I recognised Bumface. :p

2. I have grown so much, emotionally, over the last year. I knew that, but this prank really illustrated to me just HOW much, and I'm so proud of that in myself.

3. Despite this growth, in an emergency situation, my instinct is still to freeze. This is probably not the best plan in most situations, so I need to practice forms of self defense (or at least fleeing!) enough that they become second nature as much as freezing.

4. Some of my actions when I believe I'm alone put me at risk. It is a good practice to be aware of my surroundings when I enter a room, to at least make a quick check that everything is in order. I don't mean a paranoid examination of every corner of the house, but a cursory check that there isn't a crazy man less than two feet from me is probably a smart move. ;)

5. I have a great deal of deep trust for Bumface. Not many people could stand in front of me, holding a knife, and still make me feel safe once I recognise them.

6. I don't believe in "if you can't say something nice, then don't say anything at all" - but I believe in something that (I feel) fits that grey a little better. "If you can't say something constructive, then you shouldn't say anything at all" because, let's face it, sometimes it's necessary to say something that isn't nice. If your best friend is dating an abusive jerk, you should probably tell her you can see that he's abusing her and you're there for her. Now, that's probably not the nicest thing to say -- but better to say it than let her think what he's doing is okay because everybody's seeing it and nobody's speaking up!

7. I don't need other peoples' approval as strongly as I used to. I am still deeply hurt by the disapproval and rejection I felt/feel about reactions I received to my post, but there is not so strong a sense of "well, maybe I did something wrong" - now it's a sense that I'm sad that people can't just be glad that I'm in a relationship that makes me happy, is good for me, and has allowed me to grow so much. Still, out of pond muck, lillies grow.


Most of all, I cemented that this relationship really HAS been very good for me over the past year. I didn't doubt it, but it is still nice to have solid confirmation of the ways in which he has helped me to grow. I only hope I've been as good for him as he has for me.

(And that I can come up with a damn good retaliation prank...)

Who deserves help? (Or: "You've just tried to braise a pork chop in the toaster")

The other day I came home from my session with my alcohol counsellor with a fair bit to think about. After a bit of mulling it over, I decided to ask a group of people what the term "coping" means to them. I got a large number of answers, but only one that I was really looking for - but it didn't match my definition of it, either. The question (and the answers) sparked a different conversation with a good friend, about who deserves help and when -- on, of course, a more personal note.

Some of the things that came up for me in this discussion were some issues/concerns and some beliefs I hold that I've been challenging without fully recognising:
I think coping is equal to feeling like there's a reason to keep living/fighting, not struggling all the time emotionally, and I think I believe that the only people who 'deserve' help are those who aren't coping.
I am scared that Mental Health are right and that if I just tried hard enough, I'd be able to pull myself together and build a life worth living in a much shorter time frame than I'm currently managing.
I get upset when my counsellor says I'm coping well because I don't fit my own definition of what coping is, and I use that definition as my "proof" that I can check on to see if I'm allowed to ask for help (such as by seeing a counsellor).

I decided the bigger part of the discussion stands pretty well on its own merit in the form it's already in, with a few edits for clarity, conciseness or just punctuation/grammar (not even sharing of IRC logs allows for completely rubbish grammar on my blog!). That said, I should probably warn you - don't read on an empty stomach! Someone was clearly hungry! ;)


F(riend): Let's say you and I are taking a cooking class. It's the final test, they've told us to cook this outrageously complicated meal and we have two hours. I'm buzzing along, I know exactly what I'm doing, I'm doing it all right, but I'm a bit slow. You suck. You can't tell your ass from your apples and you've just tried to braise a pork chop in the toaster. When the chef comes along, who should get more help?

M(e): Me. Or someone should take me out of the running!

F: Yes. I'm doing alright on my own and would benefit from some assistance and if I want it, I should get it, but you aren't doing well at all. You're so confused and overwhelmed that not only will you not get your braised pork chops with apples and onions out on time, you will probably deliver - late - grilled cheese. And have absolutely no idea how you did it.

(This is, truthfully, almost how I cook for real! Analogy and reality crossover!)

F: Clearly you didn't get the skills you needed in Chef school so you should probably go back and try again. Both of us, however, are better off than the third chef who has all her ingredients, all her pans and spoons and things prepared, plenty of help and plenty of time... and is sitting there filing her nails instead. She does not deserve help, in my opinion.

F: This analogy carries over. Anyone with any interest at all in improving, no matter where they're starting - from "almost an expert but needs a nudge" to "ass over breakfast", deserves to have assistance. Some of us need more than others, some of us GET more than others but it comes in the form of a troupe of angry 6 year olds who think they're gourmet Chefs - not very helpful and a bit baffling as to how they can manage to hurt your feelings so much they're just tetchy little midgets, but that's what happens when they send you to the primary school for cooking lessons.

F: It's not like you went in there incompetent and came out incompetent. You went in unable to even open the bag of bread for peanut butter and jelly, and now you're making French toast. But there's only so much you can learn from idiots.

F: It's unfortunate that you happened to be in a place where the help they offered you was provided by baboons in diapers, but
a) you did learn many, many things from them... you took what you were given and you made something useful, which says not much about them but hours and hours of things about you, and
b) they've treated you pretty poorly, which is unfortunate, and I wish I knew why, but it doesn't really matter. What they have to offer, you have gotten. Until they learn the right way to put the sausage in the pan, they can hardly teach you to make the rest of breakfast.


Ignoring the somewhat hostile (but quite amusing!) view she has of the mental health professionals that have been involved in the main part of my care, she made some very important points:
It doesn't matter what "level" you're at, if you need the help, you deserve it. I was able to learn things, and that's good, but not having learned everything there is to know about how to build a better life for myself doesn't mean I need to be beating myself up for it.



Challenges & Cheerleading:
Just because I fit my counsellor's definition of coping doesn't mean I don't deserve to ask for help.
It's okay to not be perfect.
I have equal worth to others.



What does coping mean to you? Does your definition change if you apply it universally (as opposed to self-application only)? What defines "need" in terms of asking for or receiving help? What are your thoughts on the analogy and the message behind it?

Take care of yourselves until next time, and may we all find our own small fences along the way.

Ten Things

It's taken all day, but this was so worth doing. On a forum I'm part of someone came up with the idea of putting together a list of ten things about ourselves that have nothing to do with our SA. I've taken it on board, and extended it to be 10 things not linked to my SA or the rest of the stuff in my past OR my mental illnesses. And, of course, in keeping with DD's theme, I've tried to keep them positive focused.


1. I love to wear odd socks, but I only like it if they are the same size & style and match in some way (eg, same pattern but different colours). This isn't because I want to stand out, or make a fashion statement, it's because I like variety and I enjoy wearing a coordinated rainbow.

2. Until I was in my early 20s I had never seen a giraffe (except in books/on TV). Seeing my first one made me fall so completely in love with them as a species that they are now my favourite animal beyond a doubt.

3. I love good poetry, it's like a warm sleeping bag I just want to climb inside and breathe in.

4. My higher power is love because I believe it's part of everything.

5. I like to use my imagination to create things, I have a strong streak of creativity that influences most things I do, and one of the ways I use it most is in crafts. I am not overly fussy about my medium but usually play at scrapbooking, card making, jewellery or the making of dream catchers.

6. I am a qualified childcare worker and I did that for five years before I had to leave the industry for a while. Despite everything, it was one of the best parts of my life and I hope to work with children again some day.

7. I have a very active sense of humour and I laugh a lot, generally even (perhaps even especially) when I'm having a hard time.

8. I love fantasy. I might be a grown up but I still believe in magic and faeries and I believe that even though they may not exist now, other so-called fantasy beings probably existed in some form.

9. I love deeply and well, with a lot of loyalty.

10. I like to look at things in a way that's a little out of the ordinary, and I like sharing that with people in the form of poetry or photography. I love taking photographs of unusual angles so much that I am willing to lie down under a bus seat in order to capture the beauty of a piece of broken glass glinting in the sun.


That was a lot harder than I expected, but I'm glad I did it. What are your ten things?

Take care of yourselves until next time, and may we all find our own small fences along the way.

Stupid *Isn't* As Stupid Does

Intelligence/stupidity has been something that just keeps coming up for me, lately. I've had several conversations around the topic in the last couple of weeks, and they've all been really interesting with some big insights for me.

I've spent most of my life being told that I could do anything I wanted to do, be anything I wanted to be. I've also spent most of my life being told that I can't do anything, that I'm stupid and that I will never be good enough. Confusingly enough, many of the people giving me these messages were giving me both messages at the same time. Caught in my borderline black & white thinking, I interpreted this as "I am stupid" and "I will never be good enough" (with a side dose of messages such as "people will tell me I am smart so they feel better about the fact that I have nothing going for me"). Since I had an desperate need to please, I continued trying to prove that I could be smart for a long time. I continued trying to live up to the expectations that were in place, and I continued trying to prove that I could be good enough.

While I was still in this desperate to please state, I fell in love with a boy I considered very intelligent. He was charismatic, funny, good at numbers and figures, he knew a lot of things about a lot of things, and he was very sure of himself - so sure that every time I thought something was different to how he said, he would set about proving how wrong I was. I'm sure you all know where this is headed, but I didn't.

I started to have a breakdown. My doctor decided to remove me from my studies at University because I was too much of a suicide risk the way I was. It, at the time, fuelled the fire of self hate and doubt at my intelligence - how smart could I be if I had to be removed from Uni because I couldn't handle it?

The one good thing to come out of it was that since I had dropped out of Uni, most peoples' expectations on me disappeared. I was, more than ever, the family screw-up, but one they'd lost hope in. At least I'd married myself off and wouldn't need to leech off them...

By the time another year had passed, I had stopped trying to prove I was smart. What was the point? As far as I could tell, any intelligence I might once have had was long gone, probably had never existed at all. Eventually I even seemed to be actively trying to prove my lack of intelligence.

And by then, my view of myself as stupid had evolved into a many faceted thing. I was stupid because I couldn't think in the ways I used to be able to as a child. I was stupid because I wasn't good at numbers and figures. I was stupid because I had a poor memory. I was stupid because I'd made some unhealthy choices. I was stupid because I couldn't make connections I'd never been taught to make. I was stupid because I couldn't even finish University. I was stupid because I didn't get a better OP score in high school. I was stupid because I didn't think in the same ways as people I cared about thought in.

Not only that, but being 'stupid' filled some of my needs. Being stupid meant lower expectations on me. Being stupid meant I was humble. Being stupid meant I didn't get accused of getting above my station. Being stupid meant I wasn't a threat.

It got so that most people seemed to forget how smart I'd been. Many of the people in my life 'now' had never known the smart kid in school, which helped, and peoples' expectations of me were different. My best friend said to me the other day that nobody expected stupidity from me and that it wasn't how people thought of me - but she's only half right. A good proportion of people in my life really do think that I'm as thick as a couple of planks... but it's only because I've worked so hard to make them think that way.

I still remember saying something in DBT one day and the room went quiet. One woman, who hid behind her intelligence and rational thought as a form of avoidance, had the guts to say it: "Wow. You're actually really smart, aren't you? You hide it very well!"

Indeed, just the other day, in a chatroom I regularly visit, someone I've known as an acquaintance for years made the comment, "when did you get so wise?" and the truth is... I suppose I always have been. But I haven't been brave enough to let it show in years.

And, you know, for all that I've just outright admitted in this post that I am not so stupid after all, I still struggle to believe it most of the time. And as hard as it is to believe it, it's even harder to say it.

But guess what? I'm not stupid, and I'm really starting to show it again.


Challenge and cheer-leading statements:
All feelings are real and valid. All feelings will pass.
However I feel is okay.
Being different doesn't have to mean being wrong.


Take care of yourselves until next time, and may we all find our own small fences along the way.

Midweek Musings: Trusting

Today, at the end of a long and difficult counselling session, Carol pulled out some Angels With Attitude cards and asked me to choose one or more. She gave me the option of looking through the deck in order to choose, but I decided to pull one at random. As she began to fan the deck out in front of me, I pulled one of the more exposed cards and turned it over.

"Trust", it said, and I laughed through my tears. What an appropriate card for me right now.

In spite of everything, I am generally a very trusting person. I am naive, innocent, gullible and I both believe and believe in people. I trust in the basic goodness of most people. I trust that most people don't do things for bad reasons. I typically believe what people tell me, provided I have not been given a compelling reason not to.

Some of that, I suspect, is a subconscious mask, and other parts probably come from a desire to be seen as perhaps less intelligent than I might truly be. This is part of who I have been and it is part of who I am.

There is, however, a deeper level of trust, and it is here I often fall down. I easily trust outward; I do not easily trust inward. I do not trust my own self - my responses, my thoughts, my intuitions or my beliefs. I do not trust that I will use the right skills at the right time. And this lack of inward trust does extend outward; because I do not trust that my responses or emotions might be valid and appropriate, because I do not trust that I have much value, I do not trust that others will see it in me indefinitely, either.

Tell me that you will be here, and I will believe that you believe that... but I will not trust that you will stick around. I still spend far more time than I am comfortable with 'knowing' that as much as you believe you aren't going anywhere, this could be the time I mess it up. This could be the time I say the wrong thing and you realise how much you are sick of having me in your life.

Frustratingly, this lack of trust is often cause and effect all by itself. And, as is the nature of things when one has no internal self trust I alternate between responses.

I hear "go away" when you say hi and I think you hate me, but I challenge what I have heard and seek reassurance. If you are not very clear when you say "go away", I will hear "go away" and think you hate me, but I will challenge what I have heard and convince myself it's all in my head. Sometimes I get it right and I even respond accordingly, but more often I do not. I cannot imagine how frustrating it must be for those on the receiving end of both wrong-answer scenarios.

To constantly reassure me must be terribly annoying. To constantly be trying to get a message across to me when I keep telling myself you're sending a different one, equally so. How can I blame anyone for getting tired of this endless battle? I cannot; I do not.

I need to learn how to trust myself, because until I understand which thoughts to trust and listen to; how to balance checking in with others and understanding that I am not responsible for, or at fault in, every situation and interaction I have, until I can learn and understand that... I will always live in fear and sadness and anticipation that this is the day you walk away.

And in the meantime, I need to draw on those other layers of trust that I do have, that I can rely on. I need to trust in that basic goodness that I believe is in most people, because I'm going to need it over the next few weeks. I need to trust that if people have a problem with me, they will tell me. I need to allow myself to trust those safe people in my life as much as I can, because if I don't, I am going to lose everything I have worked so hard to gain and be.


Cheerleading/Challenge Statements:
It's okay to trust that my friends will tell me clearly if they don't want me around.
I have the skills and the ability to live through everything that comes my way - whether it comes by chance or invitation.
I have the right to look after my needs and wants.


Take care of yourselves until next time, and may we all find our own small fences along the way. And of course, don't forget to blog your own version of Sanguine Saturday sometime this week and let me know so I can link you next Saturday! ;)

Conquering The Need To Please

Anybody who knows me at all, knows that I am, possibly above all other things, a people-pleaser. As a child, it was a necessary part of my survival - as an adult, it was, I believed, the only way I would ever be liked, let alone loved. So for a long time all of my value came from having others like me, from doing and being everything everyone else wanted me to be. I was a chameleon and I wore whatever skin I thought the other person wanted to see.

If (I thought) you wanted someone to listen, that's what I'd do. If (I thought) you wanted comfort, that's what I'd give. If (I thought) you wanted advice, I'd offer it. If (I thought) you wanted to hear you were wonderful, that's what I'd say. Everything came second to that need to please - everything. I would stay up all night to support an acquaintance; give money away to anybody who asked, if they said they needed it; drop everything for everyone.

And it worked. I had a knack for it. I was good at being what everyone else wanted me to be - too good. Somewhere in all of that, I lost who I was. I lost who I wanted me to be. I lost my substance, and all that was left was the need to please everybody else. And I was fine with that because, you see, most people did like me... to a point.

People loved that I would do anything for them. They valued that I would value them so much... but they, for the most part, didn't have a lot of respect for me. Why should they, when I so clearly had no respect for myself?

2008 was the beginning of a turning point. In 2008 I came face to face with the concept that although most (real life) people "liked" me, nobody actually particularly cared about or for me. I was everybody's friend, but nobody counted me as theirs; as far as they were concerned, I was a hanger-on, an amiable and pleasant caricature, but I was not and had never been, any more than that.

Even after I recognised that, though, I didn't connect the dots. I couldn't understand how everybody could like me so much and not actually like me. (If you're confused, perhaps thinking of it as the difference between an acquaintance and a friend may help.)

And even when I did connect the dots, when I finally made the link, I was too afraid to do anything about it. My entire worth as a person hung on whether others liked me; if I started trying to worry about how I felt about things, everyone would see that there was nothing worth liking in me. So I didn't change much. By this stage I'd agreed to do DBT because that was (I thought) what my case manager had wanted for me. I stayed because (I thought) that was what the group coordinator had wanted.

I dropped everything when (I thought) somebody wanted me to or believed they needed me to. Even as I recognised the re-emergence of my self, my needs, my wants... I put them aside for others. And generally not selectively, either; there was a level of hierarchy, but for the most part, anyone who (I thought) wanted something, got it.

And then... something changed. I don't know if it was gradual, sneaking up on me, or if it was fairly sudden, but I do know that something has changed.

I've started to speak out. I don't just tell people what (I think) they want to hear, these days. I tell the truth as I see it - I try to be compassionate and diplomatic about it, but I'm still learning how to balance that with being true to myself. I'm still learning what it means to have a self to be true to.

I'm interested in helping people, in offering more than a virtual snuggle; I want to challenge people because we cannot grow without challenge. I'm not interested in walking on eggshells for the rest of my life. I'm not interested anymore in putting aside everything I need, everything I want, everything I am, to please somebody else.

Unsurprisingly, I'm less liked now.

Surprisingly, I don't mind nearly as much as I thought I would. It still hurts a lot, and it's very hard, still, to say no to my desire to please someone else. I don't always choose to do it, even when I know I 'should'. It's a learning curve, and this is just the beginning of another journey.

I used to think the world would end if I upset others, if I put myself first, if I failed to please someone...

Let me tell you, the world hasn't ended.

Yes, I'm less 'popular' now, but I feel, in some ways, like I am much more loved. People I truly admire -- people who are imperfect but never give up; who are good, kind, thoughtful people who have learned or are learning to respect themselves and put themselves first sometimes; who understand the value of change and challenge; who aren't afraid to give and take -- have noticed the change in me, in a good way. I feel like I have earned something much more valuable to me than mass outward approval - I feel that I have earned, dare I say it?, the respect of people I look up to. And I have earned something else, somehow, too, because I discovered something when I realised how much I have changed.

Not only would I would much rather have the respect and love of five* of those people than be universally liked; I'd rather respect myself than be universally liked, too.

*(I just wanted to put a number here and since I prefer numbers to be in multiples of 5...)



Cheer-leading / Challenge Statements:
It's okay to be proud of myself.
I don't have to be perfect.
I'm an okay person, and choosing to look after myself and my needs first doesn't change that.
I'm not responsible for other peoples' emotions.



Take care of yourselves until next time, and may we all find our own small fences along the way.

Taking A Look At My Choices

The last few weeks, and particularly last weekend, have been an uphill battle for me. In many ways, I can see how I am a world from where I was; in others I seem to be running headlong down the trail to where I was. I've made some good decisions that have worked out, some good decisions that haven't and some really phenomenally poor decisions (that, unsurprisingly, mostly didn't work out well). I'm learning that all of those are okay.

So, in the interests of being honest with myself on where the decisions I've made lately lie...

Healthy decisions/actions (whether or not they worked out in the way I had hoped):
Putting an online acquaintance on psuedo-ignore.
Not calling my father on his birthday.
Putting Serenity on to distract myself.
Going to Riverfire with some friends.
Working hard to do healthy things (like drinking lots of juice and having vitamin C tablets) to help my body heal faster.
Posting my regular "Sanguine ..." post, even though I think it was painfully obvious that I wasn't doing very well at the time.
Going in and talking to a social worker at Centrelink.
Asking the hospital if I could make my visits less frequent and get my nurse to do dressings in the meantime.
E-mailing a domestic violence place in Canberra about my options to gather information for when I move.
Getting my nurse to sort out a dressing and check out some things.
Having an apple and a banana instead of chocolate.


Unhealthy decisions/actions:
Calling my father on Father's Day.
Arranging to meet up with my ex husband so I could meet his daughter.
Not turning Serenity off after it became clear to me that it was extremely triggering.
Putting Law & Order SVU on after calling my father.
Reasoning that because I'd had an apple and a banana I didn't need breakfast or lunch.


Uncertain decisions:
Not talking to people about how I feel.
Not asking for support.

(I know these two seem to be clearly in the unhealthy decisions 'box' but due to circumstances I can't seem to word coherently, I'm not sure that applies in the instances this refers to. For example, if I know or should reasonably know that you haven't been trash-talking me, I don't think it's necessarily healthy for me to tell you I feel betrayed; or if someone else's support needs are higher than mine, it's not necessarily a healthy or fair decision for me to request support at that time.)


Having done this, I'm surprised there are so many healthy choices on the list! It's a nice surprise, though. I think I want to look in more detail about why I made the unhealthy choices I did. Some of them are easily explained ("I wanted to self destruct more than I wanted to get better" or "I'm feeling too lazy to be sensible") but things came of a couple of the things on that list that I want to explore in more detail. I think I'll make that my goal for this week. At the very least, it'll give me something to discuss with Carol!

I'm going to make one other goal for myself this week; and that is to do something related to moving house every day. Even if it's something small (like sending an e-mail or finishing some paperwork that needs to be done). I'll check in on Sanguine Saturday with how well I've gone with this one!


Cheer-leading statements:
My emotions are valid and acceptable. Even the ones I don't like!
It's okay to make healthy choices.
It's also okay to make unhealthy choices sometimes - they give me a chance to grow and learn.
My past doesn't have to define me. My present doesn't, either.
I'm not responsible for anyone's feelings or actions except my own.


Take care of yourselves until next time, and may we all find our own small fences along the way.

Kam kam, ruz be ruz

Today's title came from my dear friend Sonya. It's an Arabic saying that means "little by little, day by day", and applies primarily to this first section of today's post.

During a discussion about self harm (expounded upon in the bottom half of this entry), my friend bought a quote by Chuang Tzu to the metaphoric table:

Easy is right. Begin right and you are easy. Continue easy and you are right. The right way to go easy is to forget the right way and forget that the going is easy.

I got confused attempting to follow it, but once my friend explained that it was about finding your authentic flow (aka "your true gut knowledge") and going with it; and that when you authentically struggle (as opposed to superficially struggling), it means you are headed in the wrong direction.

It's an interesting idea, but requires you to be able to hear your true gut knowledge -- and I'm just not there, yet. I'm still trying to get to know who I am at all. I get lost on where I begin; I struggle to identify what is fundamentally 'me' and what is merely a by-product of the answers I give to please others or get urges/desires/'needs' met.

And, as Sonya pointed out, maybe that's what I need to be focusing on at the moment. Instead of trying to be this incredible, wise, "together" person, maybe I just need to take it little by little and concentrate on finding the basics of who I am, and once I know that, then I can refine who that person is.


As for the second part of my post, I'll spoiler this here and now. It is self harm focused, quite frank and mildly graphic.




Yesterday, as I mentioned, was a difficult day. For the 4th time in just over a week, I needed stitches: my doctor was, understandably, not very happy with me. For the first time in his treatment of me, he spoke to me only twice. The first time, he asked if I was planning to do more to myself "at the moment"; the second, all he said to me was "remember what I said last time?", then he turned to the nurse and continued, "if she needs anything tomorrow or in the next few weeks, call Holly". He stitched me up without another word to me then walked out.

I admit, I don't generally interact a whole lot with my doctor at the best of times, and I've never actually 'needed' him to warn me that the anaesthetic will sting; or to check that I'm not feeling anything as he puts the stitches in... but he's never before neglected to do either.

I felt rejected, betrayed. I felt abandoned. My head understands that he needs me to get used to seeing other doctors, but all my heart saw was that he has effectively dropped me because I 'failed'. I recognise that my heart and my head are in contention, and I recognise that the truth lies far more in my head than my heart, but I still need to go that next step and bring the two to alignment. I need to find Wise Mind.

After I got home, I had a very interesting discussion with two of my good friends. We have talked before about my self harm, and my inability (unwillingness?) to admit that it is "severe". At this point, I'm uncertain about why I still do it - most of the time it brings little relief and I already know that it creates more problems than it solves. And still, I do it anyway.

I have learnt to reason my way out of almost anything, as long as others aren't involved. During DBT, my therapist and I butted heads over the self harm thing time and time again. She couldn't get her head around why I would seek medical attention if I didn't view my self harm as severe; and I do understand that to a point. On the other hand, though, I have seen first hand the effects of a nasty Staph infection -- and how easily it spreads. I'm not at all bothered by the idea of having such an infection myself (apart from the thought of the resultant antibiotics!). What I'm not comfortable with, though, is the thought of being responsible for someone else contracting it. And that, purely and simply, is why I show up time and again to get my wounds taken care of - because I know that if I don't, I do get infections.

But I digress; I was talking about severity and self harm. I justify it to myself, telling myself that I don't really "need" those stitches. I have never had a wound so deep that to not get stitches would endanger my life. I tell myself that my burns can't be all that terrible - after all, I've never required a skin graft. I've never broken a bone through self harm, I've never given myself concussion, never actually required immediate first aid. My head tells me that, the way things stand, my self harm cannot possibly be 'severe'. And yet... my heart says, "this isn't right".

If I don't feel pain, it's because (to my mind), I obviously haven't done enough damage. If I do feel pain, I am weak and pathetic - "anybody else wouldn't even blink at this". Somewhere in me I know this is wrong. I know that if you don't feel anything from a wound, it is generally a sign of nerve damage or at least of dissociation/disconnection from the body. I know this... but I can't get myself to see it as applying to me.

My head and my heart are in contention again, and ironically, if my friends' perceptions are accurate, this time it is my heart that is right. How did I get so desensitised? What will it take to open my eyes?



Today's thought challenges/cheer-leading statements:
If my friend chooses to remove me from her life, it does not necessarily mean I have done something wrong.
My doctor has not abandoned me.
I am not a bad person.
All things pass when we let them. This will, too, as long as I choose to allow that.
I can't change things I may have done in the past, but I can make different choices in the future.



Take care of yourselves until next time, and may we all find our own small fences along the way.