Self-Harm Is Self-Destruction

Whenever I felt pain or anger, whenever I felt the chains of depression weighing me down or the memories of PTSD suffocating me I would become self-destructive. Because that was subconscious’s mission in life: to destroy me.

My mind felt that I deserved pain, I didn’t deserve to feel happy. I didn’t deserve to know what it was like to not feel as if I am drowning in pitch black water every day. I didn’t deserve to feel free; free of madness and suffering.

I blamed myself. I blamed myself for the tears that I wept, the hateful words yelled at me, and all the pain of others. It was my fault…or at least this was the argument that my mind made. If my mind had told me that WWI was my fault I probably wouldn’t have even blinked.

So, the question I asked myself in moments of lostness and anger was: “How do I cope with this without killing myself?”

Well the answer seemed simple at the time but it wasn’t a healthy answer either. I shall not describe in explicit detail otherwise you may foresee these as instructions and I cannot hold the blame nor guilt of your own choices, but all it got me in the end were scars along my wrist, hips, and thighs and a moment of silence in my mind. It was so that I could take the anger out on myself, so that I could remind myself that I am human and I still bleed, that I am still vulnerable… so that I could feel again.

For those of you who read this and understand beyond just words but unfortunately understand the emotions then please know this: it is only a brief escape from a long-term madness.

Although it may feel like it is your only option: your only way out. Then remember that even Alice had to come back from Wonderland.