I have no idea what’s wrong with my mind. The past few days, maybe even a week, my moods have been swinging up and down and up and way down, from hour to hour. I can go from laughing with my roommates on my way to class, and come back two hours later with a rancid craving for sharp steel. I can go from being in philosophy class with Ryan, grateful to him for helping me throw away my razor blades, to coming home after another class, furious with myself for giving them to him, hoping he hasn’t destroyed them, that I might get them back. I go from smiling to Hillsong, trekking to my next class, to listening to the saddest music I can find, crying all the way home. Just today, I went from upbeat, to trying to scrub scars off my arm during down time at work, cursing my own stupidity, and wishing I could be normal for even a few moments.
If I could see triggers popping up unexpectedly in any of these situations, I might be able to understand. But I don’t.
As such, I have to lie to Corinne, Jess and Nicole when they find me curled up in some corner of our apartment, holding Orion and crying. I’m almost afraid to move around and function, for fear that I’ll hold on to a bad thought for a fraction of a millisecond too long, and send myself spiraling down into mental darkness.
It’s the middle of the semester, and everyone is starting to get stressed with the workload and midterms, so I don’t want to interrupt anyone’s day to tell them that I’m feeling down. I feel like talking about my depression and my desire to cut will be seen as an obvious grab at whatever pity I can get, when that’s not my intent at all. I don’t know what my intent is, I don’t know how I sound when I ask to be heard, I just know that I don’t want to get in the way. All three of my roommates, Ryan and I — all of us need to do well this semester, or face a myriad of unpleasant consequences. I don’t want to hinder that.
But the longer I hold it in, the closer I know I’ll get to finding something sharp and relentless, or to downing all the pills I’ve saved up and hidden. Part of me is outraged — I said I’d never go back to this, never go back to seriously considering suicide again. The other part of me– the heavy, sad, wounded part — tells me that I should just OD, cut myself up, and fade away. I hear both voices constantly, shouting at each other, at me, pointing out the strengths in their argument, demanding that I choose a side.
And somehow, I can sit here and type, biting my tongue to keep from screaming, wishing someone could see and do away with my illness, free me from these addictions, and erase my scars, someone who can tell me that I won’t die alone.
Or a hug.
I think that’s what I really need now. A big, safe, hug.
http://cmhackler.com/yes-i-am-a-christian/
This is a link to my blog, I would really like you to read my Die Daily Series. This is a series where I talk about things that come up in not only the Christian walk but in our everyday life. Reading what you have written here just about tears me up but there is hope. You have to have faith for without faith it is impossible to please God.