shyrebelwitch-blog

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#selfharmgifs

#letitout

#seekhelp

#self #harm

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Everything Okay?

If you or someone you know is suffering from an eating disorder, self harm, or suicidal thoughts, please visit our Counseling & Prevention Resources page for a list of services that may be able to help.

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Excerpt from Patricia McCormick’s Cut

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#maryahornbacher

#eatingdisorder

Wasted by Marya Hornbacher, Pulitzer Prize nominee. 

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google.com

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Disclaimer: This blog could be triggering and can contain mature content. Be aware of this before following or browsing. We are not pro-self harm. We all support and encourage recovery.

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how I push the cutting out of my head

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been tere. find someone to talk to

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because you push them away silly ghost, offer a strawberry or orange

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i know what it is i wanted so badly the day it first felt like spring, when i pictured kids riding bikes, dads cooking on grills, moms making lemonade.

i want to get better.  i know this isn't something to cry about. Tomorrow i'm going down  first thing in the morning and tell everything.

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he was there when i needed him the most

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run she said, and I found the wind to flee

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i go by Amanda's room, the phone booth, then my room. down the stairs to the laundry room, past the fire exit with the YOU ARE HERE sign. i stand in front of a door marked EXiT.

i push the handle and wait for it to hold fast. to refuse to budge. but it opens. easily and noiselessly. there's a tiny metallic clink as the latch gives way, then a clank as the door falls shut behind me. then silence. the only sound after that is the soft crunching of grass as my feet travel across the lawn.

i start running. the motion of running- the cycle of one foot appearing as the other disappears, the forward swing of one arm, then the other- comes back to me effortlessly. i feel good. i put more distance between me and the YOU ARE HERE door. then i feel a hundred eyes on my back, so i stop and turn around. the large picture window in the group room is dark. next to it, there's a narrow box of cold purple light- the bathroom window, where the light is always on. after the bathroom comes a row of black squares, dorm windows where no one's home.

i turn and start running again; this time, it's hard to get going. i put on a burst of speed, lose my balance, and stumble a little, then get back into the rhythm. the last open space between Sick Minds and the outside world is the maintenance shed. after that, woods.

getting through the woods beyond sick minds is easy; much easier than i would have thought. the trees are evenly spaced, with plenty of room between them, as if someone planted them in rows. they are pine trees after all. i want to laugh. but i don't. i keep running.

there's no fence, no wall at the edge of the property; i make a note of this, too, thinking how funny it would be to tell the other girls about how there's nothing really keeping us inside this loony bin. but i keep running, until the next thing i know, i'm on the side of the road. i pass an old brick house, then a cluster of newer houses; i run through an intersection, then onto the shoulder that runs alongside a highway with stores and more stores on either side.

i don't know how long i've been running. i put more distance behind me and i feel the white-out effect coming on, i try to hold one thing in my mind; my home address. i say it over and over and over, like the words to a magic spell. i say it over and over and over, like the words to a magic spell. i repeat the house number, the road name, the town, the state, the zip code, the house number, the road name, the town, the state, the zip code.

after a while, my mouth gets dry and my legs ache. it starts to get dark; drivers put on their headlights. my feet get heavy and clumsy; i weave a little, up on the paved white line at the side of the road, then back down on the shoulder. a horn blares from behind me; i trip, suddenly awake, gravel spraying under my feet before i catch my balance.

suddenly i doubt i even have the energy to make it the thirty or so steps. my feet scrape along the road, my knees go up and then down. i stop and wonder how there can be so little difference between running and stopping. i pick up one foot and then the other, and forced myself to walk the last few steps.

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sometimes it’s safer into the dark than to the light

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whencuttingfailed

i throw off the covers and crouch down next to the bed. i lift the mattress with one hand, grope around with the other. the mattress is surprisingly heavy. my arm shakes, bows under the weight of it. i fell it. way down near the foot of the bed is the pie plate. i stretch, grab it, and let the mattress come down with a plop.

i get back into bed, moving calmly and efficiently now, lie on my stomach, and pull the covers over my head. inside the dark blanket tent, i fold the pie plate in half, press it flat, bend it back and forth, back and forth, like i'm following a recipe, back and forth, until the fold is crisp. when i rip it, it gives way easily and i have two neat halves, each with a jagged edge.

i lay my index finger lightly on the edge of one half, testing it. it's rough and right.

i bring the inside of my wrist up to meet it. a tingle crawls across my scalp. i close my eyes and wait.

but nothing happens. there's no release. Just a weird tugging sensation. i open my eyes. The skin on my wrist is drawn up in a wrinkle, snagged on the edge. i pull it in the other direction and dull throbbing starts in my wrist.

i hold my breath and push down on the piece of metal. it sinks neatly.

a sudden liquid heat floods my body. the pain is so sharp, so sudden, i catch my breath. there's no rush, no relief. just pain, a keen pulsing, pain. i drop the pie plate and grasp my wrist with my other hand, dimly aware even as i'm doing it that this something i've never done before. never tried to stop the blood. never interfered. it's never hurt like this before. and it's never not worked.

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when lost, stuck, or just plain scared....always remember