Still…

I’m doing well. I really am. When I compare with my previous self there is no doubt that I’m in a much better place. Still, no matter how well I become, the devil on my shoulder remains.

That devil is destruction. Self destruction. Sometimes just flashes; a momentary thought of blood or blades. Other times I experience the deepest longing to ravage my skin. My reaction to pain is still, more often that I would like, the desire for more pain. Not the same kind of pain. A pain I can control. I have worked at working myself out. Learning healthy coping strategies, questioning myself, pinning down what I feel and why have been an ongoing process for decades. I am better. I haven’t self harmed in a very long time. I still want to, though.

Not everyday. Not in the compulsive ‘can’t think about anything else until it is done way’. I don’t berate myself for not cutting or create a mandatory timetable. That is gone. I have conquered that aspect of my demon. My problem is, the underlying urge never really goes away. In times of trouble my mind thinks it knows what will ‘help’. I suppose it’s like being an alcoholic. There will always be days when one really wants a drink, except in my case it’s a scalpel, not a bottle I want to reach for. The weird bit is that these thoughts aren’t reserved for awful days. Occasionally, for no reason whatsoever, a wave of craving will hit me. Honestly, my toolbox isn’t particularly helpful in those instances. It is very difficult to reason with a nonsensical ghost in your head. I’m left with sheer determination & an awareness of how slippery the slope is.

Strangely, I rarely hear anyone talk about this. There is much discussion about the warning signs for self harm, the damage it causes and how to stop. There is even information on how to treat wounds and hide scars. It’s all very much a before and after narrative. People are sick and then they recover. As I’m sure you’re aware, very few things are ever that simple. We generally understand the complex nature of addiction and mental illness. For example, much work has been done to educate people on eating disorders. Most people know how difficult they are to manage and recover from. It’s generally understood that people are not concretely cured. It is a process that involves relapses and continuous effort. Disordered eating becomes compulsive and corrupts thought patterns. Often nothing is as important as maintaining the disease. Likewise substance abuse takes over a person. The priority becomes obtaining the substance of choice. Whilst no one thinks that’s good or healthy, we do understand that people don’t want to be controlled by an illness. These are topics that are commonly discussed; we have compassion and celebrate those who have worked towards recovery. Not so for self harm.

Self harm is still taboo. There isn’t really any mainstream discourse of its realities. No one is making serious documentaries or accurate media portrayals. Celebrities aren’t telling stories of how they won their battle with self harm in the way they regularly do regarding addiction, eating disorders or issues like anxiety. The latter are viewed as brave and inspiring, self harm is still seen as disturbing. Even talk of relapse or the ongoing nature of recovery are received positively, but discussions like I had above is very much in the ‘crazy’ category for most. Despite the fact that statistics show the prevalence of ED & SH are fairly similar and that they share many commonalities, the public perception is very different. Even years into ‘recovery’ it frustrates me. The stigma sticks. I can carry the weight of other people’s judgement now. That wasn’t always the case and it won’t be for many still in the throes of illness. The fear of the judgement creates an impediment to seeking help. That delay is extremely dangerous. So, yes, I’m still talking about this because hardly anyone else is. I don’t believe people get better in silence and I think it helps to be prepared for what better might actually look like.

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My sign is vital, my hands are cold…

CW: Self Harm

Lately I’ve been having regular checks for the heart rate thing. The nurse who took my blood & vitals last week was really familiar. I had that strange I’ve definitely met you feeling, but also knew I didn’t know her, know her. I couldn’t place her at all until a loud clatter startled her. Her sharp intake of breathe shot me back in time.

She was the nurse I stunned with my self destruction in this same hospital many years ago. She either didn’t recognise me or correctly judged it best not to indicate that she had. She was friendly & kind, but the sound of that inhale shook me. I was back there, covered in blood & guilt.

I can so clearly remember walking into that triage room. Concisely explaining why I was there & seeing the doubt in her eyes. I could tell she thought the large towel on my arm was overkill. I knew she was weighing up how to nicely dismiss me. I was too tired to do anything other than unwrap the makeshift dressing & expose the truth.

Foggy picture of cars outside hospital. Words ambulance only painted on ground

The inner layers were blood soaked & the final one stuck to the wound. When I yanked it off with same the lack of self care that had led me to that room, she gasped. An entirely involuntary expression of what; shock? disgust? fear? I couldn’t discern, but I knew it wasn’t good.

The speed that she whipped through the triage routine was more about her discomfort than mine. I had long lost my objectivity. I sought treatment as a means of calling a halt to that cut. I had given up seeking enough. I knew that enough was a lie. When I looked at my arm I really couldn’t tell anymore if it was any worse than anything else I had done to myself. It was just another failed attempt to carve out some peace.

Peace that I knew was never coming. I already felt stupid & ashamed & so horribly guilty. For all the usual reasons and now also because it was obvious I had ruined this women’s night. She hadn’t bargained for my level of determined self loathing; I’d upset her. I felt selfish for not being more clear. I shouldn’t have allowed anyone to be caught off guard.

I wanted to be better. Do better. I wished I could give this nurse & everyone else the explanation they needed. I yearned to be somewhere else. I didn’t even want to do this anymore. My blades had long since lost efficacy. I could never cut deep enough. Never shed enough blood. The quiet I needed was evermore elusive. I was desperate and so fucking tired. Yet, I still couldn’t stop.

As I waited for her to finish with my blood pressure I was stuck in the past. Mired in the dread. Reliving the experience of having my arm stapled shut whilst already planning the next assault. Knowing I couldn’t escape the nagging voice in my head that insisted I must cut. I must earn any rest. I had to atone for sins I wasn’t able to articulate. I had to release all the fetid emotion with my blood.

When I left I felt blessed. And cursed. Blessed that I was wrong. I did escape. I have hushed that internal need for penance. Cursed because I still haven’t silenced it. There will always be triggers pulling me back. Days when my scars itch to be opened. You can’t play with fire & not get burned. The magic is remembering I know how to make it stop. I just have to wake up every day and choose this new, better life. Easy, right?

Black and white photo oh plus size woman looking at scarred arm

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Will you feel better…

My recent flare up has been tenacious. Stronger pain killers aren’t a practical long term option. As a result I’ve been trying other pain relief methods to back up my existing medication. Thankfully I have had some success, which I’m happy to share.

I’ll kick off with the simplest & easiest to access tool; the foam roller. I saw some insta posts about their usefulness with muscle pain. I had previously associated them with sports injuries & hadn’t realised it might be worth trying one myself. Over to eBay I go & purchase myself this neon friend. Including postage it cost around a tenner. They’re available in various sizes to suit different body parts. I opted for a bigger version to use on my lower back. It couldn’t be easier to use, simply amply a little pressure & roll the problem area. I’ve found it to be helpful for brief periods. I use it whilst sitting at my desk to reduce pain & stiffness. I also use it before bed so that I’m getting into bed in less pain. I’d definitely recommend giving this a try.

Orange & pink neon foam roller

Lidocaine patches are less accessible, but more effective. They deliver topical pain relief directly to a painful area. NHS guidelines on prescribing this treatment have recently changed due to cost. Meaning it is very hit & miss on which GP’s are permitted to prescribe them. The patches are only licensed (& mostly marketed) for treatment of shingles pain. However, this is only because shingles patients were used in the testing of the product. Pain specialists are increasingly prescribing this product for ‘off label’ uses. I found the 5% patches really effective at reducing pain in my arthritic knee & also fibro pain in the other areas. They don’t remove the pain, but I found a significant improvement. Unfortunately I’m not sure if I will be able to continue using them due the new restrictions. I will absolutely be pushing for them. I’d certainly suggest asking your Dr about them.

My latest discovery is Capsaicin cream. It’s derived from chilli peppers. It’s a topical cream that works by interfering with pain signal to the brain by reducing the level of a chemical (substance P) that binds with pain receptors. Studies are showing good results with Arthritis patients. I have been pleased with the relief it provides on my knee & other joints. My Gp suggested this cream & is happy to prescribe it. You can buy it over the counter (but it’s seems is not widely available yet). If you’re dealing with fibro, arthritis or similar conditions this is something to jump on.

Blue body with spine lit up orange & red

For reference I use regular pain medications along side these treatments. I’m not a medical professional, I share my experiences in the hope of helping others. If in doubt, always seek professional advice.

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