I wrote this in one of my communities on Sunday. I've decided to put it in my personal journal as well now.

I hadn't cut since December 9, 2004. 254 days. But that is basically gone now. I hadn't been taking my meds consistently. I thought maybe I could do without them. But I fell into a depressive episode. I started taking them again last week and I've started to feel a lot better already. But... Last night I just lost it. The last few times I've been to the doctor I've gone through the cupboards and swiped those little surgical razors that go in a scalpal(sic?). At first I just did three tiny little scratches on my leg. The didn't even bleed. And I was like, "well, it doesn't really count, it's not like I really cut myself up." I decided to do one real cut. ( Could be triggering. )

I hate myself right now. But who am I kidding. I have been picking my skin for weeks now. Every tiny scratch I picked at until it was bigger, never letting it heal, making it bleed. I had a tiny pimple next to my nose that I scratched off. It's now almost a half inch in diameter of raw skin. I just kept picking and picking at it, making it bleed, making it hurt. A tiny ingrown hair on my arm has turned into a seriously painful scabby bump from me picking at it for weeks. I think I have caused permanent nerve damage.

I'm scared of myself. And now that I don't have so much time under my belt of not cutting, why shouldn't I just start doing it again? I have nothing.

My big scar on my leg looks kind of yellow. Weird.

My rapist is coming back like...now. In fact, he could be here already. I am so afraid he's going to call me.

Things are going really well with Cutter. But I've been really stressed (money, school, rapist, etc.) and honestly I don't know how I've kept myself from cutting. He doesn't want someone he cares about to hurt themselves, which is sweet and I understand that. But in that emotion he gets angry and hurt rather than trying to be supportive and sympathetic. If I cut he would be so upset with me. And then he'd say something about how a few of his ex's cut and then I'd feel like I did last night- like I have all of the negative qualities of his ex's and none of the positive. I told him that scares me, but he says that's not the way it is and I know he can't control how he feels, how he would react. I'm just scared because I am running out of non-self-destructive ways to cope right now.

So why is it that I still want to cut? I thought that my relapse would be a one time thing but at random moments I keep feeling the urge to cut.

The 30 cuts on my arm from last time are still healing, there are only a couple that are really scabs still, the rest are practically healed. Which is actually a good thing because it means that I won't have to explain it to my family over christmas. *cynical smile*

I should be feeling fine- finals are over, I'm taking it easy over the break and I'm spending a lot of time with Cutter! I feel happy in every sense except that I'm still feeling anxious and itchy...

I know I should tell Cutter and I am going to. I just still have no idea what to say. Especially since I can't explain why I'm feeling the way I am or what's triggering it.

Ok, I've calmed down and now I'm just left with a residual feeling of failure.

I want to call my mom and tell her what I did, that I cut again.  Go down and stay with my family for the weekend.  If only I thought she wouldn't try to have me committed...  Nah, she wouldn't when she realized how expensive it is.  And if someone forced me into it, I definitely wouldn't be the one to pay for it, that's for sure.

I don't think I'm serious enough of a case to be committed.  For Christ's sake, I have cut twice in the last two years.  Granted, this time I cut a lot (though not deep) and last time I cut way too deep.

I'm calmer now after talking with Cutter last night.  He hit on something that no one else has before, something that I held as my deepest fear that I was too afraid to say out loud for fear it would come true.

How can someone like me, who can barely take care of herself, have children.  I want so badly to have kids.  Not now, I mean, I'm only 21 and have lots of things I want to do with my life, but in the future...  I can't raise children without fucking them up if I'm fucked up...  My second greatest fear is that I'll pass on depression to my kids.  Depression runs in my family and I am one of those people who thinks it can be genetic.  I wouldn't wish all this on my worst enemy, how could I bring myself to chance it on my own child.

When Cutter hit on that, I broke down.  We were talking online (I was crying but luckily it's not like he could see or hear that) and I just had to log off.  We texted a couple times later that night, and he said "would you put a child in arms with 30 self-inflicted cuts?"  God I hope not.

There are two things that are most important to me to have in my lifetime: to fall truly in love and to have a family.  (Both are really along the same lines.)  Truly in love.  The kind of love where you love someone more each day whether you've been with them for ten months or ten years.  And have a family with that person.

Though aren't having children really only a means of self-fulfillment?  Someone theorized that having children is one of the only truly completely selfish acts.  You're bringing life into the world because you feel like it.  Because you want to see miniature versions of yourself or because you want to fix the mistakes your parents made with you or the mistakes you made as a child.  My motives?  I can't say I know for sure.  I love kids.  I haven't always.  In fact, there was a time not that long ago I wasn't sure I ever would want to have children.  I don't know what changed I guess.  I do know the mistakes my parents made that I wouldn't make.  But I don't think I'm the type to try to live vicariously through my kid.  There isn't anything that I really wish I had or hadn't done that I can think of trying to make my child go through.

Cutter isn't sure he'll ever want kids.  He says he doesn't even want to think about it right now.  Maybe I should prescribe to that.

I find out tonight if I have jury duty starting Monday or next Monday.  If I have jury duty Monday, I think I'll stay in Bellingham for the weekend since I'm serving in district court in Seattle and will be staying with my family.  If not until next Monday, I might go down and try to talk to my Mom about the cutting.  I need someone to help me through this right now and I'm too afraid that Cutter will get more upset with me if I try to talk about it with him.  Maybe I should tell him that.  He thinks I want sympathy.  I don't.  I want understanding and support.  It's not like the cutting is a stand alone problem.  It stems from something deeper and cutting myself doesn't cut it out, it's temporary relief.  I know it's not productive or a cure-all, but I guess I just ran out of ways to cope...

I haven't cut in so many months...since I cut myself so badly I couldn't hide the blood and my family found out about it and I promised my mom I wouldn't do it anymore.  (She worried about me for about two weeks which consisted of her repeating the phrase 'take care of yourself' more times than usual.)  I really should've gotten stitches that time too- the scar is huge.

And then tonight happened.  I have been feeling yucky for about a week.  You know the kind of yucky: where your skin crawls from you being inside it and your hand twitches wanting to grab a razor blade.  Well, at least, that's how I felt...  And I just couldn't take it anymore.  It's been months and I just happened to be by myself stared in the face by one of the random razor blades that I've kept around partly for the feeling of knowing I didn't have to cut...  I wasn't strong enough on my own at 3am...

Thirty cuts on my upper arm.  That's the most I've ever done at once.  Before the most I had cut at once was three long cuts on my leg.  I was always so careful about cutting where no one would see it...  I guess I don't care anymore.

One cut for every reason I hate myself...today

...and apparently he had a bit of a panic attack thinking that I for some reason might think we were still together.  (Well, if you've read my lj, you know I'm with Cutter and definitely don't think I'm with someone else!)  His little brother called me the other night upset because he just found out we had broken up and he apparently never told his family.  So he decided to just make sure I knew and sent me a re-break up e-mail.

It's always wonderful to open an e-mail to find a litany of all the reasons you aren't worth being with.  Highlight of my day, actually.

Ok, I know we've been broken up for a little while, but it still kinda sucks to hear it all over again.

I shouldn't have been so naive to think that someone would want me for the long haul.  I mean, everyone has issues but, well, I think I'm pretty fucked up.  I mean, some people just have a fear of commitment, I have a huge scar on my leg from cutting myself.

Cutter likes my scar.  He says it gives character.  And he understands about having something to remember that time in your life...

Why am I so naive?  To think that I actually was worth that kind of trouble...what a joke.  The thing is that I wasn't really upset when we broke up.  I mean, I gave him the easy way out and he took it.  I wouldn't have given him the easy way out if I didn't want him to take it.  But at the same time it bites to be rejected, even if I rejected him first.  It would be easier if I were over what happened when we first started dating...

I can't say I am totally to term with this, but everyone I've talked to says he raped me.

We were fooling around, he tried to have sex with me and I flipped (totally flipped as in crying and shaking and completely freaking out).  I said no, and he stopped.  We went to sleep.  Next thing I know, I wake up to him having sex with me while I was sleeping.  I flipped again and told him to stop and he did.  It happened one more time...but when I told him to stop he didn't right away- he stopped when I started sobbing and saying 'please, don't'.

If anyone else told me that story I would say it was rape...   I have difficultly calling it that- I just remember how I felt and how upset I was.

God I sure know how to pick 'em, don't I?