Possible trigger warning: like all of my personal posts, there is a slight trigger warning but more so in this post in particular. In this post, I mention self-harm and b/p. It’s not graphic but I just thought a trigger warning should be mentioned.
I’ve been “clean” for seven months. Or perhaps it would be more apt to say, I haven’t relapsed in seven months. It’s been a breeze but recently, it has become an hourly struggle.
Since I was eleven years old, I self-harmed and had an on and off relationship with binge/purging and restricting. So really, I’ve spent the majority of my life trying to self-destruct.
There are many reasons why I started when I was eleven; too many to list. Was it a cry for help, to be noticed, to regain control, to remain small, to become invisible, to die, to alleviate the emotions? It’s so much more than any of that but this post isn’t about the whys and the causes.
I stopped (cold turkey) all of my self-destructive behaviours by the beginning of January 2019. I entered treatment in January and when I “needed” a release the most, I forced myself to feel and not escape; I didn’t want the distraction that self-harming and b/p would give me.
Don’t get me wrong. Quitting was hard. It’s been a coping mechanism since I was eleven and it morphed, along the way, into an addiction. You’re wondering how could self-harming and b/p be addictive? Endorphins, pain, release, peace, calm, control…all of the above. Even now, I still think about self-harming, b/p and restricting daily. I realize it’ll always have space in my mind, it’ll always stay with me. You can never fully get over your addictions, you just learn to live with them.
In treatment, I left my self-harming kit by my bed as a “back-up plan” in case things got too much for me to bear. As treatment progressed, it became a totem for me. Needing and wanting it, then realizing I no longer needed or wanted it; a reminder I could be strong and I didn’t need to self-destruct to deal with life. Then it hit me in my second last week of treatment. I still used the self-harming kit as a coping mechanism, even if I didn’t use any of its contents. So I moved it out of sight and moved on with my life.
The hours turned into days, days into weeks, weeks into months. Now, seven months later, I find myself here.
Here, in an hourly struggle of trying not to relapse. It’s been really hard since Saturday night. I fucked up hard at work on Friday and I spent the weekend crying, unable to sleep, not eating and yes, wanting to reach for my old coping strategies. I’ve tried ones I learned in treatment: self-care (face masks, makeup, vlogging), watching new tv shows, you name it, I tried it. It hasn’t worked, I even try and take naps to escape my thoughts but even in sleep, my thoughts haunt me. I can’t seem to shake my thoughts from my head. I’m mortified, ashamed and self-loathed when I think about my colossal mistake at work.
I can’t escape my thoughts and I don’t know how I don’t remember how to release them in a healthy way. I don’t have anyone to talk to in my life, my support network imploded into dust so I’m writing it here. It’s not enough but it’ll have to do until I see my therapist in two weeks.
I journaled last night and almost, almost relapsed. The only thing stopping me is that it has been seven months. Seven. Months. I keep reminding myself. The competitive and obsessive part of myself is pushing me to continue this seven-month streak.
I know it’s just a number, I know relapsing is normal when starting recovery, but we don’t fully recover and leave behind our old selves. We fold them into pebbles and place them in our pockets, carrying their weight with us wherever we go. Even if we let go, they never fully let go of us.
I’m trying to get through the days without relapsing, taking it hour by hour. I’m scared, isolated and terribly sad. But I’m trying, hour by hour, it’ll have to be enough for now.
I hope you are well and taking care of yourself. If you are in the dark, know I am there too. If no one has told you today, I love you, stranger. Even if we’ve never spoken or met, you matter to me. You’re working hard at living and you’re doing your best. Be proud of yourself for that.
Thank you, as always, for reading.
Much love,
Annie xoxo
Honeysuckle Haiku 