Yesterday I had a thought, which I didn’t like, while driving home in a big thunderstorm with lightning all around. It spontaneously came into my mind how nice it would be to die by being struck by lightning. I started wondering how much it would improve my chances by being in a wheelchair with a leg brace. Then I caught the thought, and was annoyed with myself for having a suicidal ideation fantasy.

I’ve been claiming that I don’t feel depressed any more; that I’ve moved away from having thoughts of suicide. I specifically said “I no longer — think about getting struck by lightning.” But there came the thought, suddenly, out of nowhere. Perhaps it’s a tough habit to break, even if one is not depressed. After all, there have been many years of my life when suicidal ideation has been a daily occurrence; just the normal state of being. I think that some of you can relate to this. Perhaps the lightning was a specific trigger. The closest I’ve come to an actual attempt was standing on a mountain top, six years ago, amidst the relentless lightning strikes. Perhaps I have an automatic association between lightning and the wish to…

There; that is my confession. I’m not going to overthink this. I’ll just let it go and move on.

I’ll back up. I went hiking yesterday. As you might guess, there was some bushwhacking: traversing on a steep slope above a creek through maple forest with a dense underbrush of scrub oak. It seemed like the only way to make progress further up the canyon, but it was very tough going. After almost an hour of this, and several unsuccessful attempts to get back down to the canyon bottom, I sat with my feet against a maple so that I wouldn’t slide down. The sitting position brought my thighs close to my face so that I could not help but contemplate all the cuts. The biggest one, on my right thigh, was six inches long.

“What do I think of this?”, I asked myself, remembering what I had written on this post. I had wondered if this plausibly deniable self-cutting was associated with depression. Well, there’s my answer. No, it isn’t. I happily continue to cut myself while bushwhacking.

I had also remarked that it’s not what you do but how you feel about it that makes it self-cutting. Well, my feelings were just the same as always. I’m pleased with all those intermingled cuts and scars. So no, this doesn’t neatly fit into the category of necessary collateral damage in order to reach the goal of my target peak.

After sitting for a while and contemplating my options, I decided to make a last determined effort to reach the canyon bottom again. This involved a descending traverse on progressively steeper terrain through progressively denser vegetation, while still heading up the canyon. The terrain got steep enough that I was mostly lowering myself down by grabbing onto tree branches with my arms. This is extremely bad for my fibromyalgia. It was especially bad because I had triggered an episode in my right shoulder by falling out of my wheelchair two days earlier. I’ve already posted the details of that little adventure today on http://ahiruzone.com in the “I fell out of my chair today” discussion.

The final part back down to the creek was vertical and slippery. Fortunately there was a snow bank beneath me so the forced jump wasn’t so bad. It was a calculated risk. It wasn’t obvious if the snow bank overlay solid ground or the creek. It held.

I thought about the difference between the pain in my shoulder and the cuts on my arms and legs. Why do I hate one, yet like the other? Does it have anything to do with visibility? No, I’m wearing a long sleeved sweater to work today specifically to minimise the visibility. Like most self-cutters I don’t like other people seeing my cuts.

The rest of the hike to the peak was relatively easy. The canyon bottom had widened out, so that I was walking on snow in a mixed aspen/white fir forest. Four and a half hours from car to peak.

After I got home and took off my long socks I realised that my lower legs were also covered in cuts and bruises despite the protection. I started counting the obvious cuts on my left arm, wondering how many I had acquired on the hike. I stopped at a dozen. There were clearly more on my legs than my arms, so the answer is simply “many”.

This morning Alicia compared enjoying my cuts to enjoying a steak. They are both satisfying and harmless if done in moderation. She has tattoos. She thought her feeling on getting a tattoo was analogous to my feeling on getting cut. We agreed that I would simply accept my cuts without passing self-judgement, without interpreting anything negative about them, without trying to find an explanation. In this particular regard my BIID is like my cutting. I don’t need to know why. It just is. It is neither right nor wrong, good nor bad. Accept it and let it be.

Sometimes people are hurting so much inside that I am at a loss for words. I would like to sit next to you; hold your hand; put my arms around you.

I would gently tell you that you are not a bad person; that you are a valuable human being; that there are people who will unconditionally accept you as you are; that you deserve to be loved; that you deserve to love yourself.

~ Chloe

You know a lot of what you’ve said is relevant to me. I dont think I’m good enough. I think I’m a pussy. I’m afraid of taking chances. I’m shy. I’m a self-cutter. I dont think I deserve love or happiness. And I dont have many people there for me.

Currently my fanincial stability is non-existant. The only thing keeping me off the streets is my grandparents generosity and because of pre-existing conditions of mental instability and the fact that my grandfather is the biggest ass in existence – that may not be true for long …

He keeps speaking of how my grandmother might not make it. How it doesn’t matter that the dog tore up the couch, she wont be using it much longer anyways, or how she wont have to come home to a messy house as she probably wont be coming home at all.

…My granny is slowly dieing and by him saying that, he is slowly killing me as well.

You see – the only thing thats honestly been keeping me alive is knowing that if I kill myself, it’d kill my granny. I may argue with her – but I love her.

My brother has been getting on me about why I havent called her – but honestly I’m scared shitless to call her. I dont want to even sense a hint of weakness in her. Even though she may have pneumonia – I dont want to hear it! Its hard enough to forget shes in there with everyone keeping saying that “Oh, I’m going to the hospital” Dont they understand what theyre doing?

Your a delicate cutter? I cut pretty heavily. It all really depends though. Sometimes it’ll be light scratches, other times its pretty heavy gashes. It depends on my mood really…

You already know but I can relate to Alicia … Theres someone that I’d literally die if she died. And that makes it even harder because she has a weak immune system, is known for suicidal attempts and depression and shit like that … If she died I’d know … We have a really strong connection.

And you know – happiness is strange. How is one to determine whether they deserve it? How do we measure how much its worth? Is it worth so much to hurt others – brutally torture their mind, their well being, just to cause yourself joy?

See – thats what bullies dont think of. “How is this going to affect him/her down the road”

…And the thing is – the person who bullied me the most – Derrek Bishop – He was hear a few months ago. And he actually apologized. I’m not really sure how to take it all in all. I mean … Do I accept it even though the great and utter irreversible pain he caused me, or do I continue to hold a grudge? Its difficult to accept that he might be sorry … Honestly he thought of his well being – he asked me several times during class ever odd day if I’d ever bring a gun or a knife to school and start killing people.

You know – friendship is another thing. It can bring happiness, joy, and chaos. Backstabbers, BFFs, shit like that … Everything interlaced into one person. The thing is – you never know when that invisible contract will go null and void. You never know who is just trying to get close to screw you over later. I dont trust people. Its as simple as that – but even so its easy to earn my trust … The only thing is – so many people take advantage of that.

And love … ~Sighs~ The only thing love has ever brought me is pain. Rachelle was the biggest example of that …

And then there was Aprille, or rather Raven as shes now called. I’d still rip my heart out of that girl if she’d take me back .. After all, a vampires love is forever …

Isn’t it funny how some emotions that one would never honestly consider thinking of are a day to day occurrence for others? I Honestly wonder how some people can be so happy ever freaking day. That can be completely content with their looks, their life, just … everything. How they dont honestly mind what others say and can’t hate a soul.

See – I’m the exact opposite of that Chloe .. I hate myself. I hate a lot of people. There are people I honestly think I could kill and not think twice about it. I’m suicidal every day. I’m rarely ever happy, 9/10 being depressed is just the norm. I have cuts laced around my arms from my wrist to my shoulder. Hell – I have one on my hand from where I pierced it through one side and out the other with a safety pin. I tried ripping it out afterward, but it wouldnt rip because their was too much skin.

I have cuts across my chest, stomach and thigh. I even have a pentacle cut into my forehead, though the scar isn’t noticeable …

And you know – so many people tell me I’m a bad person. That I’m going to hell. That I should be ashamed of myself. People have their children look away when I walk by. People, random people I dont even know, will walk up to me and ask me if I’m a cutter – as if thats an appropriate question for someone you dont even know! My general answer is non of your damn business.

Its gotten to where I dont even go out anymore, aside for groceries and the occasional restaurant visit. I dont mind going to China wall … Usually the people their are fairly sophisticated and too busy stuffing their faces to say anything. And you rarely ever see little kids there. Thats why I get so pissed going into places like KFC for example. Theres no where to sit to where you can see the entire restaraunt =/ And that makes me paranoid. And not only that – but theres always a little brat or some ingrateful adult their -_- Its like a breeding ground for ignorance =/

I honestly wish I could go to that workshop, or something similar. I wish I knew that when I wake up tomorrow, or next week, or next month, there wont be a for sale sign in front of my house. And even so – if there is – I wish I knew where I’d go. none of my friends are either willing are able to take me in.

Dustin is the only one that’d be willing TBH and his financial situation wont allow for it so .. Not only that, but I dont know if I could stand the days his mom and brother come over, and I’m not too fond of his grandmother so … That said – shes probably not too fond of me XD

Y’know though Chloe, I’m glad your happy for once. You may not think it – but you DO deserve happiness …

Its a fruit not many are able to pick …