World Mental Health Day

Today is World Mental Health Day so please remember your mental health & emotional well-being are just as important as your physical health is.

Mental illnesses are as real as physical ailments & just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean a mental illness doesn’t exist.
I talk about mental health a lot because I want others to feel like & know that it’s okay to talk about it. You’re not alone, not a freak, not weak, not broken, not a burden, not useless, not crazy, not less worthy as a person in any way because you’re struggling with a mental illness. It’s a disease, not a character trait or flaw in your personality.

It’s hard finding courage to speak up & reach out but YOU CAN DO IT. If you can’t face to face tell someone, do it over a phone call. If you can’t find the words to vocalize, write it out. If you don’t feel comfortable or safe talking to anyone you know, there are helplines you can call & online chat services you can use.

Mental illnesses can make you feel like no one understands, no one cares, no one will miss you, the world would be better off without you & your problems & all of that is so very wrong. I care & I’ve met so many other people like me out there that care & we care even if we barely know you because we know how painful, isolating, heartbreaking & damaging it is to feel like no one cares or understands. We know what it’s like to battle our own thoughts & feelings & we just don’t want to see anyone thinking they have to go through it alone.

Also remember that you’re never being selfish for putting your health first & taking care of you. You need to fo that the same way you need to breathe and eat to keep on living. Anyone that tells you you’re being selfish for taking care of you in whatever way you need to is not someone you need to listen to.

People who make life changes to physically better themselves are praised for it while people who have depression, anxiety, ptsd, bipolar disorder, eating disorders & other mental illnesses are told to get over it or told to not talk about it at all. It shouldn’t be that way & I’m fighting to see a change made in how mental illnesses are seen & treated. The more we talk, the more we break down the barriers of stigma that surround mental health & the people struggling. The more we break those barriers down, the more we normalize what should be a regular topic of discussion for our own health and well being. The more we do that, the easier it will be for people to open up without the fear that they’ll be judged, ridiculed, dismissed, labeled, written off or ignored.

Lastly, remember if you think someone you care about is struggling, reach out to them & ask how they’re doing. Kindness is free. Sometimes just knowing someone cares helps so much.

Therapy and 20 things to be happy about.

*Dusts off blog*

I recently started seeing a therapist. I say recently because it hasn't seemed like long at all but now that I think about it, it's been several months since I made my first appointment. That's not really what this post is about though I mentioned it because therapy is what plays a role in me sitting here typing into this screen.

I love writing. I used to write often. I was even working on a book of short stories at some point last year. The worse the state of my mental health got, the less I wrote until I had stopped completely. Only a few people knew about the short stories I was writing and anyone ever asking how my writing was going once I had stopped was painful. I didn't want to admit that I'd lost my desire to do one of my favorite things. That my head was in such a dark place, all I could think to write was things I didn't want other people reading because it seemed so telling to me. So, I'd put on that fake smile I was so used to and oddly very comfortable wearing and would say it was going fine, that I just needed to make more time to write. Or some such nonsense to hide the fact that I'd stopped. 

In seeing a therapist, we got around to discussing why I wasn't writing. She suggested I try blogging again since I'd previously mentioned that before. She thought it would help, for a number of reasons. I sat down and tried more times than I can remember only to walk away sad and frustrated and angry at myself for not being able to put anything to paper. Once, she mentioned I could try blogging about mental health. I automatically rejected that because I hadn't even told anyone I was seeing a therapist. She mentioned it again a couple months later. I tried. Instead, I took to my Twitter account and started tweeting about mental health there more often, joining the #EndTheStigma crowd. 140 characters or less was pretty much all I could manage in terms about speaking about mental health but I was happy because I was making progress. My thoughts were coming together again and I was able to actually connect with several new people who were looking for people that understood what they were struggling with. 

So here I am today, writing this and feeling like a champ because this far exceeds a handful of 140 characters or less tweets. Though if you follow me on Twitter, don't think the mental health tweets will be going away because it's something I feel strongly about and I've found a little community on there where it's never discouraged to speak openly about mental health. I hope one day that's something that happens on a much larger scale and I think talking about it is a good way to break down stigma and encourage people to talk about it so it's not seen as something embarrassing or something to be ashamed of. I digress.

I decided that at least once a month, I'm going to post a list of things that make me happy because that gives me a goal to reach for in terms of getting some writing done. That's an easy subject because I've no shortage of good things in my life and oddly I haven't really lost sight of that. Which has made the struggle for mental health harder for a few reasons but that's another post for another day. Maybe. 

Anyway.... 20 things seemed like a bit of a challenge but not too difficult of a goal to reach so there's where I'll start. If you've ever done a list like this, you know it's never as easy as it sounds. 

20 Things To Be Happy About

1.) The rain finally stopping so I can get in some pool time. 

2.) I don't hate my job. So many people I know go to work every day dreading it so I'm thankful that the few days I do go in dreading it, it's just because I know the day ahead will be a particularly trying one or because I'm in a mood that has nothing to do with work itself.

3.) Short hair for the summer. 

4.) My birthday is June 15th and the boyfriend's is two weeks later. So we're having a joint birthday party on one of the weekends between the two. I'm looking forward to all the tasty food I'll get to make for that because I love cooking for others.

5.) Orange juice with a half a teaspoon of honey mixed in.

6.) Books, always and forever.

7.) An upcoming trip to Las Vegas.

8.) Our boyfriend and I just celebrated our 9th anniversary at the end of May.

9.) The smell of cinnamon rolls filling the apartment in the morning.

10.) How quiet the gym is at 6 AM.

11.) A friend is getting married next weekend and his pure excitement and happiness rises the closer the day gets and that's one of the sweetest things ever.

12.) My volunteer group. They're a bunch of weirdos but they make all the Saturday mornings I spend with them so much more enjoyable.

13.) S'more Oreos because I love almost all of the things that are S'mores.

14.) Supportive family.

15.) Having a handful of great people in my life that can always make me laugh.

16.) Vegetable and herb garden. Which is something I didn't ever think I'd enjoy but there's something awesome about being able to grow your own peppers and herbs.

17.) Board games and card games and all the games you can sit around a table playing. I grew up playing games with my family and thankfully I have a partner and a couple friends who enjoy playing games, too. 

18.) The days on the weekend where I actually manage to sleep in passed 6:30 AM.

19.) New running shoes that are actually comfortable from the start.

20.) Being comfortable in my own skin.

Happy Thursday!

It Can Get Better....

**Trigger warning: suicide**

My mom's birthday was yesterday. I realized last night that I had several more people to get birthday cards for in the next few months. My sister's birthday is next month, my dad's is in December, my youngest brother's is in January and I have a small handful of friends and a couple coworkers all with birthdays coming up in the next few months. I got the clever idea that I should make a quick list so as not to forget anyone and then go buy all the cards I need for the next few months all at once so I don't have to run to the store in the name of birthday cards nine times over the next few months. I also wouldn't have to worry about having to run out last minute in case I ended up losing track of the days and then remembering, "hey I need to send so-and-so a card because they're birthday is two days away!"

So I got my list together, double checked to make sure I wasn't forgetting anyone I planned on sending one to and then set off to get what I needed.

I love sending cards and letters. I'm one of those weird people that still enjoys hand writing out letters and thank you notes and sending them off in the mail. I almost always write an extra little note inside of cards I send because there's almost always something missing that I want said in whatever card I find. 

Sometimes, I hate looking through cards, though. Sometimes, I'm looking through cards looking for a specific one. In this instance, the birthday card for my sister. Then it springs to mind that, hey, Amanda's birthday is the same day as my sisters is! I think for a second I need to get her one too and then I remember that no, no I don't need to get her one because she's been dead since she killed herself this passed June. And then I'm standing in Hallmark with tears rushing down my face while I stand in front of a row of cards that I can't really see anymore. I'm sad and I'm crying and I'm trying to stop and I feel so grateful I have on a hat that covers half of my face and relieved the ladies in that store leave you alone unless you need their help and angry at myself for breaking down in public and sad again all because I can't buy my friend a birthday card because she's gone. 

So I leave without getting anything because I can't stop crying and I don't like to cry in public. I don't like to cry in front of people I know. Mostly I don't want to make a scene and don't want to explain to strangers why I'm standing in Hallmark with tears rushing down my face and I needed quiet and solitude to get myself calmed down again. So I sit in my car for 10 minutes. I think about just driving the four minutes back to my apartment but I'm stubborn and want to get what I came out for. I feel like I'm letting myself down if I go home, letting my emotions and anxieties chase me back home without completing a task. I don't want to let these things rule me, so I don't. I'm fine. So, I let myself finish crying until it doesn't feel like there's a gaping hole in the my stomach. I open my door and splash my face with water from a bottled water I had with me. I turn on some loud rock music and I take some long, deep, calming breaths and then I'm fine again. I go back in, get an odd look from the lady at the counter and I smile and she does a strange little head bow and smiles at me as I get back to buying cards. 

Suicide is hard. Death is hard enough on it's own but suicide makes something hard and makes it even harder to cope with. You're in denial because no, no, no, my friend/loved one is fine and would never do that. Even if they weren't fine, this can't be right because they wouldn't kill themselves. They have friends, they have families, they seem happy and content with life. Or they're struggling but they have family and friends and people that care about them, people that love them, people that would do anything within their power to move the whole fucking Earth to make things better or at least more bearable. There's no way they would do that. You'd know, you'd be able to tell, right? Right? Wrong. 

You wonder why they would've done this. You don't understand. Amanda didn't leave any kind of note explaining anything. From what I've come to understand, most whom commit suicide don't leave any kind of thought out note explaining or saying goodbye. The hardest part with reaching acceptance of their death is accepting that you'll just have to accept that they're gone without understanding why they took their life.

I cried a lot in June after Amanda's death. News of her suicide came just a few hours after I'd gotten home from celebrating my birthday and Father's Day with my family and boyfriend. I was having a party the following weekend that she was going to attend. I struggled a lot the first few weeks. Then I cried less. Then I didn't cry at all. Then the realization I wouldn't need to buy her a birthday card and wouldn't have to worry about getting her a gift for the awesome birthday party that was planned months in advance was the first time I'd cried over her death since the first week in September.

I don't know if she thought death would be easier. I don't know if she couldn't bear the thought of living life anymore after the events that lead up to her taking her life. I don't know if she was thinking her kids would be better off. I don't know if she just panicked. I don't know if thought and planning went into it. I don't know if she was just that depressed. I don't know if any of the things that I've turned over in my head after her death were thoughts she had or not. 

I do know that suicide isn't the answer. I'm not just speaking as someone that has lost someone to suicide, or someone that has lost two people she cared deeply for to suicide but also as someone who has thought about it and fought through depression more than once. 

I stood on a bridge once when I was 17 and thought about climbing the rails and jumping. I stood there, running my hands over the cold metal and looking down into the waters below me and thought I could just climb over, jump and nothing would hurt anymore. I've always loved bodies of water; they're calming to me. I leaned over the railing, listening to waves crashing and water churning and I felt like pushing myself over it and letting myself drown would be the most fitting way for me to go. I remember thinking it like it was the most logical thing in the world because at the time, I was a mess and just didn't want to live anymore. I was about to climb the rail when a cop car pulled up and the officer got out slowly, calling out to me. I remember how slowly he approached me, how soothing he sounded and how angry I instantly became because I knew he was ruining everything for me. It was late at night and he was curious why a young girl was out so late, by herself, hanging out on the bridge. I knew he knew what I was thinking of doing and he stood there with me, asking me if my family knew where I was at this hour. He made a few jokes and told me I needed to get on home. He followed me as I left. He followed me and made sure I actually went back home. I cried myself to sleep that night because I was so angry and sad and hurt. I cried until I couldn't breath anymore, my face buried in a pillow, my fists clenched and punching the mattress. 

I decided then I couldn't commit suicide. Not because I suddenly wanted to live but because I couldn't do that to my family. I couldn't hurt them that way and I resented them for that. So, my depression got worse, I started drinking more and doing drugs a lot more. I smoked weed and took Xanax I got from a coworker as often as I could. I moved out and moved in with a friend who was a drug addict himself. We had neighbors who were big partiers. I did more drugs. I drank way more. I didn't want to kill myself anymore because I spent so much time high so I wouldn't hurt anymore. Until I came down, felt worse and wanted to die all over again. It was the worst cycle in the world.

I contemplated suicide occasionally still but then I'd just get high or take a few drinks from a bottle and I'd feel "better" again and then I wouldn't think about how I wanted to die anymore. Then one day, I met this guy. He was waiting in an office with me to do a job interview and I remember we were sitting there together, not saying much at all, then he suddenly looked at me and asked, "so why are you so sad?" I remember blinking at this guy a half dozen times trying to figure out what his deal was. He shrugged and said, "I'm a mess, I guess I recognize it in others." I just shrugged. Then this guy starts telling me that he applied for this job because he was starting over. He told me he had been really depressed and had tried to kill himself. He told me he had tried to jump off of a bridge but had figured it wrong and ended up landing wrong, breaking both of his legs instead. He was recovered and it would be the first job he'd had in a while because of that. He waited for me to talk. I just stared at him, goosebumps on my skin, not really capable of saying anything even if I had wanted to. This kid jumped from the same bridge I had only months ago contemplated hurling myself over. I've never believed in coincidences but I couldn't figure this out. We both ended up getting hired and we started working together a week later. He only worked there for six weeks but in that six weeks, he talked to me a lot about suicide and depression. It took me about a month to realize I didn't really want to die anymore. Not just because I didn't want to hurt my family but for a ton of other reasons. I don't even remember his name. I wish I could because I wish I could tell him thank you for saving me from myself. It sounds cliche but I was planning on trying again. I was trying to figure out ways I could do something to where it seemed like an accident and not suicide. My family would still be hurt but it wouldn't be as bad as losing someone to suicide. In the weeks I worked with that guy, he spent a lot of time talking at me, even though I often didn't say anything back to him at all. Then one night, I remember getting high with my then boyfriend and then sobbing into his shirt because I didn't want to die. I remember telling him everything and all he did was hold me while I ugly sobbed and came undone. I stopped thinking I'd be better off dead. Unfortunately it took quite a while longer to stop using drugs to get me through the day. It took years before I stopped abusing substances to make myself feel "better" but I got there, eventually. 

That was the first period of my life where I very seriously considered suicide a viable option and unfortunately, it wasn't the last. However, I'm still here and suicide is not something I entertain the idea of anymore. Currently, I'm struggling with issues that I'm not really ready to openly talk about here yet. I'm not ashamed of them and I'm not too scared to discuss them. I'm just not ready to put it all out there. I feel like when I understand it all better, I'll be more willing to discuss it in a more open venue.

Some days I think about the periods in my life where I thought I should just kill myself and I'd like to punch that silly girl. I'd also like to hug her and let her know how much strength she really had despite how pathetic and weak she thought she was. 

It can get better. Some days, it will suck. Some days, it feels like everything is wrong. Like nothing you do is right. Like nothing is moving forward in a better direction. Those days happen and you can't beat yourself up over them. You can't get stuck in those days.

No matter how alone you feel or how much you feel like absolutely no one in the world could possibly care or understand what you're going through, you are not alone. There are people out there who will understand or at least try to understand. There are people out there who will offer you empathy and support because they genuinely want you to feel better. Those people could be friends, family members, professional health care workers, a trusted co-worker, someone in an online support group or a stranger on the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. Hell, you can email me and I'll talk to you. Just talk to someone. Suffering in silence doesn't help. You deserve better than that. You're worth more than that. 

Getting help doesn't make you weak. You don't have to be ashamed or afraid. You're not wrong. You're not broken. You're not beyond repair. Your mental illness and issues do not define who you are as a person. Whatever you're facing, it can get better.

I just need to get this out.

Sometimes you find yourself in a bad place without realizing immediately how you got there. Which seems like a weird thing for a moderately self-aware person. Shouldn't you realize that you're on a decline? That you're slipping further away from the people and things that make your life a bearable and better place? Maybe it should be easier to see but that's not the way it always is. Sometimes people are really good at hiding it. Sometimes people don't even realize it's happening until they're at the bottom looking up, perplexed at how they didn't notice they were sliding downward before then. 

Three weeks ago, my friend Amanda was involved in a murder/suicide. In light of that, I learned a month prior she had tried to commit suicide. I knew she was struggling and I knew she wasn't in a good place. I didn't know how bad it was. I didn't know the depth of the negative emotions she was feeling. As someone who has been in a bad place more than a couple times, I never hesitate to ask if someone is okay when I notice something is amiss. You can't do more than ask and offer support. You can't push someone to let you help them when they just smile and tell you they'll be fine, they're just stressed from XYZ. That life isn't great but they're okay. They promise they're okay. They'll promise if they really need someone, they'll reach out to you. It's an incredibly frustrating feeling to watch someone you care about be in pain, physically or emotionally, and not be able to help them through it. All you can do is trust that when they say they'll reach out if they truly need it, that they will. And you can hope they mean it and feel a little better as they smile at you and thank you and promise you they won't suffer in silence. You can let a little of the uneasiness go as they put an arm around your shoulder or hug you and you can feel a little more secure that everything is going to be okay.

I'll never know why my friend did what she did and I'll never know why her ex did the things he did. I've refused to speculate about any of the "maybes" and "what ifs" because I wasn't there and couldn't possibly know what happened. The only thing I know for certain is what the ultimate outcome was and that's that two people died senselessly and needlessly leaving behind a lot of confusion, sorrow, anger and pain for their loved ones to deal with. 

I could barely get through that first week without crying every time I thought of her. I couldn't avoid learning some of the specific details of it so I had nightmares of my friend laying in a pool of her own blood with her big eyes staring lifelessly into nothing several times. I cried for the two young kids she left behind. I cried for her family for the raw agony they displayed. I cried until my body hurt because it hurt and because I was confused and angry. 

My boyfriend and I had a joint birthday party the week after she died. We went to her funeral the morning of the party and I was a wreck. She was supposed to attend the party that night and yet there I was, sitting in a church, looking at pictures of her cycle through on a wall. Pictures of her and her kids. Pictures of her looking so happy. Doing things she loved doing. Being the kind-hearted person she was. Being the girl I met at a mutual friend's party years and got along with immediately. The first time I met her we spent the rest of the time there hanging out, laughing and joking like we'd seen each other many times before. I don't often connect with people like that and it didn't matter how much time went by between times of seeing each other, it was always like we'd just seen each other last week. I remember sitting there watching pictures and notes scroll by on the wall and wanting to cry because I was supposed to see her later that night, not see pictures of her and mourn her death. 

The first hour or so of the party that night, I felt like I was just going through motions and not really in it at all. One of my friends came in, came into the kitchen and hugged me so tightly for much longer than he normally does and I almost lost it then. He said, "I know this sucks and I know you're sad but everyone here is happy to see you and happy to be spending time with you and would do anything to stop you from hurting if they could. That's got to make you feel a little better." He was right and then I did cry a little because him saying that brought the warmest feeling I'd felt all week. I decided then not to let my pain and grief run things but there were a few times where I'd look around the apartment full of talking, smiling, laughing people and I wished so hard that she'd walk in and I'd realize it was all just a bad dream. Of course, that's completely unrealistic and I knew that even as I was thinking it but it's hard not to wish things like that when you're dealing with the death of someone you cared about.

I know better than to feel guilt and blame myself in situations like this. I had a good friend commit suicide years ago when I lived in California. I felt a lot of guilt over that at first but I realized placing blame on myself for someone else's actions was just bad for me. It didn't bring them back and it only added to all the negative feelings I already felt. I've learned that you can't blame the things you didn't do or blame yourself in any way in situations like this. A friend of a mutual friend went on a tirade about how we were all the blame for her death because none of us did enough. He didn't share my feelings on blame and that made me sad for him. It's easy to look at something after the fact and find ways where you could have done more but who's to say that one more time would have been the time that made the difference? You have no way of knowing one way or another. You're only hurting yourself even more during a time where you're already hurting enough without rubbing salt in your own wounds.

I wish she would have said more. I wish I had known she had tried to kill herself a month prior to the murder/suicide happening. I understand why her family kept that private and understand why she wouldn't have told anyone about it. I wish she wouldn't have stayed in an abusive relationship for so long before finally deciding to leave. I wish she would have asked me or anyone else for help. I wish she could have found the peace she was always searching for. I wish a lot of things had been different because then maybe my friend and her ex would both still be alive but I don't blame myself in any way.

You can offer to help someone all you want but that doesn't mean they'll ever take it. You can care and worry until it hurts, until it wears on you physically and mentally, you can do everything in your power but you can't make a person let you in or accept that they can't do it on their own. Sometimes, they will. Sometimes, you'll offer and they'll let down their defenses. They'll open up and let you see that raw vulnerability and you'll be there as they travel back up. It'll be hard and it'll hurt but they'll get there.

Sometimes, they won't ever do anything they say they will because even when it's being offered, sometimes it's just too hard to accept the help people are offering. It's such a silly notion because on paper it seems so easy. You're struggling and slipping further into a darkness that's stealing away the light from your life. People notice and offer you the help you need because you're losing the fight on your own and having another person or two or four to help you through it would make things easier. So you ask for help and those people do what they can to offer their support and do whatever they need for you. It's different than people who suffer on in silence without no one noticing and not being able to say anything on your own. You've got people noticing and you've admitted things suck a little and you're not dealing with it well. On paper, it's easy. On paper, it's so black and white and simple that it makes no sense for this to fail.

Mental illness isn't just black and white and simple. It's not neat and easy. It's one thing to know people are there for you but to be able to reach out and admit that you're really not okay and don't think you can make it back up on your own? It's hard. So hard. There are so many reasons why someone might not reach out when help is being offered to them. It's easy for people to say, "here, just tell me what's wrong and we'll fix it!" when they're not the person sitting there trying to figure out what's wrong and feeling like there's something deeply wrong with them for feeling the way they do. It's hard to ask for help when you feel so broken and wrong that you feel like nothing anyone could possibly say or do would ever make you feel any better. It's hard to see that things could get better when they're bad. Especially if it's been bad for so long. Sometimes you think you should be able to fix your own problems and assume that if you can't even figure out how to fix yourself, no one else will either. Sometimes you don't want to admit to anyone else how bad you really feel. It's tough to open yourself up that way and to be that vulnerable to other people. What if they react poorly? Maybe they'll judge or laugh? Maybe they'll brush it off because maybe it's really not as bad as it seems? What if they treat me differently? What if they think I'm lying? Maybe they'll be indifferent? What if they don't care as much as I thought they would? What if they can't help me? Maybe they'll think I'm just crazy?

So many things keep people from reaching out. It's hard to see that there's any light left when you're so far down. No matter how many people tell you they're there for you, it's not always easy to believe them and not always easy to let go and ask for help. You know that even if you can't open yourself up to friends and family members, there are hotlines and professionals you can reach out to for help.Sometimes even reaching out to a stranger is terrifying. Admitting there's something wrong and admitting you might need help to yourself is one of the hardest things to do. Reaching out to get that help no matter who you're thinking about reaching out to is tough and scary as hell. A lot of people don't realize how much strength and courage it takes for a lot of people to speak up, to say something is wrong, to admit to themselves and others that they need help.

There's still such a stigma deeply rooted here and that alone makes it even harder for so many to seek out help. If I could, I'd help everyone see that it's never too late for them. It sounds so cliche but it's true. As long as you're living and breathing, it's not too late to say something. It's not too late to get help and get back to a better place. It might take a while and it will be hard and it will hurt and it will suck for a while more but it can get better. It will get better.

 I miss her and it still hurts. I wish she would've felt like she had another option. That things could have gotten better. That it wasn't too late. It doesn't always work that way, unfortunately. Sometimes, mental illness wins out and it's crushing. I know she'll never see this but I'm not really writing it for her. I talked to the boyfriend a little about how I was feeling but I didn't talk much. Talking about the way I'm feeling isn't easy for me. Writing my feelings has always been a hundred times easier than speaking them, even if it's someone I trust and love, it's hard to verbalize my emotions and the way I'm feeling. I've written some in a pen and paper journal but I wanted to blog about mental illness again and this all just kind of spilled out in the process. I thought about deleting a lot of this but I figure, if it spilled out, I needed to get it out, so I'll leave it as is. I'll always miss her and it'll probably always hurt a little bit in that aching kind of way that hits you when you think of someone you've lost but that's just a part of living life.

National Self-Injury Awareness Day

March 1st is National Self-Injury Awareness Day. This is a subject I feel deeply about as I have a lot of personal experience with it. In this post, the only things I will be talking about is Self-Harm Awareness and my own personal experiences with it. The first half of the post is mostly information and awareness on self-harm, the second half is where things get personal. It's a really long post but please take the time to read it. Self-harm is a more serious issue than people tend to realize and isn't something that should be taken lightly or treated as if it were just a minor annoyance instead of an actual problem that needs to be addressed.

From the American Self-Harm Information Clearinghouse:

"Approximately 1% of the United States population uses physical self-injury as a way of dealing with overwhelming feelings or situations, often using it to speak when no words will come. Despite the fact that self-injury is far from rare, myths and misunderstanding surround this psychological ailment -- mistaken ideas that often result in self-harmers being treated badly by police, doctors, therapists, and emergency room personnel.

Self-harm scares people. The behavior can be disturbing and difficult to understand, and it is often treated in a simplistic or sensational manner by the press. As a result, friends and loved ones of people who self-injure often feel frightened, isolated, and helpless. Sometimes they resort to demands or ultimatums as a way of trying to regain some control over the situation, only to see things deteriorate further.

The first step toward coping with self-injurious behavior is education: bringing reliable information about who self-injures, why they do it, and how they can learn to stop to people who self-injure and to their friends, loved ones, and medical caregivers. ASHIC was founded to meet this need for honest, accurate information.

In response to society's mistaken ideas about self-harm, the American Self-Harm Information Clearinghouse was created to educate and inform medical and mental health professionals, the media, and the general public, sorting myth from fact and explaining what is known about self-harm. One of ASHIC's major projects is National Self-Injury Awareness Day. In this grassroots effort, people across the country and the world whose lives have been affected by self-injury deliver fact sheets, reports, and brochures to those who make decisions about the treatment of those who self-harm."

I wrote a blog post back in December on glamorizing self-harm (here) and in that post I also touch a little on my own history with self-harm.

I used to cut. A lot. It's kind of funny how open I am about it now considering when I cut, I went to so much trouble to keep the marks hidden and keep anyone from finding out. There are a lot of myths and misconceptions about self-harm and the people who use it.

• Self- harm is a failed suicide attempt.
• People who self-harm are looking for attention or pity from others.
• Self-harm is just a manipulation tool.
• Only deeply depressed people self-harm.
• Only teenagers self-harm.
• Only "emo" or "goth" kids self-harm.
• People only self-harm while high or drunk.
• Only people with a drug/alcohol problem self-harm.
• Only people who are psychotic self-harm.
• Cutting is the only way people self-harm.
• People who self-harm want to die.
  

I think y'all get the idea. The fact is, there are a lot of reasons people self harm.

• Temporary relief and/or distraction from emotional pain, overwhelming/intense negative feelings, panic, anxiety, etc.

• Punishment. For what? Depends on the person. I used to have a friend who cut himself every time he smoked a cigarette after he had said he was quitting. Whenever he slipped up and had one, he cut as a way to punish himself. He's been cigarette free for 3 years now but hasn't cut in 5.

• Expression of thoughts or feelings in which the person cutting doesn't understand or can't verbally express.
  

• Some use it as a coping mechanism for things they can't or won't talk about it.

• Some people do use it for expression of their issues in hopes that it will get some one's attention, possibly to seek out help or support that they may be unable to bring themselves to ask for.

• To feel something instead of just feeling numb.
  

• And sadly, there are some people who do it for the wrong reasons. Such as just to get attention from any and everyone, because they think it's cool, because people they know are doing it, because it's been grossly glamorized, etc.

It's a personal thing and most cases where the person isn't doing it to act out or get attention, there are plenty or reasons that are driving them to physically inflict pain and hurt themselves. It's different for everyone from the reasons they do it to what they get out of it. It's more complex than most people realize and it is a serious problem.

When I used to self-harm, I cut. I usually used a small, sharp kitchen knife but a razor blade would do the trick if I wasn't around a knife or wasn't able to go get one. It took me a while before I realized I could just buy a small pocket knife and hide that so I wouldn't have to use razorblades and wouldn't have to worry about sneaking to the kitchen for a knife and then cleaning and sterilizing it once I was done with it. I mostly cut on my thighs so no one would see them and sometimes on my stomach and upper arms. Anywhere I could keep hidden in regular clothes worked best for me when I was cutting because I didn't want anyone to see what I was doing. I wanted what I got out of it without having anyone know because I knew it wasn't healthy and wasn't good for me to be doing. I knew if people saw the cuts and the scars they would question how it happened because it's not fun, cute, silly, romantic, sweet, pretty or anything other than ugly, dangerous and harmful. I also knew if I cut where people could see, I'd end up making excuses for how I got the mark on my skin and it wouldn't take long for someone to realize I wasn't having as many mishaps as I was saying. So, I kept it all hidden the best that I could. My ex-boyfriend Luke saw them but he also cut and had issues with depression so he didn't judge me or freak out about them.

From Studies have suggested that when people who self-injure get emotionally overwhelmed, an act of self-harm brings their levels of psychological and physiological tension back to a bearable baseline level almost immediately. In other words, they feel a strong uncomfortable emotion, don't know how to handle it (indeed, often do not have a name for it), and know that hurting themselves will reduce the emotional discomfort extremely quickly. They may still feel bad afterward but they don't have that panicky jittery trapped feeling.

That's pretty accurate. It can be calming, albeit a horrible way of getting yourself calm but it's true. It's a very fast fix. The fix isn't a real fix, it's similar to someone who uses drugs or alcohol to cope actually. As someone who used to use drugs as well as cutting to help cope with depression, anxiety, etc; I understand perfectly well that you're not really fixing anything. You're just making it feel better for the moment and then it sucks again later. Then you do your quick temporary fix that feels so good in that moment and for a little while. Then you're back to it not being better again so you keep going back for more. It's a vicious cycle.

It's also just easier to focus on and deal with physical pain than it is to deal with emotional pain or trauma sometimes. It's like an escape in a way. You can live in that moment in the pain and that's all you feel. That's the same as using it as a distraction, though. It doesn't last.

I self-harmed for several reasons. Sometimes it was because I just felt numb and wanted to feel something. Sometimes I was just so overwhelmed with painful thoughts and negative emotion that I sought out relief through self-harm. Sometimes it was about control. Because I hurt so much and was in such a bad place and I didn't know what to do or how to fix it. I couldn't control how I felt and couldn't find a solution. I could control the cutting though and that gave me a calming effect and the illusion that I still had some control over something, that I wasn't just completely out of control in every aspect of my life.

I finally decided one day that I was sick of being miserable. I was sick of being a mess. I was sick of hurting myself. I was sick of self-medicating with drugs. I was just sick of the person I had let myself become by not dealing with things and by letting my problems and issues own me. I can't remember for the life of me what it was that made me snap and say, "that's it, I've had enough." I stopped using drugs and stopped cutting. I struggled with both but I was determined I was going to become a better person and be happy.

When I was in an armed robbery the first time I lived in Northern CA, that set my progress back a little bit. I was having nightmares a lot after that happened. Having a gun held to the back of your head and another aimed at the side of your head with a group of guys in masks screaming at you and threatening your life will do that to a person. I was afraid to seek help for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder after that, so I didn't. I started having panic attacks because every little thing freaked me out the first few weeks. The nightmares were horrible and caused me more panic and anxiety. I was angry at myself for handing it so poorly. I thought I should have been stronger than that, should have not let it get to me as badly as it did. I started cutting again for a while after that because it was the only thing I knew to do to help relieve some of the overwhelming feelings and tension I was facing. I stopped cutting again after a few months. I went through this downward spiral again after that where I drank way too much, started taking pain killers when I didn't need them and then I'd cut once in a while when everything got to be too much.

I was 23 the last time I cut. I'll be 27 this June. Shane was amazingly helpful as I went through this. We've been together almost 6 years now and knew each other for a year before we started dating. I was open with him about it and if he saw a scar or mark on me, I'd be honest and say that I'd cut. He never yelled or got angry, he'd just be upset. And that hurt more than if he had just been angry and yelled. I'd want to cut and then end up sitting in the floor in tears, crying because I didn't know what else to do because everything hurt so much but I didn't want to cut. I got to a point where I'd just talk to Shane whenever I wanted to cut. I've always had a problem being able to talk to people about my emotions and feelings. I hate feeling vulnerable so I keep a lot of stuff inside. Sometimes it didn't help but most of the time, it did. He understood. He'd also dealt with depression and some other issues before I'd met him. He wasn't judgmental, he didn't try to force me into getting help, he didn't yell, he didn't talk down to me, he just listened and together, we worked through it. Then I started talking about it after a while, with other people who had some similar issues and gone through similar things I had gone through. It sounds cheesy but all that soul searching ended up being very healing.

I used to think going for 3 or 4 days without self-harm was a good thing. When I'd go for weeks at a time before crashing again, I'd lie to myself and say I had it under control more and that it wasn't as big of an issue anymore. Which wasn't true. It doesn't matter if you do it every day, once a week or just a few times a month.

I haven't cut in almost 4 years now and I don't even have the urges to do so anymore. Back when I was going through this, I felt desperate at times, like there would never be a time where I wouldn't need to cut to feel better.

I know it's hard to get help but please, don't be afraid to. The hardest part is admitting you have a problem and then having the courage to ask for help in getting through it. There are people out there that can help, that won't judge you and won't treat you like an attention starved person without any real problems. You can even seek help online. There are chat rooms, message boards and online support groups to help. There are some great resources out there. Reaching out for help is a scary thing but just know that you can get help if you want to from somewhere.

Some links for self-harm information, support, etc: Scar Tissue.net, TheSite, Recover Your Life, Facts about Self-Injury, Help Guide: Cutting and Self-Harm, S.A.F.E. Alternatives, ReachOut.com: Self Harm.

If you think someone in your life is self-harming, please, talk to them. It doesn't hurt to ask if you think you have even the slightest inclination to be worried about someone in your life. You never know what the people in your life might be silently going through and an awkward question might mean more than you could ever realize.