I put the trigger warning in the title, but if you clicked on this, I will go ahead and tell you again: If you are triggered by stories of self-harm, please stop reading. Take care of your mental health and read another story.
Whenever I was in high school, I dealt with long bouts of depression, which led me to developing an addiction to self-harm. When I was depressed, I wouldn’t always feel sad. I wouldn’t really feel anything. Feeling nothing bothered me– it bothered me a lot. So, in order to feel something, anything at all, I would use clean razor blades and cut my shoulders so no one could see. It took me an extremely long time to come to terms with the fact that feeling nothing was not a normal thing, and slicing my skin open to relieve me of that nothingness was even less normal. I did the most terrifying thing I could ever think of doing–I told my mom. She was so supportive and understanding, she set me up with a very nice therapist, and over time I managed to find the strength to not hurt myself any time I felt nothing.
It has since been almost four years since I cut myself.
Last night, for the first time in a while, I felt that nothingness.
A song was playing on my Spotify and I believe that was what triggered me. But I felt the nothing.
I looked over at the razor on the side of my bathtub, and felt the craving. The insatiable need to feel that relief. Then I heard Ryan laughing in the other room. That genuine laugh that I love so much, it knocked me out of the trance I was in, and I was able to get out of the shower.
Talking to Ryan about it later was hard. I knew he was worried for me, and he knew that I really didn’t want to tell him.
Mental illness is a faceless beast. It can strike at any minute and can keep you down for what seems like an eternity. For me, it was in the shower while I was listening to some music.
If you decided to stick around read my story, I’d love to read yours, so leave it in the comments.