My #BraveChat on Mental Health and Self-Injury
The topic of self-injury in my mental health journey has always been a difficult one to talk about. I remember discussing one of my relapses with my therapist. I struggled so hard to get the words out that I’d hurt myself. I felt an onslaught of emotions about telling someone I trusted to not judge me. I felt disappointed, sad, and almost ashamed. When I finally managed to tell my therapist that I’d hurt myself, I remember looking up at her and seeing her lean forward and say, “it’s okay.”
“It’s okay.”
There’s always been that stigma of self-injury that’s been around since I can remember, that if you hurt yourself it’s because you were solely seeking attention. In high school, I remember whispers echoing the halls with rumors about how someone was seen with self-harm marks. Some of those quiet comments were not kind and filled with judgement. “it’s just so people will pay attention to her.” “She’s obviously just being ‘edgy’ and not serious.” “If she was really wanting to hurt herself, wouldn’t it have been worse?” There was little to no compassion in those remarks but those words dredged themselves up the first time I hurt myself.
I didn’t want any attention with it. I remember panicking a bit trying to cover up what I’d done. I hid everything from my friends and family and kept things to myself. At the time, I felt it was the one way to control something in my life when everything else seemed to be crashing and burning around me. The emptiness and frustration I felt would well up inside me until I felt like I had no other outlet to choose from and I’d turn to self-harm. I think it made me feel awake and reminded me that I was in fact alive. Then the shame and fear of ridicule and judgement would wash over me and I’d hide my wounds and carry on. I thought that I’d been giving myself a solution when I’d really just been continuing the phase of not facing my fears or problems.
The first time I got caught, I began to understand the weight of my actions. My roommate and I were casually talking about some dinner plans while I was washing the dishes. I had to push my sleeves up a little while I was washing dishes and my roommate spotted my recent marks. She stopped talking and just grabbed me and held me and started crying and I remember standing in the kitchen with wet soapy hands, comforting her as she continuously told me she was here for me. I felt terrified that someone knew and I felt like I was about to come apart. But I also felt loved and cared for. I never wanted attention but in that moment, I realized how important having support was.
I wish I could say that things got easier after that. Mental health progress is never a straight climb and I came to terms with that. I opened up more to close friends I trusted and felt supported, I researched alternative outlets for when I felt overwhelmed, and I slowly started to face myself about my feelings and emotional internalization. I would have moments where I’d relapse and I would constantly struggle with feeling worse with myself afterwards. “How could you have done this?” “You were doing so well, what’s wrong with you?” “I’m never going to be okay.” I think the hardest struggle that I continue to face is being kind and patient with myself. I learned that it’s important to forgive yourself and understand that a relapse is not the end of the world. Recovery is not a straight and set path.
Finding my therapist and building a relationship was difficult but the best thing I’d ever done for my mental health. I wish I could say therapy is kind and always comforting but sometimes you need that voice of reason and truth to be there for you. Therapy was harder some days than others. I remember having a really good month but then coming back to my therapist telling her one day just broke me down. When I told her about my relapse after a particularly terrible day, she listened and reminded me to forgive myself while understanding why it happened and why I made that choice. I’ll admit that the hardest thing with therapy was being painfully honest with myself.
I wanted to share my story about self-harm because the road to recovery is a difficult and frustrating journey. There are really good days and really bad days. And on the really bad days you have to remember that you are strong and that you are brave. Taking the first few steps takes so much courage. You are alive and incredible for surviving everything you’ve been through. Celebrate yourself. Forgive yourself. Be kind to yourself. Love yourself. It’s not an easy journey but you are not alone.
**I would like to include a link to To Write Love On Her Arms’ resources that provide information on low-cost counseling, advice, and other mental health services all listed here: twloha.com/find-help .