Are we ever really recovered? I have been labeling myself a recovered self-harmer for some time now. I use to self-harm for more than 10 years and have not self-harmed for about 5 years. A therapist would say that I have recovered from my self-destructive urges. However, does anyone actually recover from self-mutilation?
You have not done the act of physical self-harm but the urges never go away. They can still be triggered by vivid descriptions of the act or the images that people post up on their social media sites. To see an image of mutilated fresh can make even the strongest of individuals powerless or uneasy. The sight alone can bring back an enormous amount of memories of self-destruction. You fight against it and win the internal battle.
We are not recovered. We are lifers. We struggle day in and day out to stay away from self-harm. This truly is an addiction. A person that was addicted to alcohol can not say I was an alcoholic. They are forever deemed as an alcoholic even when recovered.
There are so many cases regarding people finding out about cutters. For whatever reason they will see that cut but, I really want to know is it possible that maybe we want people to find out? Somewhere along the cutting spree do we mess up on purpose? Is this our way of asking for help?
I must ask myself did I want to keep my secret forever? Does any of us want to keep that secret or do we secretly wish for someone to see that cut, that one cut that will let us know that help is on the way.
Did I want people to find out about my cutting? Is it possible that I did mess up on purpose and that I wore cuts on certain places to have someone figure out my secret? Was that day that I put myself in the hospital an accident or a semi sub-conscious way of seeking help? Did I secretly want to stop cutting? If yes why after all is revealed was I still cutting myself?
Somewhere along the line I feel that maybe we do mess up on purpose and that we are forced to do something drastic in order to seek help. We are forced to go to the extreme simply because no one noticed how fucked up we are.
In a moment of panic, sadness and pure rage we’re expected to create a masterpiece. We’re expected to do so much. We expect so much from ourselves and expect much more from others. We expect them to do what we can’t, give what we can’t, be what we can’t be… sane.