The reason? No reason other than depression. There was a trigger, but that wasn't the reason. Just lots of tiny little bricks being built up and encircling me. But I think that I'm out now. For now. I don't self-harm in the sense that some other people do it. I actually and honestly hate most self-harmers. It's so fucking obvious and self-absorbed. They do it in the most obvious place so that people will pity them. I've seen some of them do that. Deliberately, and sometimes even in front of other people. It's disgusting. No, some of them annoy me. It's generally a teenager, 'I'm so angsty' thing. And I'm sick to the teeth of it.
But I will admit, that I harm myself during episodes. Depressed episodes, manic episodes, angry episodes, I'll subconsciously do it. It started as a kid when I would bang my head against the wall in a kind of temper tantrum thing. Now I'll pull my hair, punch myself, scratch myself, cut myself, even throw myself into things. It's a bit like a drunk tazmanian devil off of Looney Tunes. I don't even realise consciously that I'm doing it at the time. Does that make sense? I know that I'm doing it at the time, but I don't know that I know that I'm doing it. You get me? It's like I'm trapped in a glass box and I can't get out - but another part of me goes on living that I have absolutely no control over, but it has willpower and it thinks crazy things. Depressed episodes make me harm myself because I deserve to be punished. Angry episodes make me harm myself because someone needs to be punished and it might as well be me. Manic episodes is a shout out that nothing can harm me, that I can withstand any pain and there is nothing that anyone can do about it. Sticks and stones may break my bones and all of that.
So, I went to work today. Despite everything. My family were out and I knew that I would do something stupid if I was home alone. So I went in and managed to burst into tears every five seconds. Wonderful. But do you know what was really great about it? How understanding everyone was. I didn't even need to go round going, 'oh, please excuse me, I have depression blah blah blah blah.' The supervisor managers knew, but the rest of the staff didn't and yet they were all so nice to me. They weren't judgemental, they didn't role their eyes. It was quite beautiful actually. They even found a job for me to do. Nothing hard. Just simple (I say simple, but it took me fucking ages and did actually prove to be quite difficult at times), and it got me out of the way of people (who I didn't really want to see. Not going to lie, not sure whether I would have punched an angry customer or just burst into tears), and honestly gave me a sense of purpose of something to do today. I really got into it because I threw myself into it and didn't leave work until well after my shift had ended because I had gotten so into it.
But I was still feeling depressed. I still do now, but still. I still thought about how easy and peaceful dying would be. And then I went to tuck up Katie. As per usual, I picked her up and put her on my lap and rocked her as if she were a baby again. And then she snuggled into me. She snuggled into me, and her little hand wrapped its way around a fold of my work shirt like she really honestly needed me. She smiled in her sleep like she knew that I was there. That I was home. When I laid her back down in the bed after about ten minutes of a glorious cuddle in which I felt so much better already, she asked me in a sleepydrowsiness to sing to her. So I did. And she fell asleep in my arms. Bloody hell that felt great. She needs me, guys. She needs me to be there for her. And be there for her I shall. Always.
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