dark place

So, I promised myself this blog was for my recovery and until I made the first step, this blog was just going to hang out here in cyberspace. I lied. I want to write this in a journal, but, I remember the pain contained inside those worn pages like it was yesterday. I hold those words in my hands, run my fingers over them, and even see the occasional blood-stained page-from when the pain exceeded anything I could begin to comprehend. I don't want these words forever scrawled in ink upon pages I will cry over for years to come. That is something else entirely. How do the words written on those pages bring so many pains back to the surface? I can read those journals, knowing exactly what will be on the next page, yet the knowledge of those words doesn't bring up nearly the emotion that reading them does. Anyways, I digressed... Much of the pain and betrayal of my past might be covered later, the causes will likely not.

I spent a wonderful weekend with a friend, had some drinks, talked casually, had some fun, and even managed to go to church (on a non-christian holiday) for the first time in probably 6 years. In fact, I was even convinced to sing in choir... now, i must have been in a good mood. Granted, it's not a church I feel any desire to return to. Now, a mere 12 hours later, I sit here in tears, not knowing why or even where they're coming from. I feel myself sliding down into an emotional low I haven't seen in months. I had a dream the other night I hadn't had in a while; maybe that was the catalyst that pushed me back to the edge? The dream you ask? you would have to know me, really know me to understand... I can't move, I can't scream, and I can only barely pry my eyes open. It's the feeling of being drugged yet fully aware of what is happening. Maybe I was drugged enough on my sleeping meds? But, I know the events did not occur again, without a doubt, they were not repeated yesterday. In fact, I think I forgot my sleeping meds. that wasn't the cause at all... Perhaps this played a role in taking me where I am now? I don't know. I realized before work that my computer charger was left at my friend's house. This simple mistake resulted in so many tears I had to stop driving. I talked to him, he offered to drive it to me (almost 4 hours round trip), I refused, I offered to make the trip-he said ok, but I know I can't go. Emotionally, I don't think I can make it, emotionally, I'm not sure I can handle the kindness of bringing it to me. I'm not sure I'm in a place to see him-to see anybody...

I feel like a needy child. I want so badly to be held and told it's ok-to be rocked and cared for, to just not be alone. I am not a child, but I still long for that contact, security, and love.

Maybe I should have seen this fall coming. The other day I picked up my blade, for the first time in nearly 6 months and ran it across my thigh. The blood is disturbingly soothing. This weekend I ate a lot, I feel disgusting and I look it too. Maybe this also is taking me down. Tonight, the desire to both purge and to cut threatens to overcome me. It'll calm me enough to sleep, but I know better. Purging is coping that no one can see, when you cut, you offer that shame for the world to see.

I need to go sit in the shower, anything to take my mind of it's incessant obsessions. I am scared of this feeling, I don't want to lose my footing and fall again. Everyone thinks I'm ok, I'm not strong enough to pretend... I'm trying so hard to avoid unhealthy coping mechanisms is the first step in recovery-maybe I've come further than I previously thought. I doubt it, I give in almost every day, in fact, I have today already...