It calls to me, I can't resist it, I know I shouldn't, but I just can't help it, it never ends, it never goes away. I war with myself the weakness bringing me back to this point again and again. I try and walk away, I try to resist, knowing I'm failing, that I am letting it win. The voices in my head, they war with each other clamouring for attention. The sane voice of reason and positivity is superseded by the greedy voice of pain and despair.
I take hold of the handle, the smooth dark wood, cool, yet so very comforting, it fits my palm perfectly, as if made for it, my fingers closing around it. I feel comforted just holding it, safe almost. The urge recedes a bit now I have it in my hand, the desperate need slightly lessened, instead I am filled with eager anticipation, a sense of the impending "something" that is about to happen, almost a thrill. The voices quiten too, they too can sense that this is a pivotal moment, that something is going to occur. Time stands still, there is no-one else here, I am alone.
The realisation of this wakens the voice of pain and misery inside me and it clamours for my attention, reminding me of all my failures, putting them all on repeat, through a kaleidoscope of my mind so they blur into one with one constant message. My hand grips more tightly around the hard wood I am holding. I look down and see it and I know what I must do, what I must always do to release this crazy pain that is going on inside of me.
I move my hand to my arm, it is bare and I can see the veins snaking their way up from my wrist to my elbow, the smooth skin waiting, waiting for me to release this torment that I am in. I slowly move the tip of the blade towards the soft flesh, the glint of the blade reflecting in my eyes. The initial contact makes me inhale sharply, the sharp point presses against my wrist and I close my eyes savouring what is to come, knowing it will help me. I press harder the tip sinks into my skin and the paleness changes to pink as blood wells up from within and then I move the knife, sliding it slowly from my wrist to my elbow.
The first cut is always the sweetest, the burn of the blade as it slices through flesh, a sigh escapes me, just like my blood, and I watch fascinated, but the relief is short lived, once is never enough and I have so much to rid myself of. I move the blade to my wrist again and repeat again and again, my mind clamouring. I just want peace, each cut brings a moment of solace as I watch my arm turn crimson but the silence wont come, the peace I crave won't appear and I get more angry, jabbing and stabbing at my arm rather than slicing, all the anger, frustration, hurt is building inside of me. But what I am doing is not enough, it will never be enough, I need to do more, free myself more and the thought suddenly appears in my mind. That voice quickly grabs onto it "Oh yes! It is a good idea" it says, "An excellent idea, it will help solve everything, you will no longer need to feel like this, you will be free, you will be at peace, no-one can hurt you any longer, you will feel no pain, go on do it, do it, do it, DO IT!"
The chant rattles around my head and I can think of nothing else, and I start to agree with the voice, tears streaming down my face. I am so tired of fighting, so tired of being strong, so tired of fighting these inner demonds that haunt me. I want it to end. I want to end. I know deep down it is wrong, the coward's way, the small voice of reason is desperately trying to shout for me to stop, to think, to reason, but I am deaf in a haze of pain and despair. I can see no other option.
I think about everything that has occured in my life to bring me to this point and the voice reminds me of all the wrongs I have done, the wrong choices I have made, the failure that I am, and the misery and despair overwhelms me. I was once told by a sibling who had no love for me where to strike for the best fatal blows and his words ring out loud in my mind. I slowly lift the blade to my neck, one quick sharp stab to the side of the throat, twist and it'll all be over, this misery can end....
"Mum" The shout stops my hand and snaps me out of the mental fog I had withdrawn into. Shit!!! They can't see me like this, I quickly scramble to find tissues to clean my bloodied arm and table and wipe my eyes. I hide the knife under my pillow and put on my dressing gown so they can't see what I have done. They bound into my bedroom, stop and look at me puzzled, then ask, "Can I have a hug? I've not had one from you all day and I've missed you" These words hit home of how near I had come, and I hug them with all my might, my arm screaming at the damage I have caused it, and I realised just how close I had come. I have to protect them from this pain I am in and not be the cause of giving them any, they are innocent and they shouldn't have this weight.
So I lay on the bed with my child in my arms, their sweet presence chasing the misery and despair away, forcing it into the darkness of my mind, their voices quite....
.... for now
Footnote: I know there are many charities out there that can help people who are struggling with mental health. I know we all have our inner demons to contend with and some events can be triggers and others cures. I am blessed to have found someone who is my balm when times get bad, really bad and I have found writing and talking can help me when I am in those dark places.
Please do not judge or criticise me by what is written here, you do not know me or if what I have written here is truth or fiction. Be kind to yourself and learn to love you, the inner you - only then can you love the world around you.
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