I am so thrilled to share the second in my ‘Your Stories’ series.
**CONTENT WARNING**
Today we explore PTSD and Self Harm with Iy.
I
have a tattoo on my right thigh. I had it done about 4 years ago; the first
time I believed that self harm might be over for me. It’s a small poem that I
wanted to have with me permanently. Six lines of simple typewriter script that
embody an important part of my story. A tattoo seemed the perfect way to mark
the progress I had made with my mental health. It was important to me to acknowledge that yes I have struggled and I have used my flesh to illustrate
those troubles, but they don’t define me. I have hope.
If I
were writing this for one of the mainstream mental health organisations I
suspect this is where this piece would be cut. It would be a neat little story
of redemption; unfortunately mental illness isn’t that tidy. The above is all
true. I have made strides into a new life. I did want to commemorate my
evolution, but I was also making a declaration of defiance. The fight isn’t
over, you see. I am fairly certain now that it never will be. The urge to hurt
myself has never completely left me.
were writing this for one of the mainstream mental health organisations I
suspect this is where this piece would be cut. It would be a neat little story
of redemption; unfortunately mental illness isn’t that tidy. The above is all
true. I have made strides into a new life. I did want to commemorate my
evolution, but I was also making a declaration of defiance. The fight isn’t
over, you see. I am fairly certain now that it never will be. The urge to hurt
myself has never completely left me.
There
have been relapses since then. Big & small. I have been doing well for what
I consider a long time now. I am working towards the life I’ve always wanted.
Trying new things, stretching myself. I’m sharing my life with someone in ways
that I had long given up on. I haven’t cut for quite some time. I have begun to
feel that I am wrestling back some control.
have been relapses since then. Big & small. I have been doing well for what
I consider a long time now. I am working towards the life I’ve always wanted.
Trying new things, stretching myself. I’m sharing my life with someone in ways
that I had long given up on. I haven’t cut for quite some time. I have begun to
feel that I am wrestling back some control.
It’s
never that simple though, is it?
never that simple though, is it?
PTSD
is a persistent foe. You can make progress & start to think maybe, just
maybe you can actually defeat this bastard, but it knows you think that.
is a persistent foe. You can make progress & start to think maybe, just
maybe you can actually defeat this bastard, but it knows you think that.
It’s
waiting for you to relax your hyper vigilance. The moment you begin to let go
of the breath you’ve been holding for 18 years it will suck it in & grow.
waiting for you to relax your hyper vigilance. The moment you begin to let go
of the breath you’ve been holding for 18 years it will suck it in & grow.
Folks
in your life see you gaining strength & think you’re better. There is no ‘better’.
There is managing ,
in your life see you gaining strength & think you’re better. There is no ‘better’.
There is managing ,
coping,
trying
to live,
to live,
daring
to live?
to live?
The
good days can start to stack up. You can feel a safe distance from the horror,
but you can never be sure.
good days can start to stack up. You can feel a safe distance from the horror,
but you can never be sure.
You
can never be certain that a flashback won’t stun you like lightening.
can never be certain that a flashback won’t stun you like lightening.
And
stuck in that hot, white memory you could loosen your grip on the here &
now.
stuck in that hot, white memory you could loosen your grip on the here &
now.
The
relative calm & safety could be shattered. Perhaps only for that instant.
You could be lucky, those smells & fears could melt away. Current achievements
or delights may well wash over you. It’s possible. That happens.
relative calm & safety could be shattered. Perhaps only for that instant.
You could be lucky, those smells & fears could melt away. Current achievements
or delights may well wash over you. It’s possible. That happens.
You’ll
make plans & take steps. But you’ll always be looking over your shoulder.
The knowledge of the cruelty of your own mind will keep you rigid.
make plans & take steps. But you’ll always be looking over your shoulder.
The knowledge of the cruelty of your own mind will keep you rigid.
Because
lightening does strike twice & thrice & ever & on.
lightening does strike twice & thrice & ever & on.
With
every thump of your heart you know you’re only one more squeeze from disaster.
Where little sleep becomes none. The crazy creeps out from behind all those
positive walls, it brings terror & tsunamis of grief.
every thump of your heart you know you’re only one more squeeze from disaster.
Where little sleep becomes none. The crazy creeps out from behind all those
positive walls, it brings terror & tsunamis of grief.
And
the pills don’t work
the pills don’t work
Or Dr’s
Or
the life jacket you had to make with your bare hands.
the life jacket you had to make with your bare hands.
There
is only one way to row to shore & it’s brutal. It’s hot blood dripping from
your fingers; slippy yellow fat & an uncontrollable urge to cut a little
deeper.
is only one way to row to shore & it’s brutal. It’s hot blood dripping from
your fingers; slippy yellow fat & an uncontrollable urge to cut a little
deeper.
Bleed
a little more
a little more
Wrapping
up the unthinkable pain in the easy hurt of butchering yourself.
up the unthinkable pain in the easy hurt of butchering yourself.
This
illness is being awake in the night & writing so you won’t do.
It’s
ignoring the destructive comfort because you so desperately want this new, real
life.
illness is being awake in the night & writing so you won’t do.
It’s
ignoring the destructive comfort because you so desperately want this new, real
life.
And,
yes, all those yous should be I’s.
yes, all those yous should be I’s.
It’s
my past, my pain, my unpredictable battle.
my past, my pain, my unpredictable battle.
I
never know when a bad day might become the worst day. I do know that I’m still
fighting. It’s been a long road to get here, within hoping distance. I still
have to make a decision everyday that I will not reach for that scalpel. I
still have to convince myself that I deserve a happy ending. I want you to
believe it too. Mental illness is insidious & it is vicious. You may never
get ‘better’, but you can live.
never know when a bad day might become the worst day. I do know that I’m still
fighting. It’s been a long road to get here, within hoping distance. I still
have to make a decision everyday that I will not reach for that scalpel. I
still have to convince myself that I deserve a happy ending. I want you to
believe it too. Mental illness is insidious & it is vicious. You may never
get ‘better’, but you can live.
With
a combination of medication, therapy, love, luck & unrelenting hard fucking
work; I am living. This is the recovery story I think needs to be told. The
harder, messier story.
That tattoo wasn’t a mistake. I still believe in those words.
a combination of medication, therapy, love, luck & unrelenting hard fucking
work; I am living. This is the recovery story I think needs to be told. The
harder, messier story.
That tattoo wasn’t a mistake. I still believe in those words.
You can follow Iy’s blog at somethinginthewayshemoves.me
Posted in Becky Barnes Blog, Lifestyle
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