Thursday, 7 June 2018


Trigger warning, self harm. 

Since August I have been plunged into a relapse. Anxiety, emetophobia, depression and self-harm all coming to have a go at me. Holding me prisoner. 

I've had relapses before but they only ever last a few days, perhaps a week or two at most. I would always get back on the horse because I knew how to pick myself up. This one is different though because 10 months later, the clouds haven't shifted, the fear still lingers and self-harm is spreading across my body like wildfire. Recovery isn't linear, we all know that yet when does a little bump on that recovery road turn into being full-blown back to where you were years ago, if not worse?

We don't like talking about struggle in the present tense. It's uncomfortable. But do you know what? Living like this is uncomfortable, it's painful, its a tug of war, a child playing with a light switch of emotions in my brain and at some point the fuse will just explode. 

So for a second you can put your discomfort aside, for a second you can listen, no judgment required thanks. I don't need you to look at my body in horror as you lay eyes to what a razor can do. I don't need you to tell me to just "get the f*ck over it" when my body and mind scream in fear as though a gun is at my head when in fact it's just a toy. I don't need you to remind me to get out more when every time I do the only company I hold is my own. I don't need you to tell me to "stop thinking these shit thoughts" as if that is the magic solution. I don't need you to tell me "it's almost over, you are almost home" as though 'here' is the problem, as though home will fix everything when its a vacation from my mind I need. 

I need tranquility in this warzone, and sometimes you know I get that, when the sun warms my skin, when I'm by the sea, when I hear the birds sing or when my blood trickles. I keep trying to tell myself one day it'll be better, but what if there is no better? What if this is all life will be made up from this point in? 

I am full of smiles, hope for the outside world, encouragement to everyone else, reassuring words, a friend when you need it. But behind closed doors, above my neck and behind my eyes there is an entirely different reality that you can't see unless it's written on my body, in shaking hands, shallow breaths, red slashes; a plea for relief, a moment of silence. 

Relapse. It's uncomfortable for you. So I stay quiet, but the wildfire spreads like poison ivy, and I don't have any water or weed killer so it would be great if you did, if you could help me. Please. 


  1. This was written so well. This might be a dumb comment but I hope you're doing okay after the relapse. Recovery isn't a straight line up, there are things along the way that knock you down and sometimes you get knocked further than you were anticipating. Being open and honest about it is not easy, but it is things like this that help reduce the stigma around MI until eventually people might one day understand. I hope bright things are coming your way. Look after yourself x

    Rachel |

  2. Beautifully written. I know it's cheesy to say, but I can sort of get the feeling.

    Sending strength. xx

  3. Wow!! This is beautifully written and bundled with a bow. It is so true to how relapse feels and while my choice is not self-harm, it is addiction of substance, it feels the same...uncomfortable and shame for how it will effect others completely disregarding our own pain that lies deep within seeping from our wounds, begging to be healed. Amazing job. Standing ovation, from one struggling human to another.