Flashbacks

Hi TeenCentral. I haven’t written in almost a year. I used to write often, since I was 11. My last story was ‘in 2023.

I wanted to write so many times. I tried, I opened the Web and typed it in the box but I could never hit send. It got so bad. I couldn’t write because every time I tried I would break down and relapse.

The last year was so bad. I got sick from an attempt. I started cutting more. My dad got more abusive. I was dying. I really was. Maybe not physically but mentally. And then, I left. I went back to the UK and realised how deprived I was of human contact and how broken my life had made me.

But it’s started to get better. I know that, I can see it. But some nights are so bad I don’t want to live and I hate myself for it because I finally have the beginnings of a life I should want to live.

I’ve been told I have ptsd and a bunch of other disorders. I haven’t been to therapy yet, but that’s being sorted out.

I might have cancer. I’m not sure. But I’m terrified to find out. All these hospital visits feel like the universe punishing me and my anxiety is so bad it’s horrible. No one in my family understands even thought they try to. I’m so scared.

I’ve been clean for 124 days. 4 months. The longest I’ve been clean since I were 11. I feel like if I cut again since I’ve moved ill repeat the cycle and I’ll never be able to stop. So I’ve called helplines every time I feel like cutting but the urges are horrible and some night I can’t breathe. Some days I can’t breathe either.

Two night ago I had to call a helpline. It was 5am and I couldn’t sleep because I was plagued by flashbacks. I wanted so badly to do nothing but cut. I used to cut so could sleep. I wrote in the notes on my phone and I wanted to share it:

I was finally having an okay day when the flashbacks came. They were short but vivid. I cried instantly. I’m scared even though he isn’t here. The words hurt like he’s saying it to me. I see the thing he held in his hands as he raised them. I can’t breathe. But I haven’t been able to breathe for days. I can’t breathe until I’m outside. I’m trapped in the past until the second i step out the front door. I’m bound to the past by the walls of a house. Houses never feel like home. I don’t think they ever have since africa.  It doesnt matter how safe I am, my mind won’t rest. Wont believe it. I know I’m safe but the pain never goes away. But it quiets. I don’t notice it, but it quiets when I’m skating. That moment when I have my headphones on and I block out the world and dance and skate and fly and my soul is crying but it’s the good type of cry because this is all I’ve ever wanted and I’m free and I’m happy and I’m okay and I’m going to be okay forever and it doesnt matter what happened because for a moment it doesnt define me because I can exist happily. I didn’t think that was possible. Then I stop, and I stand with my friends who knows nothing of the conflict in my mind and im happy but the dull throb in my palms returns. So tiny, so immeasurably small, but it’s still there. And when I think on it it multiplies. And I do think on it, because I don’t want it to go. I want nothing more than to be rid of it but I can’t let it go. Still, I smile and laugh and think of how grateful I am that I can be free,because that’s what I am, free. Then i get back into that house. I’m safe there. No one hates me there. No one wants me to change, or calls me the devil. No one blames me. But I’m not safe, not in my mind. Nothing can convince my mind that I am. Because I’ll smile and laugh but the moment before I go to sleep, when I can’t run away from how I really feel, I want to die. Or I don’t, but I can’t breathe. Or the ache is so deep it feels one with my organs. Or the rope of incidents coiled around my lungs is so tight, and I’m breathing, but I’m not, I’m not, and nothing I can do will stop me from suffocating. Or the ache, the itch, the craving for the blade is so intense nothing I can do will rid me of it. I just can’t ruin my 4 month streak. Not yet. Yellow are days without serioud suicidal thoughts, or horrible pain.  Good days. Days where I’m truly happy. Normally I have one or two a month. Last month I had 10. And I hate myself for it. How stupid is that? How evil? I want to be happy but I can’t be happy because if I’m happy all that pain was for nothing. If I stop cutting all those scars are wasted. I ruined myself for nothing. But all I want is to be happy. I want to wake up writhing in pain like I used to. The pain is proof. I’m not crazy.  I’m not making it up. I want the pain to dissappear forever. I want to get better. I need to get worse. I need to die. I just want to live.”

Sorry if it’s a bit of a ramble, I wasn’t thinking I was just writing. I’m 16 now. I don’t know if you’ll even remember me. I’ve grown and changed so much since I first wrote here.

I got grounded for staying out late. I’ve never been able to go out with friends, or break curfew. My grandma assumes i was doing drugs when really i was just chilling in the park. I never thought i would be able to do that. My punishment is being stuck in the house for two weeks, which ends on friday. Anyway, It’s making everything worse. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stay in the house without feeling the way I did all those years I was stuck in TZ & Kenya.

So much is going right. But so much is still wrong. I couldn’t function today. I baked my sister and cousin a mug cake and I could barely hold the spoon because my hands were hurting so bad. I’ve been breathing manually all day. I could go on forever talking about all the things hurting me. Because that’s all I feel right now – hurt.

I don’t know if it’s my soul our my body or my mind or all the psychosomatic pain but everything hurts. I am so tired of hurting.

Is my happiness real if I only feel it when I’m distracted, out of the house? It’s gotten to the point where I have to have a show on or music or I am physically glued to my screen because leaving space for my thoughts is just agony.

I’ve done so well. I know I have. But I still would jump at the chance to die if the universe offered it to me. Not all the time, but most of the time, death is still the better option. My family tell me im unappreciative. I hate myself for feeling like this. I want to cut the feeling out. Carve it away.

I hate myself sometimes And I hate myself for it. I don’t think I know how to be happy. I don’t know who I am without this pain, but the pain is so unbearable I don’t think I can live with it. The only option is to die. I have a life now. All i wanted was to leave that house, and still a part of me still yearns to die. It goes away sometimes but it always comes back. I hate myself for it. I’m so scared that it will always come back.

THINGS TO DO FIRST:

• Welcome back to TeenCentral – the community is always here to support you, no matter how long it’s been since your last story. It’s clear you’ve had so much going on in your world since your last visit here and all of it sounds pretty overwhelming and suffocating. But on the other side of that, your STRENGTH AND COURAGE continues to shine through as it always has. KEEP GOING!!!  – YOU DESERVE the HAPPINESS you are fighting for even if it’s scary.
• Your safety has always been hugely important to us – so we are glad you are familiar with helplines and use them when you need to. In case you need a reminder of some more options, here’s our HELP HOTLINES
• We’re glad you are getting the therapy situation sorted out – hopefully you can get started soon. Hotlines and websites are great but it’s no replacement for live conversations with actual people who know you.

WAYS TO KEEP HELPING YOURSELF:

• We love your notes that you shared. Writing is such a great outlet, and it also helps keep your hands and brain busy in a positive way. We encourage you to keep using it to explore some of the questions you asked above, and to reminder yourself of all the positive progress you’ve made. It can definitely help sort out and put perspective on both the good and bad thoughts/feelings you’ve been bouncing between.
• Great job with your streak! We encourage you to keep building other coping skills and tools you can rely on during the tough times. Aside from writing, what are things you can do that are enjoyable and keep your hands active? Make a list and see if you can start to add some things to your daily routine.
• It’s also important to have safe areas / spaces. It sounds like being outside is a preferred location but it might not always be possible. Are there any other places where you feel comfortable? Or is it even possible to add some happy elements to a current space to make it feel better for you?