As most know, I self-harm(ed). I cut my skin. Mostly in times when I am completely overwhelmed with life and my skin becomes too tight. As an adult, it doesn’t happen often anymore. I have my coping mechanisms. But as attentive readers, you also know that they don’t always work.
This morning I was busy in the kitchen, preparing tomorrow’s dessert. I was chopping and cutting and then it happened, I cut my finger. It hurt like a bitch (language Cathy!!) and I cursed like a sailor. It bled down my arm and all… You can paint the picture (red should be a dominant colour here…).
I did everything one does with a cut finger. (Including putting a band aid on it.) And while I continued my work, the band aid got soaked and the finger throbbed, I wondered:
As someone who self-harm(ed), why does cutting your finger hurt much more than putting a blade against your skin? It was just a fleeting questing in my mind.
But it came back when I sat down to take a coffee break. And of course, I am an intelligent woman (yes, I am), of course, I know the answer. It’s about hormones, anticipation, and all that.
Okay… So while I am writing this, I realise that I forgot what I initially wanted to say with this post. And maybe it is just one of those “nothingness” posts that often leave my fingers.
For those interested, I am still more or less in a good mood. I still feel relieved about the change of jobs. But I also did something stupid and potentially harming for my best friend. I don’t know. I tried being a friend, but it could be that I made it all worse. And that, my dear readers, is why I don’t make friends. Also, my trust issues and abandonment issues make it hard too…
This is going the wrong way… I will not beat myself up today about things that happened yesterday.
Enjoy this Saturday…