Sometimes I wonder if my heart is like a black hole--it's so dense that there's no room for light, but that doesn't mean it can't still suck me in.
It__ all about self-discipline. Like, self-obsession is connected completely with self-loathing, and it__ the same with, if you__e got a weight problem. It__ all about_ finding some worth in yourself, knowing that you__e got the discipline to do it, and knowing that other people maybe can__ do it. And it__ also, I think, really connected to the fact that you almost feel, like, silent, you have no voice, you__e mute, there__ just no, you__e got no option. Even if you could express yourself nobody would listen anyway. Things that go on inside you, there__ no other way to get rid of them.
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It__ all about self-discipline. Like, self-obsession is connected completely with self-loathing, and it__ the same with, if you__e got a weight problem. It__ all about_ finding some worth in yourself, knowing that you__e got the discipline to do it, and knowing that other people maybe can__ do it. And it__ also, I think, really connected to the fact that you almost feel, like, silent, you have no voice, you__e mute, there__ just no, you__e got no option. Even if you could express yourself nobody would listen anyway. Things that go on inside you, there__ no other way to get rid of them.
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Why do I take a blade and slash my arms? Why do I drink myself into a stupor? Why do I swallow bottles of pills and end up in A&E having my stomach pumped? Am I seeking attention? Showing off? The pain of the cuts releases the mental pain of the memories, but the pain of healing lasts weeks. After every self-harming or overdosing incident I run the risk of being sectioned and returned to a psychiatric institution, a harrowing prospect I would not recommend to anyone.So, why do I do it? I don't. If I had power over the alters, I'd stop them. I don't have that power. When they are out, they're out. I experience blank spells and lose time, consciousness, dignity. If I, Alice Jamieson, wanted attention, I would have completed my PhD and started to climb the academic career ladder. Flaunting the label 'doctor' is more attention-grabbing that lying drained of hope in hospital with steri-strips up your arms and the vile taste of liquid charcoal absorbing the chemicals in your stomach. In most things we do, we anticipate some reward or payment. We study for status and to get better jobs; we work for money; our children are little mirrors of our social standing; the charity donation and trip to Oxfam make us feel good. Every kindness carries the potential gift of a responding kindness: you reap what you sow. There is no advantage in my harming myself; no reason for me to invent delusional memories of incest and ritual abuse. There is nothing to be gained in an A&E department.
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