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Trin-Selibo [2009-11-20 19:51:13 +0000 UTC]

It's really hard for people to understand depression and cutting.

They have can't comprehend the sobriety of someone who takes a knife (or any implement really, let's be honest)and slices or stabs within their skin. This is understandable, because hurting yourself, well . . . hurts. They look down on anyone who cuts, and that only hurts the cutter more and makes them cut more.

It's also for hard for the sight of it. It hurts people to look at a home-made gash, because they either imagine the horror and pain they would feel if it was on their bodies, or a loved one's. I know for myself, looking at too much red blood makes my eyes water.

Few people understand how awful depression is. They think that the person should just get over themselves and be happy, 'why are you so morose? Life is good.' But they don't understand the internal battle that a depressed person goes through;everything is an argument, and one between fighting or letting go and surrendering. It is such a hard battle that is fought with yourself, because you yourself cannot understand why you can't just go to a movie or listen to a song and enjoy yourself.

Everything becomes a weapon, like a knife, but it's internal, and it brings you that much closer to considering death. Thoughts are the enemy, thoughts are suicidal entreaties. So much time is spent analysing every event and whether you had the 'right' to act the way you did - you know, that one stupid occasion when you let your guard down and reacted badly, or you said something before you could shove it bacj inside again. Having depression is like living out of your head: there's you (or only what you can assume to be 'you', the 'real' you), there's the depressed you, and there's the rare amount of people that manage to get through to you; that you actually had a conversation with, without rewinding the conversation to monitor yourself).

I'm only writing about this, and the importance of giving up cutting, and getting help for depression, because I have some experience with these. Not so much the cutting: the fantasy was always sweeter than the real thing, but the depression.

My room mates will talk nastily about people who they consider annoying, pathetic, or feeling down for no reason. I wonder what they would say if they knew how severely depressed I am? But they don't know: they think I'm a cold, heartless bitch. Enough said.

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