Everyone hates me.

I’m crying. I’m crying really hard and really loud because I think everyone hates me.

In fact, I know they must hate me. My family, my housemates, my work colleagues. Everyone.

And why do they hate me? Because there’s something wrong with. I’m wrong. I don’t fit in. I don’t have many friends because people don’t like me. I’m too argumentative, too passionate about my world views. And when I show that side, people want to leave. When I’m not arguing, I’m too quiet. I’m shy and reserved. People don’t like that. I force awkward silences on them. I don’t have anything to say so I keep my mouth shut. I don’t like sharing.

Want to know how my holiday was?

‘Good. Fine. Only a few showers. Mostly dry. Went swimming’.

You’re not getting anything else out of me.

That’s not normal. I’m not normal. What’s wrong with me?

On Saturday night I sat up for hours crying. A never-ending stream of thoughts filled my head. Examples of social rejection, fights with siblings, throwaway comments made years ago all came back to me as evidence that I am hated. After everything I've done, I hate to be. I jumped from conclusion to conclusion. I was trapped. I couldn’t get out of my mind, I couldn’t make it stop. Everything that I was ever self-conscious of, any past event that ever could make me feel self-conscious flooded my brain.

But then it occurred to me.

Hurt yourself to make the thoughts stop. You know it works. You’ve done it before.

Pathetic, I thought. Seriously mental illness? You think you can trick me that easily? I am not going to do that.

I cried until I was numb. I cried until half of me felt already dead, and the other half wanted to die.

"You're getting yourself worked up over nothing".

 But it doesn't feel like nothing. It feels real.

I don’t know what Saturday night was. A breakdown? An episode of depression? A relapse?

All I know is that it will take a while to shake off and fully get over. I still feel emotionally and physically drained. I still feel like a lesser, emptier me. And I still feel like people don’t like me. However, I’m being more realistic about it. Everyone doesn’t hate me, because not everyone in the world has met me. But, everyone may possible hate me if they ever do meet me. I’m challenging these destructive thoughts one step at a time. 

I still feel an overwhelming sense of sadness. I still feel too preoccupied with the stream of negative thoughts only I can hear to really pay heed to anything going on around me. 

I stepped out in front of a car this morning. Not intentionally. I was just so withdrawn and so consumed by my mind that I didn't think to look. I was lucky I didn't get hurt. 

This was the worst low I can remember in the past two years. But it differs from how I used to feel in a time before medication and support. It differs because despite what my mind told me, I didn't want to die. I didn't want to hurt myself to make the feelings stop. Hell, it was hard ignoring those thoughts, convincing myself not to act on them. But I did it. 

Despite Saturday night, I'm still winning the battle against my mental illness. 

An Honest Look at Self-Harm

If you mention self-harm to people, it's quite probable you'll get the following response:

- attention-seeking

- not serious

- not a real cry for help

- childish

- emo

- only happens in teenagers

**Trigger warning - this post mentions self-harm**

Despite the progress in eradicating stigma around mental illness, albeit slowly, the topic of self-harm hasn't achieved the same openness when it comes to discussion.
Self-harm just isn't taken seriously. There is a stigma attached to committing such a violent act against yourself. It's seen as shameful. And so it is often ignored, even if it is a common pre-indicator of suicide.

Oxford Dictionaries

Self -harm is a coping strategy. It provides short-term release. When it presents as a repetitive action or a routine it becomes especially worrying. It can be a way of gaining a sense of control. More often than not, it is done in secret. It can be easily concealed. And not broadcast to seek attention.
It takes many forms and it can manifest itself as anything from cutting, punching and hitting to binge-drinking and drug use.

I would know. I've been through it.
And because it's such a huge part of my past, I wanted to tell my story as part of my Embracing Your Past month. While I was telling the world in national newspapers and on TV about my mental health, I would not speak about suicide or self-harm. Even when I started my blog, both topics felt off the table for me. I thought it would be too difficult a story to tell - both for me and anyone hearing it. It is difficult to talk about something that can be triggering. It's a side of my past that I have tried to hide away.

There are many reasons why people self-harm. For me, it became a way of  externally displaying my internal pain.

Self-harm stops the internal pain momentarily. It's replaced by the physical pain, allowing you to focus on the here and now. I found it could finally pause those thoughts that consumed me for months. But the internal pain and the thoughts return. And so you self-harm again, and again, and again. It's a vicious cycle.

I was immediately struck by Lucy's story in the Guardian on her self-harm. She summarised perfectly why self-harm is so common in people with mental health difficulties.

“When you keep all your problems in, it feels like you’re screaming inside,” Lucy says. “But when you cut or burn yourself, the pain is more physical. You feel like you’re releasing that scream.”

I self-harmed over a period of years. And just as these occurred in a many forms, they were also triggered by a multitude of reasons.

At one period in my life - it was because I wanted someone to notice the scars and to ask if I was okay. It was a cry for help.
At another - it was because I thought I was worthless and I deserved it.
At another - it was because I liked the pain.
At another - it was to stop feeling and thinking.
At another - I just wanted to feel something.
And another - it was because I wanted to die.

Self-harm is as much a part of my mental health story as my insomnia or my weight loss. Hiding it away doesn't mean it didn't happen - it means that I was not ready to accept it as part of my story. Nor was I ready to move on.

I still find it difficult to speak about self-harm. I am ashamed that I deliberately and intentionally hurt myself. Repetitively. I wish I had known my self-worth. I wish I had been strong enough to resist the urge. I wish I didn't have scars. As I wrote on Monday, my mortality has been tried and tested.

But I don't want to continue to live in shame for my actions. I don't want self-harm to be a 'no-go areas' for me. It is a part of my story, and it is a part of my story that needs to be told to eradicate the stigma.

If you, or someone you know, needs help you can find support at my Getting Help page.