Sunday, 2 May 2010

No one knows the full story.

Hello lovelies.

I'm having a bit of an...I don't want to say epiphany but that's all I can describe it as. I've been thinking a lot lately about why and how I fell into this world, the world of ED. There hasn't been a direct trigger that has thrown me face first into this state of mind. I've had potential triggers, if that makes sense. I've had a fair few moments of trauma in my life which, should they had been directly followed by an ED I would understand but...they haven't. I did start cutting as a direct result of something. That I understand. But this? Seemingly out of the blue? That I don't.
I stopped cutting about 2 years ago. It was so hard. It was like voluntarily shutting out a friend who knows exactly what to say to make you feel better, who has all the right words, all the right emotions, all the right blades. I'm wondering if I've subconsciously switched coping mechanisms. I used to cut when things went wrong, even little things, even nothing sometimes. I just found it comforting, like snuggling up under a blanket where nothing could hurt me. Nothing could hurt me except me, and I did just that.
Is it possible that after almost a year of mental stability that I've fallen back? Is it possible that, without any direct trigger, I need my security blanket again? I can't use the old security blanket though, people recognize that one from when I curled up under it before. If I dug it out of the attic they'd know exactly what I was doing. I needed a new blanket that no one would suspect, and I got one. A brand-spanking new security blanket under which no one knows what I am doing. They just see a blanket, it's like my own secret world. My new friend.
Did you ever sit up in bed and pull the duvet over your head and read or write or just be? No one knew what you were doing under there except you. Little do they know we're not reading or writing anymore, we're striving for something much more evident, something much more beautiful.
We're all just writing under our duvets, we're all huddled under our security blankets.
Why were we chosen? Why do we have to cope in such destructive ways? Why can't we just call up our friends and cry while eating ice cream? Why do we hide our sadness? Why can't we just talk about it? To someone, anyone...

My problem now is, I'm feeling colder. I think I might need another blanket. I'm telling you, you're the only one who understands, you know that? It's difficult being so happy go lucky all the time. It's hard, it's all so hard. I don't want to break. Don't let me get the old blanket down, please don't.

I can't cope on my own. I can't.
I'm sorry for all this..

Rydw i'n caru ti, Kiki xx


  1. "I'm feeling colder. I think I might need another blanket"

    This is so eloquent, because it's so true, but I would have never been able to articulate as accurately.

    Hang in there, because it sounds like you know "just once" is never enough.

  2. So honestly written and in ways I've always wanted to express but continue to fail at. And how ironic that our "safety" blanket isn't very safe at all.

    Violet is right, hang in there, cause even if you just look in the attic for that old blanket it won't be enough. Cutting's a place I hate and love, wouldn't want you to go back there.


  3. wonderfully written...i can relate a lot. but don't get the old blanket back! it's better without it. i used to cut myself 4 years ago an i'm really proud i never fell back into the habit.

    we will all try to give each other warmth, won't we?


  4. This sounds so much like me - I used to cut 4 years ago and stopped I've been tempted many times but never went back because as you say everyone knows what that blanket looks like. You have explained this in a way I never could - But have always wanted to if that makes sense. Don't go back to the old blanket.
    Rachel x

  5. Horribly true. This was beautifully written. Thank you for sharing this.

  6. Hey, I noticed you liked art! I hope you can like my blog, come check it out! I add a famous new art piece daily.