For me the other day it wasn't an idea which popped into my head and then I thought it over, it was a 'spur of the moment' thing. I saw an implement, I felt disgustingly bad and so I did it. I did it more than once, in a rather stupid place for the upcoming summer season, and for the moment I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the punishment and the hurting because once it was happening I realised that it had been building up for quite some time.
Maybe I'm kidding myself and saying that it was inevitable because once a cutter, always a cutter. But really it did feel like something I should have done to myself. I'm full of self-loathing most of the time that to actually feel that was almost a relief.
Until afterwards of course. When I was disgusted. When I took Alfie to the park and his cousin and my mother and sister-in-law were there. All I wanted to do then was go back to being a good mum and fiance, or at least my daily struggle to be both of those things!
Everything has settled down now. Dressings are off but sleeves still firmly on. I still feel like a gaping black hole of nothingness, but y'know, who doesn't?