Trauma really warps people…

Think about it; how in the world would anyone come to think of self-injury as comforting without something changing that self-preservation instinct.  If you grow up being hurt over and over, you start to feel that it’s normal.  Half the time i self-injured, the thought would cross my mind that no one could ever hurt me more than i can hurt myself.  No matter the damage they would try to inflict, i could always do worse (and creep them out enough in the process to keep them from trying anything else)… at least, that thought was there in the beginning, back when i first started in high school… the thoughts have changed since then. It had become more automatic, with fewer thoughts involved.  even when it got to the addiction stage though, i never once felt any pain when I went through with the act. Pain would have triggered me to stop, and had a few times.  It was only ever relief; like being able to breathe again after taking an inhaler for an asthma attack.  There are times i only vaguely remember doing it, but being somewhat amazed that i felt nothing from it, so i would try again to see if i could feel anything.  I am just now getting snippets of memories from my last really dissociative episode.  It lasted at least 2 days, well, i was in the hospital for 2 days without any memories of it.  I have faint hints of being really out of it.  I think i only remember parts of it because others told me what happened.  I do remember piercing my wrist at one point.  I somehow managed to convince the dbt therapist i was talking to that i need to go to my car for some reason… i remember sitting in the back seat of my car with the large safety pin from my first aid kit.  I remember being amused by the little pop my arm made as the pin punctured something inside.  Then i remember being back in her group room and intending to take only 1 ativan, but then i see her face and hear her ask me what i was doing… she was mad at me… that’s all i remember until i realized 2 days had gone by and i was in the hospital again… needless to say i was booted from the program…  apparently i was desperately trying to seek help while i was dissociating, but i guess i didn’t say outright “i need help”… 
I do not remember what lead up to that episode.  I’m not sure what pushed me over the edge, but something did.  I wish that therapist would have gotten back to me and told me what happened, but i never heard from her again.  I liked her. She was though. She called me on my Shit, but also listened when i needed it… i can’t remember her name for the life of me right now, but i remember her face as she walked in on me taking the ativan in her room… her anger is what i think allows me to remember that instant… it’s what allows me to remember that i wasn’t dissociating for that split second of her seeing me do that and me realizing what i was doing… but i don’t remember anything else around that day…
I wish i could talk to the people in that program to get a better idea of what happened.  I would ask what to look out for if it ever happened again…

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