Tw S3lf Harm - Blog Posts

TW: self-harm / suicide

I recently experienced my 3rd psychiatric hospitalization in 4 years and my first involuntary one. Well, partially involuntary. I wanna discuss this one for a couple reasons; firstly because it's the first one that's happened since I started this blog and second because it's the first one where I attempted to document my thoughts during my stay.

I started out with a wide-ruled notebook, but was later offered a pocket-sized college ruled one that I vastly preferred, so I copied everything I'd written up to that point including ripping out some of my doodles that were small enough to fit.

It started at noon on July 3rd. I had a scheduled therapy appointment during which I confessed to thoughts of self-harm. My therapist and my caseworker arranged for me to be transported to an emergency room and from there I would be taken to the first open bed they could find in a psychiatric institution. All of this I agreed to voluntarily.

I've censored the location and the doctor's name for privacy reasons. The "crying, slobbering fit" was so severe I was physically incapable of forming intelligible words. Every single time I write the name of a specific drug I spell it incorrectly because I was told the names out loud but not given anything with a label to read.

Some doodles I did post anxiety attack. I think that's the correct term for what happened. I'm still trying to find the appropriate terminology for whatever it is that's wrong with me.

I hope you're all prepared for many more 12 Monkeys references. Also just wanted to share the story of "Book Club Guy." There are several phrases I will never pronounce the same again thanks to him. He was discharged relatively quickly and I miss him every day.

The old man in question was barely capable of even standing and had apparently been in this hospital for close to a year. Incidents like the one described in the second paragraph happened more frequently as my stay went on as that particular patient grew more and more frustrated.

Also "Vitamin H" is a term for haldol that I heard somewhere once and I've been using it ever since.

At this point, my stay had boiled down to taking drugs and then sitting in front of the tv for hours. I felt that if that was all that was neccessary to keep me safe I could easily do that at home. I was told if I kept requesting to go home they would hold me involuntarily and so I pressed the issue really just to prove a point about how a "voluntary" status was bullshit. They essentially told me to put a pin in it and talk to the doctor again when he came back. Talks with the doctor rarely lasted more than a minute or two and I did not feel like waiting all night just to speak with someone for 60 seconds.

When the shift changed and the new nurses arrived I pressed the issue again and that's when they put me under the 96 hour hold. I requested a bible because I was bored and copied down a few verses that I liked. The hospital was a catholic institution so they had plenty of bibles lying around but only with the new testament and psalms. We also had prayers over the intercom every morning and night.

The thing that frustrated me most is that I was given very little time to talk to a professional of any kind. So one of the nurses offered to let me vent to them, which I did.

I was in the grip of another anxiety attack at the time. I was raising my voice, banging my head against the wall, pulling at my hair, etc. Me and the nurse were pacing back and forth down the hallway the whole time. At some point when I reached the end of the hallway, I turned around and a second nurse had arrived with syringe in hand and told me I needed something to calm me down.

We ended up compromising and just giving me a dose of clonazepam and sleeping in the quiet room so they could keep a closer eye on me, but I don't think I'll ever be able to fully trust nurses ever again.

If it wasn't obvious the book my parents had brought for me was Fear And Loathing in Las Vegas.

The last page or so was pretty all over the place. "The Corner Where You Can Hear God" was a corner where you could hear some type of machinery running 24/7 but only if you wedged yourself in with both shoulders against the wall. The patient who first pointed it out was half joking when he said it, but at some point I had taken to crawling into that corner to "pray." It brought some sort of comfort that I couldn't really explain.

Also fuck Wendy's and their stupid fucking ads.

I was released on July 11th at 11:52 am. As I was leaving the patient who had the outburst I wrote about on July 6th was melting down again. He insisted on leaving, and I quote, "TO-FUCKING-DAY!" He must have repeated that phrase at least a dozen times at the very top of his lungs. The image of him with half the nursing staff backed up against a wall, leaning further and further forward with each shout hasn't left my mind.

They insisted I not worry about it as they shoved me out the door.

As I write this now I don't really understand why I felt the need to write all this. I'm still not entirely sure what I've gained (or lost) from this experience.

As a child I was given a diagnosis that technically no longer exists. Our understanding of psychology changes every day. Our mental healthcare system doesn't.

I can't tell you how many times I've been told by a nurse that they just straight up don't know when one thing or another is supposed to happen. Nurses and patients alike are left hopelessly uninformed about decisions that affect the lives of countless people. If my 96 hour hold had ended on a weekend, I would have been forced to stay up to an additional 48 hours because hospitals can't be fucked to discharge people on weekends or holidays.

People who are less coherent than me, less capable of masking than me, less capable of controlling their emotions than me are trapped by the thousands in shoddy institutions run by emotionally disconnected bean counters kept alive by a dying backwater religion that steals billions from us every year.

I don't even know what to do anymore.

convinced everyone im better but im actually worse

me because i did sm work convincing everyone that i got better and i cant destroy that now

so tired i’m considering recovery 😭

cant take this any longer

I wish I was hated in all my social media, so I could cut myself, not thinking about that someone is caring for me.

WAR IS OVER

HOLY HELL, FINALLY A MONTH WITHOUT SELF-HARM, DEPRESSIVE THOUGHTS, AND URGE TO SU!C!DE, INTERESTING, WILL I GET 2 MONTHS???

HELL YEAH!! FINALLY 18 DAYS WITHOUT SH, GONNA GET A MONTH WITHOUT SH SOON🔥🔥🔥‼️‼️‼️🔥🔥💥💥

I wanna comm!t su!c!de on my birthday. I'll be free. I'll get rid of the pain. And when I do it, everyone will be happy.

I'm sorry mom for being a bad daughter. I'm sorry for the bad grades, but now... You don't need to worry about them<3

19.03.2024.

TW: Bl00d!!

Don't report, just block if you're sensitive towards sh and bl00d. Hope you're okay, because usually these kinds of posts are watching people who are struggling with sh.

Help your child before it's too late.

(The bl00d looks so faky tbh. Probably because my phone is making everything brighter:/)

My birthday will be in 2 days, yet I still have suicidal thoughts, and desire to cut myself:/

Never expected to stay clean(?) for 14 days... Well, how to say clean.... If I can't cut, I'll beat, bite, and burn myself, just because it gives me more pleasure. And I bit myself so hard that there are bruises left after that

How many degrees do I need to make a first degree burn? Just trying new methods of sh!

Can someone give me another methods of self-harm which isn't visible? Cuz soon in our school will be a medical checkup and I don't wanna end up in psych ward!

I'm already looking forward to cut myself and just the thought of cutting makes me all flustered!!

I'm f#cked up.

I'm tired, I'm tired of everything. All my hobbies became a daily routine, and I don't feel anything towards them. My friends started to avoid me after my vents, and I completely understand this. I'm tired of school, and I haven't got any straight to just get up or change clothes after school. All I think about is s3lf-h@rm and how much I want to commit su!c!de. I feel like my life is trying to force me to do it. I feel like it'll happen. And I know that I will commit su!c!de.

I tried to k!ll myself by cvtting my veins, but the saddest thing is that the knife didn't reach them.

TW/CW: SU!C!DE

Can't describe how much I want to commit su!c!de. Just the thought of my body laying in the snow, which soaked with my bl00d, while my phone recording me and thousands of people could see how I struggled makes my desire only bigger. Looks like I'll end up jumping off the roof... Anyways who cares...

TW: CW: SU!C!DE PLAN.

Okay, okay... I think I've suffered enough, so... This is how I wanna end my life.

Firstly, I've decided that I wanna jump off the roof, because this seems the best way to do it. I already found a high-rise building, so I just need to come in, and when I wait for people to open the door for me, I'll start a livestream. Before I jump, I'll cvt myself, and I'll cvt so much that I'll be a piece of meat. After that I'll jump off the roof, hoping that someone will remember me. I'll also wear my favorite clothes, because if die I'd prefer to die only in it.

I love the fact that with this thing I could cut myself at school and nobody will care!!♡♡

♡♡♡

Okay, I got used to relapse after few days of school, but.... WHY THE F#CK I RELAPSED ON HOLIDAYS? I can't describe how much I wanna cut my arms in a bl!!dy mess, I can't describe how much I wanna make deep cuts, but... I'm still afraid of my self-h!!rm being discovered... Especially if it'll see my teachers, neurologist, parents, etc... I just don't get this feeling when I cut my legs:(. Also I'm self-h!!rm!ng about 7 months, lol

I don't wanna get help anymore.

I have no idea why, but everyone became so supportive out of blue... Literally, my parents started talking about that I need a psychologist, and that they'll bring me to them. My classmates let me vent out, and gave me support, but the problem is... I don't want help anymore. I already made my decision. But the worst thing is.... I relapsed. But, sometimes I think, what's happening with me? Why I feel like this and etc. But I just started to think that's just a phase, hormones or something... Even though I have it for 3 years, Lol

Hey guys, I've a question. What do you think about cutting cuz of grades? Does 3 cuts compensate 3 (if we're talking about USA It'll be C)? And does 5 cuts compensate 2 (F if we're talking about USA system)?

Or I shouldn't cut at all? Anyway, I'm gonna do it now...

PLEASE HELP ME!!!

I can't keep fighting with it anymore, I can't describe how much I wanna take out my kn!fe and cut my arms. I wanna make too many cut, to make them bl!!dy mess. I can't fight it. I already cut my legs, but it doesn't help. Please. PLEASE. PLEASE!! Someone, please help me. I can't fight this urge, one more hour and I'll turn my arms in a mess. Looks like I have an addiction...

ughh..blood soaked through my favorite shirt

the brotherhood….. more like the BOTHERhood………sigh…… i miss you azure….