miss_s_b: (Default)

State of the SB

Thursday, November 25th, 2010 10:50 pm
miss_s_b: DreamSheep dreams of the Angel of the North (DreamSheep: Angel of the North)
Have been off work sick yesterday and today. This is not good.

Saw the consultant yesterday; Gideon is a fibroid. He needs to be taken out, and I've been booked in for February (three months away FFS!), with the proviso that I can go in earlier if the surgeon gets a cancellation. My GP has given me some super extra strength painkillers to keep me going. I feel very down about the whole boiling.

Podcast is all recorded, but there have been some hiccups with the editing. I may put up a rough cut, just to get episode one out there.

Holly is having The Hobbit for her bedtime story and I got so into it that I was reading to her for three quarters of an hour tonight. She's loving it. She managed to wangle herself onto a school trip that we had no idea was happening today too, the little so and so...

Blogging mojo is all out of kilter.

All the above, though? None of that is why I am not going to help out in Old and Sad. If we lose the by election, the party will be wounded. The media will whap us with it. But if we win, with that candidate? I can only see damage resulting from that too. So I'm hiding under the duvet as far as Old and Sad is concerned. For more information, Andrew Hickey has written a post which is full of the conflict I feel.

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miss_s_b: (Who: Three (Chuck))
Last night I asked the internets whether they would rather I did a post about self-harm, or one about the coalition government. Predictably, the consensus was both, so I'm going to do the more difficult one first, and hope that once it's done I still have the energy to do the other.

I suppose the reason I am posting this is to try and illustrate that people who self harm are not dangerous freaks - at least, not dangerous to others - and that people who perhaps you wouldn't expect to be are self-harmers. For a long time I didn't categorise myself as a self-harmer. I don't cut myself, I never have. I don't carve words into my arm. Therefore I'm not a self-harmer. Of course, that's bollocks. What I do is, I scratch. If it all starts getting too much, if the anxiety and depression start to become overwhelming, I scratch. This is one of the reasons I keep my nails short. I tell people that it's for karate, to form a fist properly, or for climbing, but really it's to minimise the damage I can cause myself.

The standard harm I do is to attack my scalp. I know it's my brain causing the problem, so I try to tear off the skin covering it so I can get to it, poke it, and tell it to stop. A couple of weeks ago I had the fantastic idea of cutting my hair really really short to stop myself doing this: I don't want anyone to see the injuries, so if I have a #1 cut I will have to leave my scalp alone. This will stop me from reacting to stress by scratching, right? Well, no. You should see the state of my thigh right now.

The perception of self-harm is that it's a manipulative cry for attention; in my experience it's not. I never scratch anywhere I can't cover it up, and if someone does notice the injury I always have an excuse ready as to how it can have happened. Nor is it an attempt at suicide; if anything, it's the opposite. It's a coping mechanism, and it WORKS. If it didn't work, then I wouldn't do it. Other coping mechanisms do not give the same level of relief.

In my saner moments I realise that it doesn't help; that I'm internalising the anger I feel at how my life and my situation are so totally outside my control. But that doesn't stop me from doing it. I know that I am loved, and that the people who love me don't want to see me in pain. This doesn't stop me from doing it either. I don't know what would.

I don't have a satisfactory conclusion for this entry, either. But somehow, that seems appropriate...

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Hello! I'm Jennie (known to many as SB, due to my handle, or The Yorksher Gob because of my old blog's name). This blog is my public face; click here for a list of all the other places you can find me on t'interwebs.

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