NightGoddess's blog: "The Continuing Story of.....Me"

What Is Self Harm? We take 'self-harm' to mean a mechanism for those who use self-injury as a way to deal with or express their emotions, self-harm has specific psychological traits and is about the condition not the action. Self-harm brings about desired effects of pain, release, punishment, feeling substitution, freedom from inadequacy and many other effects that self-harmers require that they find in self-harm. Self-harm can also be a way to gain control in an out-of-control situation, or a way to make internal pain visible on the outside which puts the pain of negative emotions into a more easy to understand context. The knife as it slices brings blood of red, as I sit there with thoughts of death in my head. It happened quite often, the freedom and release that was felt with every cut a little of the pain did release. I would not say for what although some did ask I was too ashamed to tell...... They wouldn't understand What it was like to be trapped in hell, I was held captive by myself I kept her uunder lock and key this self destructive part of me. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Not A Spanking I see the mark, I hear her cry, She says, "Don'tell." I unhappily oblige. I cry for her and pray, That she does not make him mad, Because everytime she does, It's "Please, no...not again dad." I wish she would get out, And stay at some other place, I wasn't there when it happened, But I saw the pain on her face. I hope things get no worse, I can only sit here and listen, As she comes in every few weeks, And her eyes start to glisten. She will not show her tears, But I know that they are there, She goes home to cry on her bed, Thinking that no one really cares. My heart breaks everytime She shows me something new, Something he has done to her. The peaceful nights seem so few. I know I should report it, But she has been through this before, She says it makes it worse, So I will not open that door. I hope he really gets it one day, And gets hit with a pipe, He would really deserve it, Because he is the type That I'd love to get my hands on, And beat him til I can't move, But I know thats not the way, Because I have nothing to prove. -- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Fight of Everyday I woke up and rage filled my heart and mind, then your your shadow was over meall day long. I fought with you for control of myself, and this time I came to be strong. This time was unlike so many others when all I could do was give in... this time we reacheed a compromise instead of fighting to see who would win. It is a rare occurence for me to be able to calm you so that we may proceed as a team but it is a grand occasion when I do Because the results seem to be that of a dream. I hope this happens more often because I am tired of the fight for when your wrath comes down upon me my childlike self takes flight. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I find it hard to agree to supress this person inside who takes over when I am in distress. She has been there for years through thick, through thin and through many trials and tribulations I have come to find She has been my only true friend. Though she may sometimes hurt me and all those times in the past for she is the reason I sit here encased in glass. But shall anyone try to hurt me I know that she'll protect because she made it her job to take care of the feelings that I neglect. She helps me when I am down, and she helps me when I hurt. Towards the one who hurt me, her attention does divert. Should her wrath come down, have mercy on their souls for it is usually those I care for She's out for Blood roasts their hearts over lighted coals. I never remember much that goes on when she is on the Rampage I have to be gone. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Water/Fire I am Water and She is Fire while I give Love She has the Leadership and Power. As the Water surrounds and engulfs you so will the extreme Power of my feelings and if you ever trust me enough to let me have your heart again then you may just find it's that much more appealing. I have opened my heart to you so you can feel the things I cannot express for it is important these things be communicated so that we can be together and live on in happiness. I like being myself and having some control of the things that I do and being able to remember my role in everyday life. I had always thought by now I would be a ..wife and mother but I guess that's not in my cards it was meant for another. I am Water and She is Fire. While I have Love She has Leadership and Power.

Unconditional Love I feel myself falling, as you are seemingly stalling...Not wanting to trust me yet, if we don't pursue this, we may live to regret, missing the true bliss....of eachother. I dream of us holding eachother, kissing, whispering, caressing one another. I understand you're hesitance, but in my heart you've forever taken residence. I catch myself pondering, my heart never wandering, from your love touch, I am taken by your lips so lush. You give me butterflies and make my pulse rush. I dream of waking in your arms, with absolutely no fear of harm, never having cause for alarm. Everything is gonna be alright, until we awake to the morning light. I have got this feeling.....that my heart didn't need stealing. I believeI gave to you for free, what beforeothers would beg of me. You melted down my defenses and all my protectionwent down since the second night of conversation I was overtaken by my imaginationof what it would be like to be your girland let you take for a whirl. My love for you so strong, like the birds in spring chirping their song, as great as the day is long, I am right where I belong. When I am with you this I know, I will forever love you so. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Des Moines I called just to hear your voice across hundreds of miles. You said call, and I did because I needed to smile. I wish that we could be together, and your voice be in my ear. God only knows if that will happen, for only He has the right to steer our lives in that direction toward the right path so that we may reach our destination. I hope that one day He will lead me to you, while at the same time He leads He leads you to me so that we may be together and live our lives free of the constraints of distance and time, without any reason or rhyme. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I didn't know what to think after talking with you last night, My heart and mind are all a jumble Though I tried to control it with all my might. I know you will always be here in my heart, because I still have the space that I made for you from the start. You may have moved on and I know that you're doing fine, so this is why I am going to step away quietly and should you ever change your mind, then just pick up the phone or write me a note because Lovee I promise you, I mean every word that I wrote. Maybe we were just meant to meet and learn from one another but I find this hard to believe because I still suffer from the ache of not having you in my life, never to be by my side I see that you've moved on and that is why by your wishes I will abide. I will leave you alone not contact you anymore but sweetheart if you ever need me you know I'll be there. You have my numbers, you will always have my heart and soul until the Earth turns itself inside out and becomes a black hole. Just because I said goodbye in the harsh way that I did please understand it was not me just as I understand that what you said was not you. I do not write this with these fancy words to try to win you back I realize it is too late for that, but I feel it's the only way I can attack these emotions I feel inside without bursting into tears I want you to know how I feel and this is the only way I can say it and not feel like I will live to regret it for years. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'm just the woman who craves your affection the one who you met at the intersection of love and trust someday, someway we must have somehow parted ways but all the time we spent apart my heart never went astray Though physically with someone else you always had my heart and soul. Always and forever, never ceasing, I have no control. My heart has begun it's uphill journey toward increasing the feelings of love that were never decreasing It made it so much harder to wake everyday only to know I'd never hear you say "I Love You Forever and Always, Until Time Stands Still As the Sun Burns All the Nights and All the Days." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- If I could stretch my arms far and wide I know they'd be wrapped around you because it is by my heart that my body does abide. I know that you need me now and you will never be denied for even if I m not there in body you can always find me if you look deep inside. I wish we could be together sooner than when is planned but The Almighty and Father Time will work that out although it depends on the speed of Father Time's sand, it has forever been in His hands when addressing the gestures that work out His masterful plan.

The Night Everything Changed All my life I've looked forward to a brighter tomorrow, watching for a day that would be devoid of all the sorrow. Alas, I could take it no longer! At 2:13AM, July 18 of '94, I sat and watched helplessly as I walked out my bedroom door. I went to the kitchen though not to get a knife Instead I got the glass of water I'd need to swallow the pills that would soon take my life. I walked back up the stairs and stared at the bathroom door I took several deep breaths and I transformed as I'd done a thousand times before. Again I watched myself from some corner of my mind and I let her take over just this one last time. I changed my mind and tried to fight but it was no use She had bound me in chains and I took the abuse. When Shana was done taking every pill in the cabinet She numbly walked me to my bed where she had always intended me to lay until I was dead. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Medical Aspects....and Other Insights I know I've not said much about my condition or diagnosies, so I figured that it was high time I did so now. In 1994 is when my injury occured. I have a brain injury stemming from loss of oxegynto the brain. I wasn't born with it so therefore is not CP. I tried to commit suicide on July 18 of '94. I took an overdose of painkillers, muscle relaxers, sleeping pills, and tylenol as well as some cholesterol medicine I think. I basically took everything we had in the medicine cabinet, which was alot because my psrents had always saved pain pills and sleeping pills in case they needed them in the future to save money.....my father is very financially concious. Anyway, this past year's anniversary was the hardest for me. I am actually starting to try to DEAL with what really happened instead of making excuses and playing the what if game. I had been having flashbacks of it fr about a yr and a half in small snatches and on the night of July 18th this year, I was sitting here, on myspace, and typing and I all of a sudden felt my heart drop. I looked up at the clock on my computer and all of a sudden it was the clock in my old bedroom that night in 1994. It said 2:34AM....the whole incident quickly flashed through my mind.....I won't bore you with the details, but anyway when my mother found me laying in bed at about 5 or5:30, I was already turning blue from cyanosis(lack of oxegyn). Turned out I had had an allergic reaction to the Demerol which was one of the many drugs I had taken. By the time I was taken to the hospital and they pumped my stomach, most of the drugs were digested into my system and hadalready did the damage that they were going to do. The doctors told my mother and father that "this girl really wanted to die" because my grandmother said I did it to get attention. (dumb bitch, may she rest in peace) lol. When my parents were taken aside the doctor told them it was a miracle that I survived at all because I had taken enough pills to kill a full grown male elephant. The medics brought in a bag with all the empty pill bottles in it so that they would know how to counteract everything. The only thing was that it was too far along in the digestive tract to help very much. So, I was comatose for 6 weeks, which is actually ironic because I remember saying, "If I could just sleep for about 6 weeks, maybe all this stuff would just go away." I think sometimes God has a sick sense of humor, nevertheless, I realize that this may be part of some cosmic plan. Maybe I went through or am going through all of this so that I will make difference in someone else's life.....I really don't know. I guess all I can do is keep chuggin' ya know? Death isn't an option until I am wanted up there.....that's already been proven to me. I better stop there because if I go any further then you will all say I am nuts......but I will tell you this, people who are in a coma DO know what is going on around them.....they just canot respond to it. It's like being in handcuffs and shackels and not being able to move or speak......held captive in your own body while being poked and prodded and every touch feels like knives slicing your skin little by little. It was physically painful for me as well....... ***sighs*** ----------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------- A Reflection Everyone must have an outlet. It can be someone we trust enough to talk to, or it can be something on which we can take out our frustration. We should not let our emotions reach a boiling point. It is essential that we keep this in mind because what is done cannot be undone, and what is said cannot be unsaid. I had neither someone I trusted, nor something on which I could I could take out my frustration. I only had paper. I read novels to take me away from my hurts, my disappointments, my fears, and my expectations; nevertheless, they were always waiting for me when I returned.I chose my weapon carefully when I realized that I would be going into battle: this would prove to be a battle of emotions. My weapon of choice was nothing more than a black ink pen with the words Paper Mate written on the side of it. When I possessed my weapon, I was the commanding officer in my army of emotions. Nothing could bring me down. Although I had tried writing novels as well as short stories in the past, I was never diligent enough to finish them. I began writing at an incredibly young age. I was still in my first few years of elementary school when the first poem which I ever wrote was published in the local newspaper, and then went on to win an award.Sometimes when I remember that particular incident,I wonder if perhaps I may have started an unhealthy pattern. Even before puberty took its wrath out on me, I took pride in the fact that I was more mature than the other children in my age group. I believe that one of the main reasons I matured faster than the others was because the summer after second grade, I began my monthly cycle. At the time I thought it was wonderful, but as the years passed, I began to dread the one week out of every month that I was not me. The week before my dreaded cycle, I was like a land mine, and my sympathies were with the poor soldier who tripped over my wire and set me off. I never was a charmer, but the other three weeks out of the month I was in a decent mood most of the time.That is the side of me that I wanted people to remember. As a teenager, I never let my classmates, friends, and even my parents see my true emotions. The never the anger, hurt,resentment, or depression that hung over me like a dark cloud. As much as I wanted to open up to others, I didn't trust anyone enough to let one into those dark vulnerable places that even I was scared to go sometimes. In my mind, that would be the equivalent of going into battle without any armor at all. No smart commander would ever let his or her soldier do that. Image was everything at that age, and I couldn't afford to one of a weepy, cry-baby. I had to maintain my image, which was that of perfection. A common analogy that I have come to use for my image in this period of my life was that of a porcelain doll. Porcelain is extremely beautiful, but very breakable. My parents thought of me in this manner, and though they must have known that I had faults, they did not see them. As we all know a porcelain doll's beauty is not everlasting. Sooner or later, it is broken; consequently, it must be carefully glued together again by caring hands. The porcelain doll image was broken one lazy summer afternoon in July when I was caught.I could not deny it.I had no way to hide it, and there was no way to turn back time and undo what I did.Father Time would never be that kind. It seemed that my whole life I had played the role of the helpless victim to the horrid sense of humor shared by Father Time and Mother Nature. I played the role of their voodoo doll of sorts. It was only a few days later that I began writing in my normal absent minded fashion. Before I knew it, I had written five letters. One was to my best friend, another to my boyfriend, one to both of my friends that I walked to school with everydayand yet another that was addressed "To Whom it May Concern". I folded them each in half neatly so that when the time came, if it ever did, everyone would be able to tell which letter was to whom. For the next week I spent my nights writing, as usual. My writings were not as they usually were, though.Something was different in them. There was an underlying morbidity. It was almost sinister. There was a flood of emotion inside me. The only one I had ever let see my true emotions was the paper.Never had it lied to me or laughed at me.It would not go behind my back and tell everyone what I had said. When I got hurt, I talked to the paper. When I felt depressed, I talked to paper. When I was angry, I talked to my paper. It had always been my constant. The paper was the battlefield where my emotions were set free to fight amongst themselves. as long as I controlled the pen, I could do what I wanted with my emotions. I could make them march abou in single file or place messily about the battlefield to fend for themselves. I had to get rid of them, for they were a burden on a commanding officer who had to think of herself first this time. I unleashed my thoughts and feelings in the form of poetry most of the time. I wrote of feelings of unworthiness; I wrote of how I wanted to die, and of how Death's sweet embrace would be. The freedomI would aquire would be boundless. I told of knocking on Death's door, and how all five of my senses were awakened whhen I was welcomed. I wrote of his albino-like skin that seemed to hang from his bones along with his long velvet black cape. He had gaunt eyes or holes where the eyes would have been, and sunken cheeks. He seemed to stare at me with his empty eyes in wonderment. Hehad pointed teeth and a thin black mustache, which made for an evil, yet intriguing grin. His nose, which flared when he laughed, was long and thin with a pointed tip. He had thin, parched lips, as if he had been in the desert for a hundred years. His voice, raspy, yet oddly comforting, echoed throughout existence. He smelled of a mixture of clove cigarettes and charred flesh. I wrote of how the fabric of his cape slipped through my fingers as I clung to him for dear life. His lips longed to meet mine as much as my lips longed to meet his so many times before. I had cheated him, perhaps even teased him too many times in the past. He was not going to let go so easy this time. As I pulled at his hood, a feeling of calmness washed over me, and then our bodies were one. With his kiss came a serenitywhich I had never felt before. We were in oblivion. I felt pain; it was the kind of pain that I would associate with medieval torture devices. I begged him to make it stop. He could not. I began to hear voices. They were not coming from oblivion, but rather from a higher place above us.The pain was coming at more frequent intervals, getting more intense with each moment that passed. The more intense the pain became, the more I wished to leave oblivion. When I would hear the mysterious voices from above, I would try to speak. Death only tightened his grasp on my wrist and smiled his evil smile. It wasn't long before I realized that Death was the master and I was the dog in this particular instance. When I felt the unrelenting pains, I tried to move. He resorted to tying me down. After six weeks, he tired of this routine. I know this because I am still here. Perhaps he desired a more willing participant who would follow all the way through with it. Maybe he wanted it to be a clean cut, a no doubt about it kind of death. If he did that, he would only have to meet them and escort them to oblivion. It would be less work that way.There would not be all the seduction and hassle with a willing participant. Maybe that was fun for him for a while. Who knows? The one thingI learned from this experience was that we cannot elude fate. No one can decide when it is his or her time to leave this world. I have come to the conclusion that the only sure things in life are in fact death and taxes. Taxes are predictable; death is not. While taxes visit every year, Death takes his own sweet time. *Questions/Comments are always welcome and I will answer questions as honestly as possible*