Good Bye Knife

I went to counselling yesterday and cried a lot.  It was god though. My counselor said I should get rid of my knife, but I didn't know if I was ready.  She said it's like telling an alcoholic to keep drinking until he is ready to give it up complacently.  It doesn't work like that. It's an addiction.  You gotta get it out of your house.

Yesterday, for the first time ever, I felt ok with the idea of never cutting again. Maybe it's because I went everywhere I wanted to go and found nothing there that I thought would be.  In the past I haven't wanted to give up cutting because there were so many possibilities that had never come to pass.  For instance, I  had never gotten to see a wide gash or know what it felt like. I had never cut my stomach or thigh or anything else I had read about on the internet. Blood had never ran down my arms like I thought would be cool... And so on...  Now all those things have happened  and they weren't great at all.  But now that it's all said and done, I know that, and I know enough is enough.  I'm ready to quit.

My counselor also told me that as we discover and analyze what has made me cut and all of the pain I have buried, I will probably feel depressed and it will be hard, but sometimes it has to get worse before it gets better.  There will probably be times that I'll want to feel numb ( that's what I'm used to doing. I don't know how to cope with anything. I am used to numbing myself to the real problems and creating new ones that I feel capable of worrying about or dealing with.)   but I don't have to fee numb. I can cope in other ways, I just don't know them yet. And if I really do need pain, I can squeeze an ice cube. It hurts like hell.  Before, holding an ice cube was weak to me. I wanted to be emo, I was forcing myself. Seeing the cuts to prove I actually did it was what I wanted.  I wanted it to seem brutal.  I don't need that anymore.  Now if I still feel like I need marks on my body, I draw on myself with sharpie.  Last night I drew an anchor on my wrist representing how God holds me in place and is my security. I also drew a chain going around my wrist and breaking in the middle with a cross in the background representing how Jesus is my Bondage Breaker.

I gave my knife to my mom this afternoon.  We didn't really exchange any conversation, it was just what it was.  In a lot of ways I am glad to be rid of it.

Here we go on another adventure.