Along with Bipolar: Self-harm

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 *This post is a discussion of self-harm. Though it doesn't contain any graphic descriptions, please don't read it if you feel it might be too unsettling or set you off.

Self-harm is in my mental illness history, and I’m grateful I haven’t had urges in over 2 years. But I’ll never be free from the prominent scars on my arms, legs, and torso that draw unwanted attention when uncovered and always stay in my mind.

People (mental health professionals and fellow patients alike) don't understand my hopefully former self-harming. It was brutal, not the type of temporary relief from pain many do. It was, at times, nearly suicidal, though that was never my intent. My motivation was to get into a psych unit, even as that was a crapshoot, an uncertainty about which hospital I'd land in and what type of staff would be overseeing me. I wanted out of my head, or just to be cared for, in episodes where I felt out of myself and lost in the depth of life. It was bipolar and obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) mixed with premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD), a potent concoction that rose in me & overwhelmed me. The thoughts were ceaseless.

Those incidents were torturous & hard to treat because I didn't feel comfortable about revealing the true nature of them.

I was savage about it and threw myself into an uncertain void.

My self-harming wasn't the common type.

The treatment I was offered really didn’t help. Dialectical Behavioral Therapy (DBT) groups restricted any talk of emotions or discussing actual self-injury feelings. I didn’t need to be taught skills. I wanted to rage, to scream about how hard life was and the unfair parts of growing up and how weird I felt, and to feel safe doing so, and to be supported. Yet, I got DBT instead and lots of meds, and lots of hospitalizations.

I tried a 30-day program, just for self-injurers, that allowed for some expression of grievances and hurt through specific writing assignments. Therapeutic support was good there, but then I had to fly back home, back to my actual life. My regular therapist failed to continue the work started in the program, even though she’d recommended me there. The focus and intensity that had benefitted me slowly wore off.

Self-harm stopped serving my needs after I detoxed from too many psych meds and entered menopause, haphazard combinations of meds and monthly PMDD no longer amplifying my distress. Now that I’m seeing a competent psychiatrist who only has me taking one med, bipolar ups and downs aren’t plaguing me either.

I only know my own self-injury patterns and how they finally ceased. I can’t tell anyone to not do it, that things will get better, that permanent scars might be a regret. I’m not an expert.

It’s all part of dangerous chapters in my life as I dealt with mental illness. I can’t wish it all away, but I take what I know now to pursue the right treatment and appreciate taking good care of myself.

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