u/senvalle

I have a history of self harm fantasies but not action. Today I went on a long walk specifically with the intention of finding a private place to hurt myself and went through with it. I wasn't thinking and did it right on my hand where it's extremely visible. It will almost certainly leave a scar, and a pretty distinctly self-inflicted one.

The thing is I was feeling fine today. I was not having any of the emotions or ruminating thoughts I associate with the desire to self harm. During my walk I was actually listening to a podcast that made me really happy and having a nice conversation with a friend. And then just casually burned myself on purpose because I wanted it to hurt.

I've been googling the method I used since getting home and it's sinking in what I actually did. That I'm going to be healing this for weeks and there's a high risk of it getting infected. That if anyone sees it there are very few if any reasonable excuses I can give for where I got it. I'm supposed to be going to bed right now but I kind of feel like throwing up. I don't know what happened and I want to talk about it but I'm just really ashamed of myself and I don't think I have anyone I can admit this to who won't make me feel worse.

I just don't understand. I feel like I can't trust myself.

I've had a lot of ups and downs with my mental health, especially the past couple years, but there's always the underlying sense that the highs don't balance out my lows. Even in my best moments these past few years, if someone gave me a button that would allow me to die instantly and painlessly, I would press it. I don't understand why anyone wouldn't.

Maybe it's different if you believe in an afterlife. But to me life is fundamentally suffering and death is relief. The only reason to try to make my life better is because I'm too afraid of physical pain to actually make an attempt. In my hypothetical I'm not concerned about how it will impact other people, I'm not concerned about the grief I'll cause, or the guilt of leaving my already-traumatized cat and forcing my family to rehome him, because I can only feel the pain of letting people down if I'm alive. I'm afraid to even tell my therapist about this because I don't think anyone could provide a compelling counterargument without relying on religious philosophies about death that I simply don't believe in.

The past six months or so I'm hitting a bad low. I've been on an upward trajectory with my mental health since I started transitioning, but a series of traumatic interpersonal conflicts seem to have erased all of that. I dropped out of college when I was nearly done with it, even though I love school and I'm good at it. I moved 600 miles away because I felt there was nothing for me in my city anymore, but I've been so isolated even though I live with my family now. I tried making friends at my new job, but convinced myself that everyone there hated me and quit. I tried volunteering and quit after my first day. I keep planning to go to group exercise classes, or drawing classes, or even just go to the bar on nights off, and I either don't do it or I ignore everyone for an hour and then go home feeling worse than before.

My SH urges have come back for the first time in nearly ten years. I alternately plot out the best places to cut myself so no one would ever find the evidence, or fantasize about someone seeing a mark from under my sleeve and immediately knowing how much I've been silently in pain and letting me take a break from being an adult for a while. I dissociate so much that I can't recognize my voice when I speak.

I have no long-term goals. I can't imagine a job that would both make me happy and isn't likely to be overtaken my AI, or aggravate my existing stress injuries. I have hobbies but I can barely focus on them half the time because I'm too dissociated or anxious or I just feel numb. I just don't want this life anymore. I don't know how to change anything.