Self Injury Awareness (I missed the Day)

I’d like to say I did a lot of research regarding Self Injury Awareness Day (SIAD) – indeed, that was my intention, but instead I have trawled through my email spam box (just in case), googled random people I know (again – just in case) and curled up on the bed cuddling my oh-so-cuddly whippet.

SIAD was actually 1st March, and I only found out about it after the event via twitter – just the one tweet, so maybe a little more awareness wouldn’t go amiss.

I did learn one thing when I first set out to educate myself about SIAD. A user-led charity called LifeSIGNS (Self-injury Guidance and Network Support) has supported this day for several years, and are the number one resource for SIAD material. I was wondering how a day like this works and they pretty much answered my question in one succinct sentence: ‘Raising awareness is about educating people who do not self-injure, and reaching out to people who do.’

As most of my writing is from experience and not research (I get very distracted when I try to research) I thought I would give my tuppence worth of input (albeit a bit late for the day itself) for Self Injury (self-harm) Awareness.

I know from experience that the question most asked by people who don’t self-harm is why? Why do we injure ourselves? I also know, from experience, that this is one of the hardest questions to answer: it feels impossible to put into words how being so cruel and destructive to ourselves can possibly help an already dire situation.

For me, self-harm expelled feelings and expressed them; it made the feelings and the pain tangible and explicable. More often than not I was unable to articulate the overwhelming emotions I was experiencing, and self-injury was me attempting to externalise all that I had internalised. I was overpowered, and afraid: I needed a voice, but I could not speak.

Raising awareness is about educating people who do not self-injure,

and reaching out to people who do.

I can’t speak for everyone who self-injures, but I know that there have been certain things that have helped me in times of unbearable distress, and other things that absolutely didn’t help.

To be unaware, or uneducated, with regards to self-injury is not, in itself, a bad thing – it is what it is; if you have never come across it, you have no need to learn and become aware. But being unaware can be terribly negative and unhelpful if you are suddenly faced with it and have no real clue what it is you are dealing with. I have come across some very well-meaning people, usually professionals, who have tried to help in ways that have only served to compound my sense of isolation, and reinforce my fears of forever being misunderstood.

I have been advised to count the number of red cars that drive past my window when I felt the urge to self-harm, in an attempt to distract myself. I have been told that my self-harming is selfish and manipulative, even though I had struggled for years without ever telling a soul. I have been told I am weak-willed, and even that I am playing games by self-injuring.

On the rare occasion that I have had to seek medical attention as a result of an episode of self-harm I have been kept waiting for several hours, the explanation being that there were people much more important than me to see and I was at the bottom of the list. I have sat in a waiting room listening to medical staff, feet away from me, talking about me as though I wasn’t there, telling their colleagues that there is ‘no point stitching her, she’s covered in scars – one more won’t make any difference’.

I give these examples as an idea of the damage that can be done if people are not aware of, or educated on, the issue of self-injury. I had, in each of these instances, trusted someone with the most vulnerable and frightened part of myself. I was ashamed and embarrassed to be where I was, and yet I needed help. My sense of self-worth was rock-bottom when I reached out for help, and it was, on these occasions, pretty much annihilated completely.

I didn’t ever need someone to fix me, cure me or rescue me.  Of course that would have been nice! but usually it was not what I needed. I didn’t even need someone to understand. In fact I think it would be unreasonable of me to expect someone to understand something I cannot explain.

What I needed was someone to be with me in my pain and shame. I needed someone who didn’t judge, didn’t assume, and didn’t reject; someone who kept loving me when I felt utterly unlovable. I needed someone who would care, without enabling, or colluding with, my destructive behaviours, and who would also be honest with me when they needed to – honest, but gentle with it; never condemning or critical.

If you want to help a self-harmer in their time of deepest darkness and greatest need, you don’t have to have any answers – you just have to care. And please don’t forget to care for yourself as well.

As frustrating or painful as it is to witness the impact of self-injury on someone you love or care for, be as patient as you can. I do not know a single person who uses self-harm as a coping mechanism who isn’t desperate to find a different way to cope. Silence is often much more comforting than platitudes and promises you can’t keep, and being by somebody’s side when they need you most is more powerful and far-reaching than you may ever know.

I appreciate this may be a tough topic to read about for many people – it certainly is a tough topic to write about (despite my initial enthusiasm at feeling I had been handed a blog-topic on a plate). I have few answers or explanations to offer as an insight into self-injury, but I do know what has helped me and what hasn’t helped me in the past.

Whether you are a self-harmer or not, there is always hope. Sometimes the self-harmer needs a friend or carer to believe this for them, and sometimes the friend or carer needs someone to offer living proof that this is true. It is true.

If you or someone you know needs professional help, I urge you to seek it immediately, and in the meantime the likes of me will do our utmost to raise awareness of self-injury within all walks of life.

Things I didn’t think through

As you may or may not know, I am having a book published. A Sad and Sorry State of Disorder – a journey into Borderline Personality Disorder (and out the other side) is due for publication on 21st June 2017.

This is amazing. Incredible. Fantastic. A dream come true… all of that. But there are some things I didn’t think through, and now I am thinking them I fear it is too late!

When I started to send out my manuscript to publishers, I realised that I had not thought certain – obvious – pitfalls through: The waiting to hear back; the paranoia when it takes ‘too long’; the overwhelming sense of rejection when I am – erm – rejected; the feeling of utter uselessness and pointlessness because my book is rubbish and will never be published.

All of that, and more. And even when a publisher had accepted I still had (have) moments of ‘oh shit they’ve changed their minds’ because I haven’t heard from the editor in 3 days. I didn’t think any of this through, when I first sent my book off. I was just full of an intense pride and excitement – pure BPD style, if you know what I mean! I didn’t really think anything through at that stage.

So now, I’m at the stage where my book is undergoing some form of editorial process. I haven’t heard from the publishers all week (!), but I am managing to believe it is still happening. And as such, I find myself compelled to look at the next list of ‘Things I didn’t think through’.

Basically the book is about me and my journey to learn to live with, and manage, borderline personality disorder. It has some of my poems in it, and it has a whole load of me bearing my soul and telling the reader exactly who I am. What was I thinking? I ask myself, seriously – what? People I know may read this, and know more about me than is ever societally normal to know – very un-British I’m sure. People I don’t know may read this and wonder who the hell I think I am to be writing a book like this.

People might not like the book. Shit, people might not even buy the book to like or otherwise. But supposing they buy it and they hate it, or think it’s weak, or badly written, or just plain boring or… the possibilities of negative are endless here. And this is what I really didn’t think through. Will I be reading reviews in July that wipe every smug air of achievement and pride from my lopsided smile? Will I be ashamed to leave the safe confines of my house and show my face in public?

I was pleased with how I have learned to manage my BPD, and writing a book that focusses on my journey consolidated this. And yet suddenly I feel I am thrown back in time and my progress is not all I imagined it to be.

These are the things I did not think through, and to be honest, I’m glad I didn’t!

Had I thought this far ahead I doubt very much that I would have had the courage to submit my book to publishers. I would probably have kept my book close to my chest, wishing that it was good enough for a publisher to believe in, and feeling wholly miserable that I would never amount to much as a writer. As it is, I took a leap of faith (albeit impulse driven) and it has paid off – so far. Thinking things through has its place, and impulses sometimes need reigning in, but in this particular instance I think they made a good but somewhat sneaky swap.

So now I am doing all I can to ‘be in the moment’ (I always feel ridiculously patronised when people use this phrase to try to help me, and yet here I am bandying it around with my own free will!) I am constantly having to remind myself to try and enjoy the process of the editing/publishing phase, and to accept that this is actually happening; nobody is about to spring out of a box and cackle ‘April Fool!’ at me (they’re not, are they?)

I am taking each day at a time. Sometimes each hour at a time when needs must. I am trying to look less at my phone, refresh my emails less, and just revel in the fact that somebody (Jessica Kingsley Publishers) is willing to take the risk and invest in what I have written.

I am taking the smallest of steps into the greatest of adventures, one tiny step at a time. And when I am not worrying about all the things I didn’t think through, I am basking in the glory of being an almost published author!

ps. What if no one likes my blog? I didn’t think that through either!

 

In case you were wondering, my book A Sad and Sorry State of Disorder – a Journey into Borderline Personality Disorder (and out the other side) is available for pre-order.