Just in case anyone was wondering.
I have been doing really well recently. My intensive therapy gave me so many needed skills for improving my resilience, coping ability, and all-around mental health. I’ve been high on life lately. Confident. Trusting in my relationships.
And, I have depression. That means my brain is wired to think and react to triggers in very specific ways. These habits of thought have an impact on my emotions and behavior in ways I can’t predict, and often for reasons I don’t fully understand at first.
That’s where I am right now. A minor series of events that happened throughout the course of last week chipped away at my self esteem. First, my mood started to slide down hill. And then all of my old depressive behaviors started to creep back out of the shadows of my symptoms.
I think it’s the behavior part of depression that people understand the least.
My life looks completely different when I’m depressed. All of the sudden, any ability to behave like an adult disappears. I become flaky, unreliable. I ghost. I don’t clean the house, ever. I nap a lot. I spend a lot of my time laying down. I definitely can’t feed myself.
But the behavior people seem to understand the least – the behavior I have the most difficult time admitting to – is engaging in self-harm.
I have engaged in self-harm since I was a child. For most of my life I would hit myself in the head and face in moments of extremely low self esteem. I would also dig my fingernails into my palms, or opposite biceps, until they broke skin. In my 20s, I progressed to cutting myself.
This is very difficult for me to admit. Frankly, I’m embarrassed. Our socio-cultural understanding of self-harming behavior, or non-suicidal self injury (NSSI), is extremely narrow. When most people think about self-harm, they likely picture a melodramatic teenage girl. This isn’t altogether inaccurate as self-harming behavior most often takes place when someone is a teen or young adult.
That being said, the stereotypes and myths we carry about self-harm can increase the feelings of shame and guilt for people who engage in it. For instance, there is no reliable data showing a gender bias in self-harmers as toxic masculinity makes it less likely for those who identify as cis males to admit to engaging in NSSI. Furthermore, although females are more likely to cut themselves, males more commonly choose different methods for self-harming. Being a member of the LGBTQ+ community can make someone more likely to engage in self-harm – 47% of bisexual females have engaged in self-harm at some point. A lot of people grow out of engaging in NSSI. But, like acne, a lot of people don’t.
On the contrary, self-harm can actually become addicting. Just like any coping mechanism, our brains like to form habits for reacting to specific triggers. Habits allow the brain work less hard throughout the day. This becomes a problem when the habitual behavior is toxic and dangerous to the person engaging in it.
Self-harm helps us cope in the first place because of the endorphins released from the brain as it reacts to the pain. These endorphins create a short, but intense, feeling of euphoria that helps humans cope with pain. They are the same endorphins that the brain releases while engaging in physical activity, and can also help people cope with emotional pain (which is why mental health professionals generally advise their patients to exercise). In this way, engaging in self-harm is similar to using alcohol and drugs as a coping mechanism for emotional distress.
The brain forms habits through engaging in a “habit loop.” First there is a trigger (an emotion I can’t cope with), in reaction, there is a behavior (cutting myself), followed by a reward (intense euphoria).
Not only does this euphoria feel better than crushing depression, it is likely the only thing I have even felt in days by the time I’ve been pushed to self-harm. And this is why it becomes addicting. Because, like any high, those endorphins don’t stay in my system forever. And, as they ebb away, I am left with shame and guilt in their wake.
I’ve engaged in self-harm since I was a child. This is not something I’m proud of. Honestly, this is one of my deepest, darkest, secrets (that I’m now putting on the internet). I’m embarrassed that, at 28 years old, I still engage in self-harm.
But, there’s nothing I can do about it at this point. Radical acceptance right? And this is part of my story, even if I don’t like it.
And, obviously I’m trying to stop. But, that’s the thing about addiction; just like depression, it’s for life.
And that brings me back to my present: my self esteem is in the gutter. My exercises for coping with that fact aren’t working as well as I want them to. Need them to.
And I know that cutting myself will fix it. Cutting myself will give me the energy to unload the dishwasher, do yoga, play with the dog.
I’m obviously not going to cut myself. Literally every fiber of my being has been working at full capacity for days to make sure I don’t do it. I’m way too stubborn, afraid of failure, and exhausted to give into the temptation now.
Also, I’m having withdrawals that are testing every fiber of my will. My body hurts. All over. As if I have the flu. Since Saturday I’ve had an on-and-off migraine that has made me sensitive to light and sound. I have a persistent anxiety stomach ache. I’ve had three panic attacks in three days. I have been able to think of almost nothing else (which may be why I just had to research the topic to death and write this post about it).
Yes, I am still ok. I am taking care of myself and my husband is supporting me through this. I’m seeing my therapist tomorrow. I’m proud of myself for doing my best. I’m accepting that doing my best is good enough.
I also have to be present in this struggle, this pain. Because it is my truth.
This is what recovery looks like.
This is what recovery feels like.
It isn’t pretty and it hurts like hell.
An Experiment with Vulnerability 