January 12, 2015: get rid of my cutting knife

Yesterday marked one week since I had my last meltdown and cutting spree. Yesterday was also the day I spent with my mother and talking to the police after she called them to say that I had flushed my six year old daughter down the toilet. She also thought my children had been staying with her for the last two days (they hadn’t). She has schizophrenia and had been quite well until this slight break from reality. And yes, based on her past, this was a slight break. It was a long day but I’m hopeful that an update with her psychiatrist will take care of things quickly.

That was not how I had wanted to spend my Sunday. Less crazy taking care of more crazy. I had wanted to get rid of my knife yesterday, as a one week sane present to myself but it had to wait until today.

My withdrawal symptoms have been tolerable and my anxiety manageable with clonazepam the last two days. I cried in the shower this morning and I won’t be winning any cheerleading awards but I made it in to work today. The cuts on my arms haven’t healed quite enough to be able to wear short sleeves in public yet but I’ll be there soon.

I needed to get rid of my knife. It’s almost identical to the one I used when I was a teenager when I first cut myself. I kept this one in my bedside table. It was always there when I felt I needed it and folded away easily when I needed to hide what I was doing. Last Sunday was a bad night for me and I’m trying my best to never have it happen again.

Here it is:

I could have given it away of course because there is nothing physically wrong with it, but I wanted to get rid of it in a way that was meaningful to me. I fantasized about throwing it as hard as I could in a lake but then I felt badly of the environmental impact for the poor fish. In the end I decided to make the two blades incapable of cutting ever again. Suck it bitch.


8 days since last cutting
8 days since last purging
8 days since last alcoholic drink
8 days since last caffeinated drink
6 days since I started to ween off my anti-depressants.

I’m awesome!!! I’m going to keep telling myself that until I believe it and feel it.

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