Romanticizing Self Harm.


There’s a rant coming up, guys. A huge one. Be warned, though, because there will be triggering content in this post and I don’t want to trigger anyone 🙂 There are hotlines and cookies at the end of this post, take care!  ~Trigger Warning~

There’s been  lot of buzz around the self harm “trend” with teenagers these days, and I would just like to express my opinion on that, which is that it’s complete and utter bullshit. I mean, are you kidding me? Making a trend of self harm while there are people suffering in silence? I mean, come on, just look a9191c622808d7cf5e288dc0e3c244eaet the picture I’ve shown here (there are ones that are horribly graphic, they just make me so sad to see) Now, I’ve seen this happen first hand and the memories of it are saddening and almost disturbing. Let’s call this friend X, shall we? Okay, yeah, we’re calling her X. So I had slipped into a very horrid time where I was questioning my sexuality and I got into cutting and self-depreciation and all that shitty shit (whoa, impeccable use of adjectives there, don’t you think?). Now, me being me, I just decided to grit my teeth, slap on a few bracelets, get my trusty hoodie on, and call it a day. Well, call it a year. Because I was a cutter for one repulsive year, ugh. So anyway my whole ‘suffer in silence routine’ was interrupted one fine day when friend X comes up to me on Messenger and she tells me she cut that day. Obviously my first instinct was to give both support and advice, and to tell her I’d be there for her. Up till this point, she had no clue I cut and I never wanted to tell her. Anyway, we get to school and I  go to her in a hurry because duh, I want to fix her while it’s still early. For some reason she seemed intent on showing me her scars, and this was when I noticed it- an almost bizarre pride that she seemed to get from showing them to me. That’s when the shit show began. Slowly she started diagnosing herself- anxiety, depression, even stretching out to suggest she had bulimia. Guys, don’t get the wrong idea, I would never say she was faking it if I wasn’t sure, and that fucked up smile on her face she had when displaying her scars were more than enough for me. As somebody who used to cut, I knew right then it was the cry for a wrong type of attention.

That’s the first time I’ve seen self harm romanticized on a level that was very up close and personal. I won’t say I’m not guilty of scrolling through the tumblr quotes with pictures of sad girls and black and white blades. I have looked at them before, trying desperately to wrestle some beauty out of my misguided coping mechanisms. Here’s the catch- in no way did these sites ever influence me to start self harming, I can’t blame them for that mistake that I made. I started cutting all on my own, and that’s not the most pleasant thing to take credit for. However the romanticizing on these sites was from a community of misguided people just like me. A bunch of self harmers trying to justify their mistakes, their addiction? Yeah, there’s no way for that to end well. They gave me something to relate to in the most negative way possible, telling me it was okay and even beautiful to cut. It is not. What’s really beautiful is recovery, nothing can be more beautiful than that. Sure, call faded scars beautiful- they are a sign (mostly) of an attempt at recovery. but to tell the 15 year old girl who posts pictures of her open, bleeding self inflicted cuts on Instagram that her injury is beautiful is just going against her recovery. While I can’t emphasize enough that I am all for people accepting and loving their self harm scars, I cannot stand when people don’t accept that it was wrong of them to make those scars in the first place. Was my self harm something I regret? yes. Will I let that eat at my self esteem? no. But that philosophy is nowhere to be found on the sites of teenagers who want to romaticize something that is undoubtedly a problem.

tl;dr- Self harm is not cool, not a trend, and more importantly, never something to be proud of. Self harm is an unfortunate coping mechanism. To any self harmer who may be reading this, I love you and I can tell you you are worth recovery ❤

Thank you for reading! wanna check out more rants and weird attempts at poems and musings? My blog is open, and if you’re nice I’ll hand out cookies xD Anyways, if you’re currently struggling with depression and are feeling alone, take this free hug (click here and here and here for cute GIF s that send hugs from me to you ^^)and also a few hotlines, just in case.

Vent to an anonymous stranger-

In case you’re feeling suicidal-

Hotlines for Depression specifically-



Things I Wish They Told Me About Recovery



Trigger Warning- I’ll be discussing self harm and depression recovery in this post. If you’re easily triggered, you might want to skip to the last paragraph of this post, where I’ve got cookies, hug GIFs, and hotlines, take care! ❤ 

Well, I’ve had myself caught up in the whirlpool called recovery for quite a few months now. I’m almost six months clean now, and it feels like a bittersweet trophy to house in my head. I’ve learnt a lot, lost a lot, and overall I’m still trying to convince myself that choosing recovery was a choice that would put me on the right track. Entering the experience, though, there were so many things I was unaware of. Looking back at the person I was before recovery , (y’know, broken and sad and constantly crying and collapsing in on herself? yeah,  her. I don’t identity as much  with her anymore.)  I realize that there were so many things I had no idea about when getting into recovering. I realize how sadly misinformed I was before strapping myself in for the roller coaster that was recovery. I can’t say I look back at making the commitment to recovery with no regrets, but I will say that over time my sounds have started to slowly heal, and for that I am grateful. So, without further yippity yap (yes I just made up a word) here’s a few things I wish I knew before I started the journey to recovery.

  1. The road seems endless, and it’s so much longer than you thought. If you thought recovery road looked  impossibly long before you started the marathon, you’re in for an even nastier surprise- it’s so much longer. I thought the road to recovery was impossibly long even before I started to recover. I realized, around 5000 obstacles, trips, and turns too late, that the road is much longer than it looks. It will test you and trip you up, and you will push your limits to find that you limits push back. Does it sound scary? Well, there never was anything easy about recovery. Even the decision to recover is one that is hard to make. Recovery, especially from self harm, means that you are battling your demons head on, which is often the very thing you were running away from. It means facing up to your addiction and fighting countless battles in an attempt to win a war, all while you go on with your daily life.  The already long road is made longer by your attitude to taking on the marathon, and eventually there will come a point where even those of the strongest emotional willpower will find themselves having a shitty attitude towards recovery. I will admit, I was skeptical about my recovery as well, and my attitude towards recover made the whole thing so much more goddamn difficult. Now, I’m trying to change the way I look at recovery, and that starts with my conscious mind. While I can’t help that sometimes I dream that I didn’t throw my blades down the sink,  can control the way I consciously think about relapse and self harm. I’m really trying to be as strong as I can be, and I think I can slowly see the climb to recovery as one that’s become less torturous and more rewarding. It takes time to heal this, but now the way I’m approaching my battle is so much more helpful. If me from a year ago read this, I’d roll my eyes at myself. It took me time to realize that everyone who gave me cliched advice about recovery had a point.
  2. It’s a 24/7 commitment. I know, this is one that seems obvious, but I overlooked how much of a commitment recovery really is. (hint: it’s a huge one) To be honest, it struck me so hard that I can’t just ‘take a break’ from recovering. Whether I’m asleep, awake, crying, laughing, angry, doing nothing or being incredibly busy, I would not stop being in a state of recovery. In a way, it was like a persistent empty check box on my mental to-do list of all the shit I’ve gotta do to pull myself back together. It’s not really a check box that will just leave, either. It will always be around, and one you’ve committed to recovery you will always be recovering.  I can only imagine how obvious all of this may seem to anyone who has never had the experience, but I guess if you know what this is like you’ll understand what I’m trying to say over here. I wish somebody told me that recovery is more of a commitment than I ever thought it would be.
  3. It involves guilt, lots of it. Yep, I said it. You shouldn’t ever feel guilty for putting yourself first (self care for the win!) but that’s not the kind of guilt I’m referring to. I’m talking about the burning guilt I feel, even now, when I look back to a week ago where I had a breakdown and tried to smash the blade out of my sharpener just because I needed something to harm myself with. I also feel guilty because a week ago, I discovered that kitchen knives are much more blunt than they look. Oops. That’s right, Internet, I almost relapsed and I’m a crazy fucking psycho because I decided those sharp, big-ass kitchen knives were not as vicious as they look. I stuck around to discover how sharp they were, because I get crazy, (I am crazy sometimes) not to mention crazy guilty later. I feel so guilty typing that and admitting that I have my moments of weakness where I feel like I needed a blade to get through. I’ll always be guilty about relapse and about how somewhere deep inside my twisted brain, I wish I could still run to the safety of the blade. About how much I still think about going down the dark route. Even thinking about relapse makes me guilty, and all of a sudden things started to take a turn for the worst in ways I didn’t see coming. My boyfriend could literally kiss my scars (read a post about that here if you want a clearer picture on the relationship between kisses ad self harm scars) and I’d feel guilty. I always feel like by being weak and having my weak spots I’m doing a dis-service to the people who love me. My self harm took an emotional toll on the people that are close to me. I remember my friend telling me I was underestimating how much my relapse had impacted everyone close to me, and how my boyfriend had tears in his eyes when he realized I relapsed. All I feel looking back is burning guilt that scorches down to my soul and rubs it raw. Even now, it makes me feel selfish. I couldn’t even be strong enough to resist relapse. I was selfish enough to disregard the emotional cost my relapse would entail, one that would have to be payed by people who loved me and cared about me. People were getting hurt by being close to me, all because I couldn’t control myself. That’s the kind of guilt that came with recovery, and it felt and still feels pretty bad. Nobody warned me about the guilt that came with having a support system. I’m so incredibly lucky to have a amazing support system with amazing people, and honestly I couldn’t have imagined that they’d be a source of guilt. That being said, if you learn to handle that guilt properly it can actually be quit useful– some people would possibly let the guilt break them down, and it’s easy to see how that could happen, or at the very least let the guilt bruise them, or cause their beings to collapse. When the guilt came flooding in, it wrecked my walls. It’s easy when you’re in the vulnerable state of recovery, to just let the guilt drown you. With me however (while I won’t pretend that I didn’t have weak moments) I somehow learnt to use the guilt to motivate me, because I knew the guilt came from a good place. I wanted to get better, and I was guilty because I couldn’t. I slowly learned to be patient with myself ad to not feel guilty for making such slow progress. Rememberforward is forward. We all have our own pace, you should never feel guilty for not being able to scale a mountain in one day, sometimes molehills are huge enough to climb as it is. Believe me, I know. ❤
  4. You will have emotional ‘explosions’. More than you thought you would. Seriously, the amount of emotional explosions I’ve had were shocking to me. I’d find myself crying for very small things, like an argument with my mom which I would’ve otherwise been indifferent to. My explanation for this was that the bigger things had been building up so much, and I had to vent out my anger and frustration through the smaller things. The smaller things began knocking me down because I was privately fighting a much bigger battle, silently trying to fight a raging fire inside of me. As a result, there were a few weeks where I’d just get super emotional over everything simply because I was mentally begging for release, the kind of release I used to get from self harm. The midnight crying sessions were exhausting and lonely. I felt like a freak for constantly exploding, as though I  couldn’t keep anything in if I tired. While I’ve been recovering, I’ve been predictably vulnerable. Like a feather, I felt as though the slightest emotional wind was enough to knock me down. I’m slowly trying to get over this. To stop over analyzing, start getting stronger and coping with things healthily. It will be tough (Rome wasn’t built in a day!) but  guess what? I’ve learnt that recovery is about gradually regaining that emotional strength so that you’ll stop needing to turn to  the blade every time you want some validation. You’ve got to learn to be patient with yourself. Let yourself cry over stupid things, let yourself get emotional.. Give yourself time to feel things and go through the emotions, because this is recovery and you will make it eventually, just be patient and know that these times won’t last. So, to anyone who’s new to the whole recovery thing- expect some outbursts. They don’t make you weak, I promise. They just make you human.

For me, the hardest part of recovery is needing to find a different coping mechanism apart from self harm whenever I’m emotionally overwhelmed and feeling low. Y’know, for those nights you have where you just can’t take it anymore? Yeah, those. I found it so tough to cope with those in a more.. well, healthy manner. (anyone who’s experienced depression will know what I’m talking about, it’s pretty brutal and emotionally intense). When I’m overcome by these emotions in this manner (click here to check out a post I wrote on how it’s like at night for a person with depression if you want a clearer picture) it’s hard not to turn to my blades as a solution. It is hard to slap myself in the face with cold, hard, reality, and tell myself to stop thinking those thoughts.

While recovery is undeniably scary, here’s the last thing I wish somebody told me about recovery…

6. It’s 100% worth it. YOU ARE WORTH IT.

That’s right, you’re 100% worth the ride to recovery, and it may seem scary (I apologize if I’m making it sound super scary) but it is a step towards a better life for you. Recovery’s  a challenge that I know you can face and you will kick ass at it eventually. Will you slip up a few times? Yes. Take a few wrong turns? Yes. You’ll make mistakes and learn while you recover, and sometimes it’ll feel more like a punishment than like healing, but it’s something that will make you a much better person in the end. You will be stronger, happier, healthier, and you’re going to look in the mirror and finally like what’s looking back at you. You’ve got to hurt in order to heal, and recovery is allowing yourself to acknowledge the negativity and deal with it in a way that leaves you stronger. You’re amazing, and you can recover. We can images (2)recover.

Thank you for reading! wanna check out more rants and weird attempts at poems and musings? My blog is open, and if you’re nice I’ll hand out cookies xD Anyways, if you’re currently struggling with depression and are feeling alone, take this free hug (click here and here and here for cute GIF s that send hugs from me to you ^^) and also a few hotlines, just in case.

Vent to an anonymous stranger-

In case you’re feeling suicidal-

Hotlines for Depression specifically-

A Rant On Stigma.

tumblr_n3od02otx31tsrp81o1_500This is going to be a huge, huge, rant on the stigma surrounding mental health and how massively suckish it is. Ugh. Mental Health is that one issue my school never talks about (oh, along with the LGBTQ+ community, but that’s a whole different post, guys, don’t even get me started on that one) It’s just so frustrating that in my school there’s never been any conversations on mental health. I’m not even gonna bother trying to bring it up, either. Because once I tried to start up an assembly on bullying against LGBTQ+ youth and I got shut down faster than you can say “I’m gay as hell and I love it!”. I think it’d be safe to assume that an effort to start a conversation on mental health would be shut down in a similar way. I’ve been a first hand sufferer of depression, and self harm, and I know self harm isn’t a mental illness, but there’s stigma surrounding that too, so yay, added bonus! (-.-) I just wish that there was less of a stigma surrounding mental health in my society, because if I had been able to talk about my depression, things would’ve been completely different for me. Instead, I’m locking myself in the bathroom, breaking down and then pulling myself back together before getting the hell out of there and acting normal.

Depression is enough baggage to carry already. Bisexuality is hard enough to accept on its own. Self Harm is something I’m already beating myself up about. The fact that there’s so much stigma surrounding everything just makes my life harder than it needs to be. I’m 9840569_orignot ugly, society is. (I know, its an overused tumblr quote, but it’s actually true) I’ve been told by a friend to “just get over” my Depression, and what makes this burn particularly sting is that she’s actually a genuine friend whom I know only means the best for me- but
she’s got no clue what Depression is, not even in the slightest, and how am I supposed to blame her? she mean well, but we grew up in a society that shunned mental health issues as ‘not real issues’ that weren’t worth validation. I now live in a society where my self harm scars mean I’m crazy suicidal and a freak. I currently have to be so burningly conscious of my scars everywhere I go. I get it, I made mistakes, but the stigma surrounding those mistakes makes them less like a part of my past and more like a cancer foo my present, which is so fucking counter-productive, thanks a lot, stigma. And don’t even get me started on the people who are constantly romanticizing mental illness. You, yeah you, if you’re one of those people, hi, let’s sit down and have a conversation about how cute it is to have anxiety, or how tragically romantic it is to cut yourself, or how bad ass it is to be depressed, how anorexic that girl looks, I bet it must be soooooo thrilling, right? Because they’re not metal disorders anymore if you keep trivializing them and making them less of an issue than they actually are. And that is a huge problem, because when people who are actually suffering gather up the courage to cry for help, all they’ll get in response is “you’ve been looking at too much thinspo, go eat a sandwich” or “hush, it’s just teenager angst”. And jut like that, their experiences will be invalidates. There’s already so much stigma, and now you’re romanticizing something that never got proper widespread recognition in the first place.  I cannot just get over my Depression, and recovery from self harm is not as easy as counting to ten.

Some things just need to be said, and some screams for help just need to be heard. Living in a society which constantly invalidates experiences related to mental health goes against this. I remember one particularly terrifying night, I was up until 4 A.M. unable to sleep, ad I was tossing and turning and I felt as though the sky was inexplicably heave, collapsing into me. I felt as though I was breathing in liquid lead, as though my slightest movement was enough to send everything crashing down. I felt so low that I thought I hadn’t just hit rock bottom, I was rock bottom, and while words can’t fully articulate the emotional fatigue I felt that night, one word in particular comes to mind, every single time I think of that night, without fail- heavy. The night was unbearably, excruciatingly heavy, a weight of worlds unknown to me, a weight that greeted me like a malicious stranger, a sadistic opportunist. That was a night where I felt as though I needed to be heard, to be listened to, to be validated, because the inexplicable and unrelenting heaviness of my situation was one that I couldn’t possibly come out of. every single thought that plagues me that night was black, as though even my own mind had succumbed to madness and had devoted itself to my downfall. That is the type of unadulterated horror that I have to watch being romanticized, trivialized, and coldly dismissed. Stigma, don’t fuck with me.

Dear Whoever You Are, You’re Not Alone.


This Saturday has been a tough one for me, and today seemed kind of overwhelming, so I thought “hey, why not blog about it?” and well, here I am. Hey there blogosphere, nice to see you again. I’m feeling upset, and kind of just emotionally fatigued, so I shall now vent into the vast wide internet and remind myself (and whoever is reading this) that people get lonely a lot but just because we feel lonely doesn’t mean we’re alone. You, Me, Us? We’re never alone. Never. Just a heads up, this blog post is going to be me trying to be stronger than I actually am, and this blog post is me trying to be more positive than I could ever actually be as of now. 

I woke up this morning with that damn-I-don’t-wanna-get-outta-bed feeling that is all too familiar to those who are struggling with depression. You guys know what I’m talking about. Then I did something I’m ashamed of, I looked at thinspo, and I know I shouldn’t have and it made my day a lot worse. I feel almost ashamed to look at those thigh gaps and wish that I had them. I know, they’re not healthy nor are they a measure of beauty. All bodies are beautiful, and I feel like crap for even looking at thinspo and wanting to be thin. I remember looking desperately for my blade, only to remember that I lost it. I remember fumbling around for a kitchen knife, only to stop myself at the last minute. Gosh,today was messed up. I remember wishing I was straight, and as you can probably tell, today was one of those days where literally every little burning insecurity came back to haunt me. I regret looking for that knife, and I regret that if I had my blade I’d still be bleeding out instead of writing this post. I regret looking at that god awful thinspo, and gosh, do I regret wishing I was straight. What was I thinking? Seriously, what the actual eff was I even doing with my Saturday?!?! I won’t deny that being Bisexual has it’s own cons and that sometimes it’d be easier to just be straight, but I didn’t fight the uphill battle of accepting myself just to regret my own identity. I don’t ever want to regret my own identity. I don’t ever want to be ashamed of who I am. That being said, my scars are a part of who I am, right?  And I’m ashamed of them. But I’m more ashamed of how weak I was today, it’s left me feeling exhausted and disappointed in myself. But I’m only human, and humans are supposed to have bad days. Days where everything shoves itself up your ass. Days where everything seems to drown you. The day has turned into a night of drinking chamomile  tea and being so endlessly tired but unable to sleep. Gah. I hear you thinking- is this whole post just going to be a whiny teenager ranting? Nope. That would be unproductive, and I’ve had enough unproductivity (is that a word?) for one day.

So, to whoever you are reading this, YOU ARE NOT ALONE. I’m mainly writing this to feel less alone, yes, but I might as well feel less alone by talking to the internet and telling whoever is on the other surface of the screen that they’re not alone. Feeling alone sucks, feeling empty sucks, sometimes just existing sucks and you feel insignificant and like nobody actually gives a flying fuck about you. Yeah, I’ve been there. And I’m not alone in being there, thousands of others have hit rock bottom only to come out stronger than ever. You may be overwhelmed right now, but life is only throwing things at you because it has nobody else to pick on. You don’t get a say in what happens to you. You don’t get to choose whether or not you feel pain. So many of us feel alone in whatever battles we’re facing but we’re not. We’re not alone, we’re just lonely, all of us. I the suicide attempts, in the self harm, in the wishing I was straight, in the crying at 3 am, I’ve felt endlessly alone, isolated, a freak, but I’m not alone. To whoever is reading this, regardless of what battle you;’re facing, I can promise you that you are not alone at all, you just feel lonely, the way i do right now. And that’s okay, that’s part of going through the motions and you’ll live with it, survive with it, conquer it. Because we all have days where we fumble for our blades and feed our addictions. We all have bad days where we let our demons take over now and then. The bad days don’t define us. They won’t define us, because we all have them and we’re all human. The bad days, the tears, they make us human. They are part of recovery, and recovery is an uphill battle. I’m not happy with today, but today is one day out of the rest of my life and I can’t dwell on it at all. You may not have been happy with your day either, stranger, but you’re not alone and you won’t be alone ever. Trust me, somebody out there can relate to feeling like you’re drowning and nobody can save you (I know I can). I’m tired, this rant was borne out of frustration, but i feel like I had to put this out there.

To whoever is reading this: you are not alone.

Yours Truly, “That Freak Who Self Harms”.


~ Trigger Warning, Please Don’t Read If You’re Easily Triggered ~

At first glance, I get how I wouldn’t seem like the type of girl who sits down and thinks ‘damn, time to self mutilate’– after all, I’m decent with my studies and have a boyfriend and friends and a reasonably wide social circle, so why cut?
Gosh, if only it were that easy. I mean, I’ll be honest, I’d love to stop cutting and just completely recover. I’d love to look back on the day I lost my blade and have no regrets about it, but dang, I still wish I hadn’t lost it. Like, there’s a twisted part of me that kind of wants to own a blade collection and is jealous of the art student in my grade who own a full collection of shiny blades. I know, I’m not supposed to be thinking that way, but let’s just be honest. Read More

“Haven’t You Heard? Kisses Heal Scars“

mantra2If you clicked on this post expecting romantic drivel, well, you wouldn’t be entirely wrong, but you wouldn’t be entirely right either. Like so many things in life, your assumptions about this post aren’t wrong, but they aren’t right either. It’s the textbook cliched romance story about self harm that has tumblr drooling (no offence, but you & I both know what I’m talking about xD)

I’ve often been one to roll my eyes at cliches, especially ones about romances. Yes, there is magic enfolded within every kiss on the forehead, within every butterfly in your stomach. Read More