2009-01-13 - 7:28 p.m.
Jack's Self Violent Thoughts
Sometimes I have these thoughts.
Sometimes for a second, something in the back of my head says something to me. Something disturbing in passing.
It is almost as if Tyler passed unseen behind me and whispered something.
I am Jack's Self Violent Impulses.
For a second I am almost tempted.
That sick momentary temptation is the most disturbing part.
The thought that for a moment, I was closer to stepping over some unspoken boundary. The funny thing about those boundaries is that all you have to is step over them, but somehow you can't. You just can't.
It would be as easy as stepping across a painted line on the ground.
But you can't.
Yeah, you can. Something whispers.
Go ahead, try.
Take that stapler. Open it. Hold it unhinged. Now staple yourself in the arm. Give the top a good pound with the side of your fist. Like you are trying to staple a thick stack of papers.
I see myself holding the stapler. Giving it a good pound forcing a staple into the top of my arm.
Receiving the staple was nothing compared to what removing it is going to feel like. That is the fun part. Making yourself tear yourself apart to get it out.
I didn't even do anything, and I am rubbing the spot just thinking about it.
I walk away quickly trying to forget I ever said that.
But every time I see that stapler, I know the thought is going to cross my mind for a while.
I admit I have thought about using the stapler in my computer desk.
Thought about it in that disturbed impulse way.
These are the thoughts I have at work and sometimes they follow me home.
The next night at work, something told me to hold my hand under the tea spigot on the coffee maker and pour boiling water over it.
I protectively held my hand, rubbing it.
As I protected it from something I was not even going to do, I wondered desperately, where do thoughts come from?
Why do I do this to myself?
For months I used to have these thoughts almost every day. This was years ago. Years before therapy. This was about the time I stopped writing.
I still can't say why I did.
But I still hate myself for it. I can not say I have ever really come back. Not the way I was before. I have been trying to restablish myself here ever since.
Suddenly I was just this angry, tormented, self violent person.
Suddenly I was ashamed of myself. And hated myself like I never had before in my life.
I hated myself too much to write. I hated myself for needing to write and was sure everyone else hated hearing it.
It was like I went for my own throat. I hit myself where it hurt.
Every day I was tearing myself apart in silence.
Berating myself.
Something in me was trying to break me. Something in me wanted me dead.
It was one the most fucked up things I have ever done to myself.
I think I wanted to be dead.
Every day my head was full of these compulsive repeating phrases telling me to kill myself.
This went on for maybe a year. Maybe longer.
I am not sure when it stopped.
Until I was on medication for a while, they used to come back to visit me. One day I would just wake up and they would be back. One day a week or two later I would wake up and they would be gone.
I probably still have these thoughts once or twice day.
I have told my therapist all of this. She says that I just need to fight them. I need to counter them. I need to be nicer to myself.
Easier said than done.
She seemed more disturbed by the physical nature of my more recent impulses.
She said that they can seem like they are talking to you. But you have to remember they are you. The more you listen to them, the more you start to slip into psychosis.
And that started me thinking.
And I began coming to a slow realization that I might be trying to save myself.
That Tyler is sticking his fingers through some hole in my medication fence, smiling and saying "I'm busting you out of here."
Then It Was Time For Jack To Shut Up - 2009-02-26
Jack Says Good Bye To A Friend - 2009-01-22
Jack Is Human Or Just Weak - 2009-01-22
Tyler Would Love To Take The World Off My Shoulders - 2009-01-16
