A long time ago (back when I could still call myself "young"), I would harm myself physically as punishment for whatever sins I felt I committed that day. I knew perfectly well that being caught doing such a thing would result in confinement of some kind, so I started small and escalated slowly until I was just on the threshold of what would "show." My favorite techniques were nothing unusual, but they're typical because they're effective: I would scrape my skin with the end of a straightened paperclip, raising a significant welt (sometimes for days), but not drawing blood and thus drawing attention. I would write out words in big, block letters. "Idiot," "Asshole," and pretty much a litany of perceived sins. The other tactic was to punch brick walls until I couldn't feel my fingers. It takes a little skill, if you have any strength, to avoid breaking bones or dislocating joints (and therefore being noticed), but it's not rocket science. The real problem was finding a brick wall secluded enough where no one would notice.
For those that want confusion, I'll give you some: I have never allowed, and never will allow, anyone else to judge me and issue punishment. Believe it or not, I'm completely serious when I say, "I'm the only one good enough to punish me." If you can figure that out, I'll gladly pay you, 'cause you'd be a step ahead of any therapist I've had . . .
Anyway, there came a point in time when I decided that behavior was "too crazy." It wasn't a specific moment, it was more a slow decline in the number of incidents as every time I tried it I would announce, "If you do this, it'll prove you're crazy." Never mind how far gone my sanity really was at that point, I simply believed I was perfectly rational as long as I could refrain from doing what "crazy people" did.
Old habits die hard, though, and I got more creative than I realized in replacing one form of punishment with another. I didn't even know I was doing it until I had an epiphany this morning (I assure you, realizing I was capable of this nonsense while riding to work made for a shitty day at the office).
This is the first time I've been afraid to tell the truth in this diary. I've re-written this sentence four times, and finally decided explaining WHY it is difficult is irrelevant. I'm simply going to confess through the difficulty . . .
If hurting yourself as a form of punishment is "wrong," but feel the need to be punished, well . . . it's a simple matter to do things that get others to punish you, or do things that you KNOW will result in your feeling very, very punished.
And you can do all of this without even intending to.
Pardon me, for digressing, but Avril Levigne (or however she spells her name) is on TV. I used to have a bit of a crush on her, but . . . man, she's really just a bubble-head in interviews, and that's a turn-off. I still think she has some talent, but is that enough? I guess I'll stick to crushing on Maria Bamford for a while . . .
Anyway, let me explain:
If I have an ill-defined reason to punish myself (and I ALWAYS do), I'll do something to CAUSE punishment.
Don't pay the rent. Or maybe certain bills. I assure you that sooner or later you'll be punished. The key to this behavior is that it has to seem accidental in my mind. It's not difficult, as long I keep telling myself I'll pay it when I get my next paycheck. The downside is that I have to keep spending what little money I have so that I cannot AFFORD to until the next paycheck. Never mind how many people I fuck over and genuinely LIE to ("Of COURSE I'll pay you next week!" "What do you mean, the check bounced?"), the real trick is lying to myself. If I was doing it intentionally, it would be crazy, right?
Has someone been kind to me, shown me respect I damn well know I don't deserve? Well, by golly, I'm VERY good at reading people, and I'll find some way to prove to them I'm not worthy (without, mind you, doing anything cruel). This, too, leads to punishment. The downside, of course, is that I crave attention and love, and instead wind up playing some weird push-me / pull-me game. Still unintentional, but perhaps the shittiest thing I've ever admitted to in this diary. Love me, as long as you hate me, too (It gets easier with practice).
In fact, if ANYTHING needs to be done by me, I'll try to avoid doing it as long as possible. Most responsibilities have built-in consequences for failure to do them, and (since I'm fuckin' useless in my mind) I may as well not try, anyway. The downside is pretty much that most responsibilities I'm faced with involve, well, the jobs that barely pay the bills I rarely pay. Fuck up those responsibilities, and I'm not likely to have ANY sort of job for very long. It is a bit like actually cutting myself, in that I have to make sure to do it JUST enough to get into trouble, but not enough to cause permanent, visible damage.
To be blunt, I just got caught not paying my rent. Now, I have to figure out where to come up with a BIG chunk of money. Am I feeling punished, yet? Now, I have a job, and I was perfectly capable of watching my spending and paying the rent on time. I'm actually better, emotionally, than I have been in QUITE some time. I was even consciously aware, genuinely for the first time, that I was fucking myself over the entire time this debt grew (and that finally led to this epiphany I had). It wasn't enough THIS time, but by golly I've finally learned from this shit, and with a LOT of fuckin' effort this just may be the LAST time . . .
Fuckin' idiot. I should return to harming myself. That doesn't fuck over my roommates, who were nothing but nice to me.
This isn't the first time I've been caught. This is just the first time I want to do this without juggling things so that I fuck someone else over in the future, and, therefore, get punished again.
The nice thing about my job is that I have a lot of time to think about things that aren't my job. How I'm going to come up with the money is beyond my calculating abilities (although I figured out how to minimize what I need to come up with). I did, however, also figure out what I want to do.
I want a parole-officer. I want someone so far up into my business that I find it impossible to pull the big shit ever again. Did a bill come in the mail? Sit me down and watch my sorry ass write the check AND mail it. Rent due? Sit my ass down and watch me write the check AND mail it. "Scott, how was work today? Did you try to fuck yourself over subtly? Give me a fuckin' essay."
Yes, that's right: I need the "Fucked-in-the-head-assholes Anonymous" equivalent of an Alcoholics Anonymous sponsor. I need someone who will look me in the eye and expect results, not claims of innocence.
I'm not looking for volunteers. That's what I pay a therapist for, after all (although I didn't know that, either, until I'd thought this through). I'm just putting it down in words so that I can look at it.
Ever notice how things don't seem real until they're written down? Or maybe that's just me . . .
Peace, kats and kittens. Don't hate me because I'm beautiful.