tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1724594058209899258.post4946789438641676510..comments2024-03-29T07:46:36.996-04:00Comments on EPBOT: Because We Are Better Than This, And They Were WrongJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11888187687405622408noreply@blogger.comBlogger184125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1724594058209899258.post-20957250751562874502017-03-01T09:30:43.161-05:002017-03-01T09:30:43.161-05:00To anyone that may stumble upon this, it's bee...To anyone that may stumble upon this, it's been over two years since I've self harmed. <br />I know I am strong and I can make it longer than this. We all can. *hugs*Zombie Edwardhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17437368075850908327noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1724594058209899258.post-11380437215849740942014-01-09T00:36:01.274-05:002014-01-09T00:36:01.274-05:00Just so you know, almost a year later, someone was...Just so you know, almost a year later, someone was touched by your comment and feels for you. Love from a stranger! (and never delegitimize your feelings, it doesn't have to be the hardest thing you've ever heard of to have been a hard thing)Lisahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05853919891646695053noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1724594058209899258.post-65919646479101337732013-09-02T03:38:30.505-04:002013-09-02T03:38:30.505-04:00I'm sharing this with my class tomorrow (I tea...I'm sharing this with my class tomorrow (I teach 9 and 10 year olds)... because while we're lucky, and there isn't any MAJOR bullying going on.. there's name calling, and there are things that go on that by themselves might not be punishable, or taken seriously.... this video has reminded me that EVERYTHING that can harm a child should be taken seriously. It's reminded me of why I became a teacher... because I was that child. I was the kind who had yellow dye water poured on her chair and called piss pants, I was the child who was held against a wall with a craft knife against her throat for not giving a christmas card to a boy that had teased her non stop for 3 years. I was a the girl who thought she had friends... who then ditched her a week before the end of the year and said 'we never liked you anyway'. I was the child who had her best friend dump her for the new, and more exciting girl from Egypt... I was the girl who was called Steamroller (ironic really, as I was a stick figure back then... and yet am not now.) I was the girl who had her reading glasses stolen and dropped out of the second floor windows more than once each semester.. I was the girl who was locked into the bathrooms.... and had kids blackmailing her for money and lunch.<br />Enough is enough.<br />I refuse to let the children I teach, the children I am supposed to be helping become model citizens... I refuse to let them become that child. Or the child that does those things to another human being. Chttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04596048813286667050noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1724594058209899258.post-72545841716499826252013-03-17T10:39:59.238-04:002013-03-17T10:39:59.238-04:00This is the most truthful interpretation of this d...This is the most truthful interpretation of this devastating cycle I have ever seen.<br />My problems started when I was about 7. I was neglected as a child because of my dad's addiction problems and my mom's need to enable him. He chose his alcohol and drugs, and she chose . . . him.<br />As an only child growing up in a household where you're expected to walk on eggshells to please someone else or just hide in your room and play by yourself, you come up with some messed coping skills. I used to slap myself and say ugly, cruel and completely untrue things to myself. I didn't start cutting until college. I dated a very narcissistic guy from senior year of high school for 10 YEARS who was just like my dad in the worst way possible: NEGLECTFUL.<br />Neglect is a very powerful form of abuse. You feel worse than garbage . . . you're not worth the attention of someone who supposed to love you?? That has a cataclysmic affect on a psyche. There is NO perfect, but I darn well tried over the years.<br />I started with light razor cuts on my legs, abdomen, upper arms (places where they could be hidden). If I was in a rage and the tsunami wave threatened to pull me under, I would bite myself, scratch myself, bang my head on walls -- anything to relieve the pressure. To feel something other that angst and self-hatred.<br />And then I decided to swallow a bunch of pills and put an end to the negative thoughts and feelings. I passed out in a stupor, but somehow my body powered through and I woke up the next morning. I have never cried so hard as that morning in the shower -- I was actually disappointed that it hadn't worked.<br /><br />I finally was able to stop cutting around the same time that I dumped the creep, and now I am in a very positive relationship. He is sweet, loving, caring and kind. And I constantly tell myself I am not deserving and have moments where I lash out at him for it. As good as he makes me feel, there's still a voice that tells me "he will leave you, he won't love you when he really sees how messed up you are . . . you're ugly, fat stupid" and so on. <br />But, he is a patient man, and he realizes that I have been broken. He is slowly showing me how to love myself as much as he loves me. To see all the wonderful things about me that he sees.<br />Broken is a good word to describe how one feels when self-harm seems like a good idea. Just broken from life, broken from people treating you like dirt . . .<br />But something that is broken can be mended. It takes a desire to just learn how to love yourself and have good people who care enough to see you get better.<br />I have good days, and then I have days when I am desperate to see a glimmer of blood and feel the automatic release. But, I am holding myself to a higher plane of thought, and when the taunting starts in my head, I just tell it to shut up because I have better things to do with my life than listen to a bunch of crap. :D <br />Life is a journey that we all take; some of us just have a bumpier road. But we all can make it, as long as we keep going. Big hugs to everyone who is posting!! <br />Love you Jen and everything you do in your blog, you're an inspiration to all of us in different ways: crafter, DIYer, nerdy girls (and boys), survivors . . . Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1724594058209899258.post-71627002244666773342013-03-07T21:37:14.536-05:002013-03-07T21:37:14.536-05:00I'm a cutter trying to stay on the wagon, and ...I'm a cutter trying to stay on the wagon, and I'm having one of those nights. I don't know which way it will turn out, but it sucks not having a support system.WWhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10197522956439691745noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1724594058209899258.post-21059642910473163062013-03-04T08:07:31.442-05:002013-03-04T08:07:31.442-05:00Thank you for sharing this.
I really hope that &q...Thank you for sharing this. <br />I really hope that "getting it off your chest" helped you a bit. As you can see by the mass of posts on this topic, you are not alone.<br />If you aren´t already I hope you consider counselling because dealing with everything you just posted on your own seems like the hardest thing to do.<br />I am sorry I am not finding the right words, english is not my first language and sometimes the right thing to say just escapes me...<br />*sending e-hugs your way*<br />Eva H.noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1724594058209899258.post-65186702524430482972013-03-03T10:01:24.747-05:002013-03-03T10:01:24.747-05:00I started cutting when I was eleven. It was always...I started cutting when I was eleven. It was always the best anti-anxiety thing ever. It was always my friend, and I could always count on it. For the longest time, I didn't even want to stop.<br /><br />I did all the promising stuff. I promised my therapist, I promised myself, and every time I screwed up. Every time. It was humiliating, but it was being back with my friend, and it worked, and I'm good at humiliation, so that was ok.<br /><br />I'm not sure when it changed. One day I just stopped promising. I gave myself permission, to fail, to be a mess, to not be ok some days. And then I started to stop. It's been a year, but I'm not counting the days anymore. I may screw up, but it doesn't mean the end of everything I've worked for, it just means a bad day, and that's ok.<br /><br />Be well, be compassionate. Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1724594058209899258.post-13119429301624069602013-03-01T15:07:20.260-05:002013-03-01T15:07:20.260-05:00ive struggled with self harm since i was eleven. M...ive struggled with self harm since i was eleven. My earliest memory of doing it, anyway, was when i was eleven... <br />Its a struggle daily, but ive been clean for a few months (before that it had been close to two years) I think what that kid is doing is a wonderful thing. It was hard throwing out my blades. Having that support will be helpful to many. <br />Thanks Jen, for posting that. Get the word out! Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1724594058209899258.post-69882264569272932013-03-01T03:55:16.876-05:002013-03-01T03:55:16.876-05:00Oh.my.gosh. Thank-you for bringing attention to py...Oh.my.gosh. Thank-you for bringing attention to pyroluria! I have never heard of it before. I have been teary reading the original post as well as the comments. I have struggled with depression for most of my life (I'm 35)...sometimes it's so mild I am barely aware of it, and other times it has been crushing. I was a cutter briefly in high school, and attempted suicide at 19. I did some therapy and was on anti-depressants for a few years.<br /><br />Fast forward to now...I'm blessed to have a happy marriage and 4 wonderful children. I still struggle against myself, but it's generally okay on a daily basis. However, my eldest child worries me. I see signs that he may be like me. I quickly read over the list of symptoms associated with pyroluria and I have nearly all of them! (My children seem to have many as well.)<br /><br />I am shocked that I haven't come across this information before as I read a lot about nutrition...but apparently I need to read a LOT more! Thank you!!!<br /><br />And thank you, Jen for doing what you do :)Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1724594058209899258.post-87920703898610813732013-03-01T01:39:09.036-05:002013-03-01T01:39:09.036-05:00Your story sounds so similar to mine...I also had ...Your story sounds so similar to mine...I also had undiagnosed Asperger's (diagnosed at 16) for much of my school life...I never cut, but I picked (and still pick, less now though) at my arms and face - any pimples, bumps, pulling hairs out...it was one of few ways I could deal with everything. I usually tell people that the bigger, more visible scars are from chickenpox...but most of them aren't. I made those marks.<br /><br />But you're right, it does get better. I can promise that too.<br /><br />This is part of my story here: https://www.facebook.com/notes/pauline-joy-chambers/youre-toodifferent-discrimination-against-people-with-invisible-disabilities-suc/10151200750907659Paulinehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01802517944209428397noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1724594058209899258.post-68566143121144868292013-02-27T18:45:49.114-05:002013-02-27T18:45:49.114-05:00Thank you. Not enough people know that it really i...Thank you. Not enough people know that it really is a sign of bigger problems. My sister started cutting in 9th grade, turns out she's pretty sure she's transgender and was having a hell of a time coping. I'm much older than her, when I found out I went behind my mom's back and took her to the dr. and got a referral to a therapist who specialized in SIV. My mom finally got on board but it was hard for her to deal with. My sister isn't cured and still has gender identity issues but now we can talk about it. I love her and would take her pain away if I could.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1724594058209899258.post-68172880503153877542013-02-26T09:46:36.211-05:002013-02-26T09:46:36.211-05:00Another wonderful open discussion on these issues....Another wonderful open discussion on these issues. Thanks Jen, we all need this so badly. Some time back in the 1970's I was watching the Maude show and a character was diagnosed with Manic/Depressive disorder. I thought that is exactly what I feel. (Manic/Depressive disorder is now called bipolar. In my case, I always thought M/D was a more acurrate description. High and low swings of epic propotions) I'm 52 years old, next week I reach my 5 year anniversary at work. This is the longest I have ever held down a job in my life. Do I feel great about it? Nope, in the last year I have come to realization that a lot of the things I thought about myself were all wrong. My self harming is binge eating and sabotaging myself at work. My medications are helping. I keep plugging along. My husband is my advocate. He makes sure I get the medical help I need when I can't see it for myself. I try to avoid those things I know are triggers for stuffing 3 stale donuts down my throat because I feel like I can't help it. I actually made a female friend for the first time in 30 years and we're going to a conference this weekend to study about a mutual interest. So, after all this time, I realize that the only thing I can do is slow down, take my time, and enjoy myself. Thanks again Jen! Love you!Margaretnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1724594058209899258.post-17792228705572618562013-02-25T18:42:37.993-05:002013-02-25T18:42:37.993-05:00I watched this video today and burst into tears at...I watched this video today and burst into tears at 1:40. I cried another 3 times today, all while at work (thankfully I was by myself all day). Carmen8180https://www.blogger.com/profile/18129860680178625567noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1724594058209899258.post-85540019097068991142013-02-25T15:48:25.080-05:002013-02-25T15:48:25.080-05:00I have used food in the same way. Mostly sugar to...I have used food in the same way. Mostly sugar to the point of addiction. I'm 20 days sugar free right now and I've been away from chips and popcorn for almost two weeks. I feel your pain, I hope you can pull out of it. I have been blogging my struggle with sugar for a couple of years, I don't know if it will help, but it might at least make you laugh. http://sweethealthcoaching.blogspot.com/Tarahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08368607709321441032noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1724594058209899258.post-8120842397477161542013-02-25T15:41:31.787-05:002013-02-25T15:41:31.787-05:00I have never self-harmed and my heart breaks for t...I have never self-harmed and my heart breaks for those who do. I have read some of the comments here and in my heart I am here for each and every one of you. Know that there are people out here who don't understand but don't judge and would love to give you hugs and take your pain away.Tarahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08368607709321441032noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1724594058209899258.post-21482313071480493342013-02-25T15:18:31.422-05:002013-02-25T15:18:31.422-05:00Sometimes those zany crazy funny places in our hea...Sometimes those zany crazy funny places in our head comes from a place that laughs so we can't cry. There is so much pressure on so many of us. We put that pressure on our children too. It's more than we can handle at times. There is a serious lack of support for kids in schools who feel this pressure. I can say that from first-hand experience. We try to educate their mind while we ignore their emotional intelligence. Something has to give. Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06539450247631193231noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1724594058209899258.post-80991143982415981242013-02-25T13:36:42.463-05:002013-02-25T13:36:42.463-05:00You are so amazing and talented that it is hard fo...You are so amazing and talented that it is hard for me to understand. You have the ability to create things of beauty, the ability to make me laugh, and the depth of emotion to make me cry. You are amazing. <br /><br />I wasn't the most picked upon kid at school, but I was an easy target. I hung out solo with my animals and to this day cherish their unconditional love. And then I lost weight and grew boobs, I now had men's attention but didn't believe I could be loved and let myself be used instead.<br /><br />Now, I still have my demons but I have a job in which I am challenged and many coping methods (some unhealthy) to make it from day to day. I developed a love for cooking, which ruined my figure, but the joy I have feeding people more than makes up for it. I think feeding people is a safe way for me to show love. I have a husband who has become my best friend. Though it wasn't easy and I fought against it time and time again.<br /><br />When I stopped fighting it and just gave trust a chance, I became a much stronger person that didn't have to worry about making it alone. I was now strong enough to make it alone, if it ever happened.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1724594058209899258.post-7242219607056153922013-02-25T04:24:34.941-05:002013-02-25T04:24:34.941-05:00I am bawling. I still hate hate HATE all those ki...I am bawling. I still hate hate HATE all those kids to this day, almost as much as I hate me in the mirror, and I haven't been able to successfully let go of any of it. I'll keep trying.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1724594058209899258.post-20755358632020039692013-02-25T01:01:39.590-05:002013-02-25T01:01:39.590-05:00I was seven when I first cut. The thing is, by tha...I was seven when I first cut. The thing is, by that time I knew exactly what I was doing was wrong but so was everything. So a seven year old made herself bleed, then mustered up some crocodile tears and a shoddy story about what happened, because she didn't want questions she couldn't answer. I know where it all started for me. I'm an explosion of imbalanced chemicals shaken, not stirred with an abusive mother. Not that I can blame her, not at all. My mother had an abusive mother, only her mother was acid tongue and scathing belittlement, while mine was over dependency and emotional imbalance. My mother turned to Jesus and her little daughter, who she thought could break the curse of pain. So I spent my days being crammed with religion and being told not to trust anyone but my mother, and to a much lesser extent my father and brother. And so I grew up stunted for all my physical height. I could never relate to my classmates, and I felt so inadequate of being my mother's only friend at home. So something inside me broke.<br />I am 21 now, I have been self-harm free for 12 months, a personal best. I stopped seeing therapists, because every single one made me feel like an idiot making things up for attention. I went off of my psych meds. And I'm the most stable I have been in my life. I have an amazing boyfriend, and while he doesn't understand, he loves me enough to help me work through this. He understands I'm trying, that I'm fighting the biggest battle of my life, and that in all honesty, its going to be a lifelong adventure. I moved away from my parents so I could get a handle on me. I do the things I need to survive and fight another day.<br /><br />A while back I wrote a piece explaining to the best of my ability what depression anxiety mean to me. It's called "Sometimes".<br /><br />Sometimes, when I walk into a room, I feel like immediately running straight the back out of it. Sometimes, when I have to look people in the eye, my brain runs out of there and I function on automatic until I can handle it. Sometimes, when I call people, I immediately hang up after I dial, so I don’t actually have to interact. Sometimes, I rehearse every minutiae of the upcoming day, so I know I am prepared for any situation. Sometimes, getting out of bed is too much and I just cry.<br /><br />But sometimes, I can fight through that. Sometimes, I can have real conversations with people looking them in the eye. Sometimes, I can say, do, BE whoever or whatever pops into my head the moment it does. Sometimes getting out of bed is a treat.<br />Sometimes I lumber along. Sometimes I get by because I have to. Sometimes its only the fear of failing that gets me moving.<br /><br />Sometimes, life is ok. Sometimes, I feel fair. Sometimes things could be better, but I can see that they have been so exponentially worse and I’m ok.<br />Sometimes, everything is ok.<br /><br />Sometimes, everything hurts.<br /><br />Sometimes, the pain is what gets me through.<br /><br />I live my life in relation to my depression and my anxiety, real maladies that have done their damnedest to ruin me.<br /><br />I have cut, I have taken more pills than any sane person should. I have burned. I have deprived myself of all nourishment. I have gorged myself beyond gluttony. I have scoured my body, trying to wash away who I am. I have bruised myself. I pulled hair. I have put myself in emotionally abusive relationships because I wasn't worth the time of a decent person, and that mistreatment felt so right.<br /><br />I have treated my wounds. I have treated myself to something to just make me happy. I have entrusted my secrets to good friends. I have made an impact on decent people. I have filled my life with beauty. I have worked hard and been satisfied with the way I behaved.<br /><br />I have gotten myself help. I have seen therapists. I have thrown away my knives, my lighters, cut myself off from dealers, broken up with hurtful people.<br /><br />In essence, I have lived and I still live. I am not ok. I never will be. Sometimes that’s ok, sometimes, it’s not. As long as there are still sometimes though, life is still worth living.Julie the Nerdhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05308357836054056308noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1724594058209899258.post-54492690878392684712013-02-24T21:42:24.671-05:002013-02-24T21:42:24.671-05:00Thank you Jan - the words are beautifully written....Thank you Jan - the words are beautifully written. Your argument above is the same one I use to explain suicidal thoughts when someone says "How could he/she be so selfish?" If you've never felt suicidal or wanted to self-harm, you should feel very blessed indeed that you can not fathom what it must be like inside that person's head. It is truly awful.Bridgethttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12678451638947311290noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1724594058209899258.post-21190031101326089502013-02-24T18:55:11.548-05:002013-02-24T18:55:11.548-05:00I have long been a follower of Jenny's blog be...I have long been a follower of Jenny's blog because a dear friend shared some of the bat crap crazy funny that she comes up with in the wonderfuly zany places in her mind. But as I read more I learned more. Like her I have a serious anxiety disorder. It prevents me from holding down a job, I can still drive, but I won't tackle city driving, except on 'safe routes' to a few places. Routes I know well, with a minimum of lane changes, and generally a lot of detours through quiet neighborhoods because the more direct route is too busy. Perhaps, I am fortunate. I've never had the urge to hurt myself, though I have had the urge to kill myself, and only the voice whispering in the back of my head that it would make my mama sad stopped me, because that was the one thing more frightening to me then the pain itself. I'm 'better' now. Or rather I am diagnosed and undergoing treatment that helps. Still, I am crying as I write this. I want to say "thank you" to you and to Jenny and all the other people out there in the internet that share of their own pain, their own dark places, and let us all know we are not the only one, we are not the only person who feels this way, and there are places we can go, things we can see and cling to in the dark night. And as Jenny says so often and so well, Depression Lies.<br />God blessAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1724594058209899258.post-58037877694042351932013-02-24T18:31:49.092-05:002013-02-24T18:31:49.092-05:00Thank you for posting this.Thank you for posting this.Nathttps://www.blogger.com/profile/18417843741872514600noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1724594058209899258.post-14494679724090290062013-02-24T17:08:25.770-05:002013-02-24T17:08:25.770-05:00i'm currently in college, and dealing with my ...i'm currently in college, and dealing with my most intense depressive episode in six years (i have been diagnosed for ten). i fell back into self-harm when this episode started, but have tried to give it up for lent. this post honestly could not have come at a better time for me, and i thank you wholeheartedly.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1724594058209899258.post-25321438309634928382013-02-24T16:58:29.946-05:002013-02-24T16:58:29.946-05:00Maybe you need to talk to someone and find more su...Maybe you need to talk to someone and find more suitable footing? During my panic attacks I have found that you have to stop the spiraled thinking. One thought leads to another and then to another and the thoughts become more and more scary and more and more dark. What I did (and still do) is lie on the bathroom floor and stare up at the light fixture and just focus on that. Try digging into a stress ball or punching a pillow or something that takes the focus away from harming yourself. Amynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1724594058209899258.post-6428018022710213902013-02-24T16:53:44.197-05:002013-02-24T16:53:44.197-05:00I was in quite terrible shape when I was 16 years ...I was in quite terrible shape when I was 16 years old. I had terrible depression and anxiety which led me to self harm, emotional and physical, I attempted suicide. I tried to overdose on pills and had resigned my self to die. Honestly, I became so scared I sought help and was rushed into the emergency room. The weirdness of it was that when they pumped my stomach, they couldn't find nearly the number of pills I had taken, and the doctors had told me I would most likely experience heart, liver, or kidney failure. <br /><br />I can't even believe that was me. I am 27 now, bright and beautiful and happy and full of life. It was a miracle, I experienced no ill side effects and all my organs are fine. I went through lots of therapy to get where I am, and I still have anxiety which I have learned to deal with and control. I still have depression but am on a good medication and have mellowed out considerably as I have aged. I am so proud to say that I am living on my own and supporting myself and have just got hired at my dream job! <br /><br />When I think of all the people who self harm- physically or emotionally- all I have to say is stop. Stop just for a moment and think. You are not alone, you are not a lost cause, your life does not need to end. If you need help- GET help. The hardest part is to ASK for help but please do it if you think you need it. Always remember to keep walking- always keep going. Every single day- move forward and don't stop. You will go through the bad days and they will pass- they have to- time constantly moves and life will always balance out so things may be bad now but they will be better later. <br /><br />The first part has been hard for me to write, my attempted suicide has always been a dark, dirty secret that I have held for many years, but I am tired of de-valuing myself because of a mistake, and that mistake no longer defines me. To all of you who are going through similar times, or very difficult times, I wish you all the best and will send good thoughts and happiness your way. <br /><br />In the words of Dori. "Just keep swimming!" Amynoreply@blogger.com