Running v Cutting

I’m still in bed. I have a cup of tea and I’m really cosy. Im also fighting a terrible battle in my head.
I have an overwhelming urge to hurt myself. The image in my brain is of cutting my wrists. Not badly. Just enough to hurt. I don’t want to have to go to hospital or anything. I definitely don’t want any attention for it. No! I just want to hurt myself.

However, I also feel the urge to run. To feel my muscles pushing me along and my breath filling my lungs and then emptying. To feel my heart pounding and my body going ouch! Whilst my brain encourages go on! You can do this! You are free!

A dialectic? Maybe.

So run it is.

Here’s the thing though: everyone sees the run. It is praised and noted in my file as further proof of how well I’m doing. No one sees that I could have just as easily cut my wrist. No one is bothered because I didn’t slit my wrist and that doesn’t feel quite right. It’s like I’m choosing the right thing (which is good) but at the same time making it easier to be dismissed by the healthcare professionals. But I still want to slit my wrists. But no one cares.

I can’t figure it out really. 

Now I’m off out for a run. 

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