Counting Cuts – How Many Can I Do?

Yeah, whatever mental illness I am suffering from, it is definitely getting worse again! Today I decided I would cut myself 49 times, one for each day I have been on this medication that is doing absolutely nothing for me. My suicidal thoughts are on the way back up after I thought the medication was making them go down, my cutting is also on the way back up and I’m still feeling as sad and as isolated as ever. As someone who is sitting real exams in a few weeks, this could not have come at a worse time. So today, what happened?

I went to counselling today. I decided I would give my counsellor the silent treatment. This was the first time I had seen them in 4 weeks (they didn’t want to see me sooner), and also the first time I had seen them after receiving the strange letter. I hate them. I said to my friend earlier in the day that I wouldn’t mind if my counsellor jumped off a cliff, obviously I don’t mean that, I think I let my emotions get the better of me as I would never want anyone to commit suicide, but I think that shows how much I hate them. I didn’t want to talk to them and I wanted them to know it. I want my new counsellor to come as soon as possible.

My cuts tally...

My cuts tally…

My counsellor just made me feel worse, while sitting in that room listening to them try to get an answer out of me I knew I was going to go home and cut. I wasn’t planning to do anything like I did but I could see something coming. I got home after counselling and was normal for a few hours… or normal for me. I went to my room and cried for a bit then played a game on my phone. I haven’t been able to concentrate on exam revision very well for a while so it is not surprising that I didn’t get any done. But after I had dinner it went downhill. I decided that I had to do one cut for every day this new medication had failed me, so I checked out the calendar and counted how many days I had been taking it. 1, 2, 3… 47, 48, 49! 49 days of failed medication! I have been on my medication for 7 weeks and I don’t feel worse. I guess I deserve these 49 cuts.

I did two cuts and thought I wasn’t going to reach 49. I stopped for about 5 minutes. However, I am someone who doesn’t give up easily so I kept going. I reached 7 cuts quite early on before realising I shouldn’t be doing a tally of my cuts, let alone attempt to reach 49 cuts. I distracted myself with my phone again but I was constantly feeling sadder every minute as I thought about how my week had gone so far. I don’t know how but I made it to 10 cuts while still on my phone. Distracting myself was clearly not working. 12. 15. 18. 20. I had got to 20 cuts when I decided enough was enough.

Click here to read about my self-harm record from a few months ago, which has been broken a lot since.

I attempted to do some revision but it failed. I did two more cuts which takes my total to 22. I still have 3 hours left in the day and I have no idea what I will do. I don’t know whether to stop, I don’t know whether to try to reach 49 cuts. I am confused.

How To Distract Yourself From Self-Harm – The 100 Method List

Having seen so many lists of self-harm distractions I set myself the task of thinking of 100 different ways to distract myself from cutting. All of the methods had to be something I could just get up and do straight away, and they had to be realistic… which means no trips to the moon, sadly! I told myself I wouldn’t look at any other lists while I do this, so everything on this list is either thought of as I type or from my memory of methods I’ve read in the past. This list could be used as a “to do when bored” list but I hope you find something on here to stop yourself from self-harming. If one doesn’t work you have another 99 to try.

1) Scream as loud as you can
2) Call a friend
3) Put ice on your skin
4) Cry
5) Go for a walk
6) Play a video game
7) Write a letter to your future self
8) Revise for your exams
9) Play loud music and dance
10) Watch TV

Click here for 4 in-depth methods of combatting self-harm.

SpanishNotes11) Learn some new words in a foreign language
12) Tear up a newspaper
13) Eat some fruit
14) Meditate
15) Draw on your skin with red marker
16) Have bath or shower
17) Yoga
18) Fly a kite
19) Go for a drive
20) Bake a cake

21) Eat chocolate
22) Feed ducks at the park
23) Debate with yourself
24) Take some photos
25) Create a new blog
26) Finger paint
27) Punch a cushion or pillow
28) Ask yourself “Why do I want to self-harm?”
29) Text a friend
30) Write a letter to a friend

Thinking of more than self-harm? How to tell someone you are suicidal.

Poem31) Make a wish list
32) Kick a football against a wall
33) Play with a dog at the park
34) Write a poem
35) Go for a run
36) Watch a movie
37) Find your pet and hug them
38) Snap a rubber band on your wrist
39) Read a book
40) Sleep

41) Think about what you will do tomorrow
42) Play the guitar or piano (badly)
43) Play catch
44) Do 10 push-ups
45) Count to 100
46) Write a short story
47) Make sock puppets
48) Discover a new Youtube channel
49) Write messages on sticky notes, and stick them all over your room
50) Learn to moonwalk

Hip hop songs related to mental illness, or to make you feel better.

CastleDrawing51) Do 10 sit-ups
52) Set yourself a 5 minute time limit for not self-harming
53) Doodle
54) Count insects in your garden
55) Reorganise furniture
56) Throw out or swap old clothes
57) Go and get some coffee
58) Call a helpline
59) Find a random item under your bed
60) Clean your room

61) Think about your dream holiday
62) Type the alphabet on your keyboard
63) Learn to program on the computer – and make something
64) Memorise a famous poem
65) Origami
66) Uninstall old phone apps
67) Listen to a new genre of music
68) Unravel string, and ravel it back up
69) Tell some jokes
70) Daydream

Seven Self-Harm Myths Busted!

Coins71) Do 10 star jumps
72) Count how many coins you have
73) Learn how to start a fire
74) Do an impression of a celebrity
75) Start your family tree
76) Buy a flower for a random person on the street
77) Cut coupons out of a newspaper/magazine
78) Squeeze a stress ball
79) Draw a self portrait
80) Write a list of your achievements

81) Write a bucket list
82) Read an old diary/blog entry
83) Create a memory box
84) Hug yourself
85) Complete a Sudoku
86) Play solitaire
87) Stare at the sky
88) Do some gardening
89) Ask yourself “Do I want scars in the future?”
90) Stretch

Click here for the first part of the “Unusual Methods to Combat Self-Harm Series”.

91) Forgive someone
92) Throw away your self-harm tools
93) Learn about a foreign culture
94) Complete a crossword
95) Play a board game with someone
96) Write 5 reasons why Depressionless is your favourite blogger
97) Make a cup of tea
98) Jump on your bed
99) Smile
100) Celebrate

Honestly, I wrote this list by myself. I’m pretty tired because this took a very long time, at the end you can tell I was running out of ideas (although, smiling will make you feel better). I hope you have found something to do the next time you want to self-harm. What is your favourite method for distracting yourself? Which methods have you found work best? Like always, my amazing readers, share below!

How To Self-Harm

If you are going to self-harm you should at least know how to do it properly, make sure you read the whole post before attempting so you know exactly how to self-harm, as if you attempt it incorrectly you might suffer fatal consequences. What will you need? The interesting thing about self-harming is that you don’t even need anything but this post will focus on cutting so anything sharp will do. We will refer to your tool of choice as a knife throughout the post for simplicity.

So your first cut… it is often the hardest. You are not how deep to cut, how many cuts to do or how hard to press. You will not be used to the pain of cutting and as you draw the knife across your skin it will feel like agony. Afterwards you will probably do a few softer cuts to make yourself feel better.

If gets easier though, and you still think you can control yourself. Each session the cuts get deeper and you find it easier to draw blood. The cuts heal but turn into scars. When you have enough scars on your forearm you start to go up the rest of your arm, and then onto the legs and stomach. Every part of your body that you are able to cover up will be covered with scars.

And you will cover them up. You will hide your cuts and scars from everyone you love. You can still wear t-shirts, but you must wear a jumper or jacket over it so that your arms are not on show. When summer comes you worry about what to wear so you either wear long-sleeve shirts in the blazing heat or you stay inside, which leads to more cutting.

At this point you are addicted to cutting. You have already avoided your friends in the summer due to your cuts, but now you begin to skip lessons at school or college just so you can cut some more. You’ll hide in the toilets and watch the blood trickle down your arms as your education slips between your fingers. Your addiction causes you to get bad grades in your next test, but you don’t worry because you will always have your knife with you to comfort you during these times.

What was once one cut turns into ten cuts, then twenty cuts, then thirty, then a hundred. You are out of control. If you are not thinking about cutting it is probably because you are cutting. You no longer feel normal, you feel like a machine programmed to inflict harm onto itself. You battle against your mind daily, you try to stop cutting but it is no use. Cutting has taken over, you see no way of escaping. You will read books about self-harming and look for miracles online to help you stop but it is no use.

You now carry your knife with you wherever you go. Do you have 5 minutes before next lesson? Cut. Are your friends not looking for a few minutes? Cut. Have your parents left you in the car? Cut. Every opportunity you have will turn into a cutting session. On the rare occasions you cannot use your knife you will look for other objects to cut yourself with. Needles, compasses, paperclips. You can use everything. Cutting does not hurt as much as it used to.

You forget what days were like before you started cutting, you wonder how you managed. You are alone in your own little world of cutting, you cannot seem to find anyone else who cuts without revealing your own secret. Your body is slowly being destroyed, you enjoy it while at the same time hate it. You don’t even own your body, cutting does. Cutting is in your work, your dreams and in signs on the street. Imagine your worst nightmare has come to life, but is in the form of cutting. You wish you had never started, you wish you could turn back the clock and tell yourself not to cut. I wish that too, but then I started cutting and now it is too late.

So you want to self-harm? I’ll tell you exactly how to self-harm. Put the knife down and walk away. That’s the only way you can succeed. That’s the only way you can beat the devil.

The CAMHS Crisis: My Counsellor Killed Me

Well, it’s me again, and I’ve just got back from my CAMHS counsellor who I am now certain is trying to kill me. When you say you have a plan to kill yourself shortly after attempting an overdose, you should expect some help. Well… not if you have my counsellor. I’ve heard countless stories about this before but I thought maybe CAMHS could help me, at least they have now shown me their true colours.

You will notice that as I write this the drugs from my overdose have probably left my system since I am pumped with adrenaline, ready to complain about how CAMHS, run by the NHS who is owned by the government, doesn’t want to help me and is essentially leaving me to die.

Prior to my meeting today they had been informed by my college counsellor that I had taken an overdose on Saturday night. I’m still alive if you are wondering (seriously, you should have guessed) and I was starting to feel a little bit better until I saw CAMHS. They also know that I actively self-harm, and that I am currently receiving very little help. I get help from my GP who I see once a week but they are only their to listen to me. I get help from the college counsellor, who is someone who will actually listen to me. CAMHS also know that I am not very happy with them, since they told me that they could not help me with my depression that they haven’t diagnosed yet (the GP believes I have it though).

The meeting started off with talking about my overdose. I wasn’t exactly sure what they wanted me to tell them. They already know what I took, when I took it and what happened afterwards regarding college and the NHS. The only information I could give them was that I told my friend after the overdose happened, and that they told me to go to see a doctor. I didn’t see a doctor, CAMHS did not really care why. CAMHS were not that interested in why I overdosed but I believe they asked me once, possibly twice. They were very concerned about why I told that particular friend. Do they believe I am a bad person for not telling my other friends? Do I have a secret illegal drug deal with this friend and I must tell them I might die, which means they don’t get their regular fix? I wouldn’t be surprised if that is what CAMHS believed. Anyway, I gave them some information added onto what they already know. You can’t say I’m not communicating.

Next they gave me a questionnaire to complete, their were over 100 questions on it. For each question I had to answer with “Never”, “Sometimes”, “Often” or “Always”. Only a few questions were yes or no. Pretty simple, and it should be obvious in some cases whether the person answering will need help. I’ll show you some of my answers to the questions.

Do you self-harm?
Yes
I wish I were dead.
Often
I feel no one loves me.
Often
Do you have a plan to kill yourself?
Yes

Now if someone came up to me and said they regularly cut themselves, they have no one that loves them, that they wish they were dead and had a plan to do it I would be extremely concerned about them, and would try to give them all the help I could get. If I also knew about their recent attempt to overdose I would be in tears. Apparently CAMHS don’t care though, as you’ll see through the rest of the post. I also want to note that I don’t actually have another plan yet but I’m thinking, I do still have my rope from ages ago.

So after this questionnaire they decided they were going to pass me onto their supervisor. I’m guessing they didn’t know what to do with me (I think they are in training still). I small part of my mind makes me think they can’t be bothered to deal with me, but while I’m thinking straight I’ll say that probably isn’t the case. I wouldn’t be surprised though it they couldn’t be bothered. They sent me back to the waiting area with my mum while the counsellor and supervisor talked.

A short while of waiting and I’m being led into a room with both the counsellor and supervisor. The supervisor is now pretending they know everything about my life, claiming that I am embarrassed to talk about whatever I wont talk about. They were certain I was embarrassed, after only a few minutes of knowing me (or not really knowing me). They found out a few things about my personal life such as what relatives lived with me and what I study at college. They are so quick to judge, if I were to judge them I would say they haven’t had a proper education. In fact I have convinced myself that when I get my A-Level maths qualification in the summer I will be a better qualified psychologist than them. Yes, I’m convinced. The whole way they act, they believe they know my life story without talking to me, they think they know everything I am thinking. They told me what they “know” I am thinking, and it wasn’t. They don’t seem to want to discuss it very much, so I don’t really have much of a chance to tell them. I wouldn’t want to talk to someone as rude as them anyway.

So they were stuck, their detective skills were unable to figure out everything so they brought my mum in the room. They then talked to my mum as if I weren’t in the room. How was he growing up? Was he dropped on the head is what they were getting at. How is his relationship with his family? What he abused by anyone in the family is what they were getting at. What does he do with his friends? Is he a drug abuser or a prostitute is what they were getting at. How rude, I was wondering if I was invisible at this point. I was beginning to think I was Harry Potter was the invisibility cloak, and Hagrid was about to come at take me to Hogwarts, which would explain why I don’t fit in around here.

The talking went on and on. I can’t remember everything they said as they just talked, didn’t care about me being involved in the conversation, only about making me feel bad. They dropped a lot of hints to make me force them to tell them everything, but they wouldn’t ask me. They hinted at me getting kicked out of college if I don’t tell them, but I’ll talk to my college tomorrow and confirm this isn’t true. They were saying I will be stuck like this forever if I don’t tell them, but I never knew the cure for depression was talking to rude, inconsiderate people. Eventually they allowed me and my mum to leave. Yes, the guy with a plan on killing himself was allowed to walk out of the government organisation designed to keep him safe.

So in the end you can see I am very angry. I was expecting more. One of the questions on the questionnaire was talking about if I wanted help, and I said yes to it so they can’t say I didn’t ask. Even if I didn’t, you would expect them to try and help me. I’m sure a lot of the people who get put on mental wards do not ask for help. I’m not even saying they had to put me in hospital, I received no help for keeping safe or anything. They didn’t tell me to stay with other people to keep safe. They are threatening me saying I must tell them more information during the next meeting or else I won’t be able to work with them. The threat isn’t very good because I don’t really want to talk to anyone like them. I’ll be glad to get them out of my life.

Now comes the honest part. I hope they get fired. I will complain to my local MP, I will complain to CAMHS, and I will complain to the government. They need to review these people who are meant to be helping me, and if this is a CAMHS-wide problem the whole organisation should be reviewed. If they don’t want to help me, I hope they get fired. After all, their job is to help me.

So what help will I receive now? I still have my college counsellor to talk to, who is far more helpful. I am going to see my GP tomorrow as well, and I’ll tell them what disgusting people I had to put up with today. Yes, I’m angry. But at least I have my readers to comfort me, how is everyone else doing?

The Chronicles of the Tablets: Not In Hospital Yet

This is a follow-up post based on what has happened to me, basically about the small overdose of anti-anxiety tablets which is till affecting me. It happened on Saturday evening and I am still suffering from chest pains and the occasional stomach pain, this post will update you on the situation. If you want to read more (previous) posts they are linked below in chronological order:
1) Please Kill Me – Things That Make Me Depressed
2) Thinking To Myself About Suicide
3) The Swallowing of the Tablets
4) The Chronicles of the Tablets: What’s Happening To Me…

Okay, so my lovely readers deserve to know what is going on. During the writing of my last post, my mum was on the phone to the NHS. The NHS did not bring an ambulance! I’m not actually surprised as they booked an appointment for me to see a GP within a few hours. A few hours passed and my mum got a phone call from the GP that I do not need to see them. I have no idea why, I have not been given an explanation. I do not know if my mum knows, but I am not going to answer.

Today I went back to college (the day after they sent me home) and spoke to the college counsellor. They explained why they had to send me home, because of the risk of me harming myself, and that they are still here for me whenever I need them. The one thing I remember them saying is that if the tablets were anti-depressants I would have definitely been in hospital but since they were anti-anxiety tablets I was fine (well… not as bad). My college counsellor booked me an appointment for my CAMHS counsellor tomorrow, who I don’t enjoy speaking to but can give me better help since they are connected to the NHS.

Right now I am thinking about what to say tomorrow. I know that if I tell my CAMHS counsellor I am thinking and planning suicide they will have to put me into hospital (due to them being connected to the NHS). I am deciding whether to do it. I can also predict the comments on this post now I have said that. Anyway… yes, I have to go to the counsellor tomorrow. That’s all!

That’s not all! If I don’t go to hospital tomorrow I will do another one of my helpful articles tomorrow (if you want something specific, tell me in the comments). I haven’t decided exactly what it will be on yet. Also, I need to do more poems!

The Chronicles of the Tablets: What’s Happening To Me…

This is a follow-up post based on what has happened to me, basically about the small overdose of anti-anxiety tablets which is till affecting me. It happened on Saturday evening and I am still suffering from chest pains and the occasional stomach pain, this post will update you on the situation. If you want to read more (previous) posts they are linked below in chronological order:
1) Please Kill Me – Things That Make Me Depressed
2) Thinking To Myself About Suicide
3) The Swallowing of the Tablets

I’ve received a lot of advice from my friend and from many of my readers about seeing a doctor if I still have overdose symptoms. I haven’t seen a doctor yet. I went to college today and talked to the college counsellor about the incident of Saturday. Actually, I did not talk much except for the first few minutes where I explained what happened, then she asked a lot of questions which I replied to with “no” or “don’t know”. She then broke confidentiality and rang my mum. I’ve been taken home, and I presume I am going to be locked in my own home for the rest of the day unless something else happens.

As I type this my mum is on the phone to the NHS 111 number, getting advice about me. The only thing about this that I worry about is that they will have to put me in hospital, so if you do not hear from me in the next day I am probably in hospital. I imagine they are going to make me go to hospital to check I am fine after the overdose, and then they will send me to a mental health ward (because I’m still a bit suicidal). I always say I don’t want to go to hospital, and I’m still not sure about it.

In regards to my physical health, I am still feelings chest pains. I would call them heart pains but I don’t know if that is a real thing. I was having some bad stomach pains last night too but they have stopped. I have tried to talk to my friend but they are away still, and now I am probably locked in my house so I don’t see how I can see them. The whole time I have been writing this, my mum has been on the phone to the NHS so I am unsure whether they are about to do anything. I will write another update later if I am fine and not in hospital, so goodbye for now.

P.S. She is giving my name and address so does that mean an ambulance?

The Swallowing of the Tablets

After my previous talk of suicide I decided I had to do something. Today has been a rollercoaster of a day for me, it started off well but turned disastrous quite quickly. After receiving my tablets from the GP yesterday I knew I was going to do something bad, and today was the day for it.

Click here to read the post where I explained what I hoped to do today.

Shortly before midnight I called the Samaritans helpline. I don’t usually call the helplines as I don’t find them as useful as the email chat from Samaritans and the 1-2-1 chat from Childline. I gave it a chance though. It didn’t help much, the advice I got in the end was to speak to my GP who I can’t actually see until Thursday (or I could see another GP on Monday – still days away). Still hopeless, the next thing on my list was to call my friend… they didn’t answer. I sent them a text asking them to call me as soon as they can.

It was now roughly 30 minutes past midnight and I’m sitting up in bed, this is the beginning of a sleepless night, I can sense it. Then my phone vibrates, I dash to pick it up knowing it would be my friend (nobody really calls me after midnight). With the phone in my hand I quietly walked downstairs so that my family would not hear the conversation if they were awake. Despite them not knowing much about depression, my friend promised they would try to help me. We agreed that I needed to get rid of the tablets but they were away so they couldn’t take them from me. I would throw them away in the morning.

So back to my bedroom I go and I can’t sleep. I attempt to get to sleep but it fails so I load up my laptop and look at some college work. I can’t get the college work done so I download some music and just listen, I need to relax. The time was 4:30am when I finally got to sleep but I woke up at 8am so I had less than 4 hours of sleep. I guess that could effect my thinking for the day ahead.

First part? Think about the tablets. It was the only thing on my mind on Friday, and would be the only thing on my mind today. To distract myself I try to focus on less depressing things, but my mind drifts back to harming myself. This time I think about my knife. Where is it? I can’t find it, how am I meant to cut myself? I search all over my room, desperately hoping it will appear. But it is nowhere to be found. This makes me both angry and disappointed, not a good combination. I spent the rest of the morning feels depressed and wanting to harm myself.

Click here to read “Please Kill Me – Things That Make Me Depressed”, the post that started this off.

In the afternoon I grabbed my jacket and filled my pockets with specific items. Some money, headphones, my phone, a notepad… and of course my tablets and some rope. If you have read some of my previous posts you will know I always seem to go to the park when I think about suicide, which is exactly what I did today. Although of the way I spent some of the money on two drinks, both for myself. When I arrived at the park I looked for a suitable spot the do the deed.

I placed the drinks down beside a tree, away from where the people were walking. I then took the tablets out of my pocket and took one from the foil. With the help of the drink I bought the tablet went down. One done. I quickly moved onto the second tablet, and it went down with ease. Two tablets done so far. I moved on to the third tablet, and within a couple of minutes I had already taken three of my fourteen tablets, this was going to be easy I thought. I took a short break. During this break my chest began to hurt. It was not a horrible pain, but it was noticeable and clearly related to the tablets I took.

Back onto taking the tablets. I managed to get the fourth one down before I realised exactly what I was doing. After taking the fourth tablet I questioned myself. Why am I doing this? Well… there isn’t any point in living. I knew I could not persuade myself to get out of the situation so I remembered some of the comments from you readers. In particular the comments by amandaquirky. Then I tried to call my friend but they would not answer (checking back later, I realised I rang them four times in this period of time). Nope, I was going to continue. Four tablets down, ten to go.

Getting darker the skies are!

Getting darker the skies are!

I decided to move location, to the bushes in the park where less people would see me since it was beginning to get dark. I left one of the drinks behind which I had almost finished, but took everything else. When I got to the bushes I moved quickly onto the fifth tablet. Down! After the walking, and then taking the tablet I was starting to feel a little dizzy. I could still walk fine but I was a bit dizzy, and the chest pains were getting slightly worse. It was all still bearable so I took the sixth tablet. After the sixth tablet I just stood there, possibly for 15 minutes. Doing absolutely nothing. Not because of any pains (I still feeling alright) but because I was fighting with myself to stop.

Taking everything with me, I walked away from the park. I had to get away, I didn’t want to take any more tablets. Or part of me didn’t, the other part was still expecting more. That’s when I took the seventh tablet. As soon as I swallowed the tablet I poured the drink on the ground so that I could not swallow any more tablets. That was the end of that. A success you might call it… except as I walked home the suicidal thoughts were still in my mind. I still had the rope I began with, I could still attempt something. On the sides of the path were benches so I sat down to think. It was dark now, which I always believe is a better time to hang myself (if I ever do it). I spent another 15 minutes thinking about it.

Fortunately the evening was not eventful after that, I made it home. The dizziness had completely gone, but the chest pains were still there and they had been joined by stomach pains. I got home over two hours ago, the chest pains have gone but the stomach pains are still there. I guess that is what happens when you take more tablets than you should. I could say I have learned my lesson, but I will be fighting depression tomorrow and the day after, and it’s always the same fight on a different battlefield.