fridatheexistence

You hated yourself. It was weak, it was stupid, it was despicable.

As the blood ran down your arms like mud, your tears finally dried up; eternally leaking, you felt as if a secret and shameful misery was festering inside your soul and only this – horrible and senseless as it was – could ease the pressure of the bubbling and churning pit of agony in you.

It felt dirty; nothing clean could ever come out of you and the sight of the oozing liquid – looking pitch black in the moonlight – filled you with deep shame.

When you returned to the company, you did your best to pretend that you had not spent the last few minutes frantically digging your dagger into your own skin and watching yourself bleed until the swelling of the indignant flesh had stemmed the trickling flow of impurity and frailty that you tried to hide.

“Are you alright?” Legolas looked up sharply; did he smell the blood? Could he hear your heart roar in your chest?

“I am quite…alright,” you used the same word, only it sounded feeble from your pale, cracked lips.

“You don’t look well,” Gimli agreed with his friend’s worries, “what is the matter?”

Automatically, you tried to turn away from their eyes; you could have dealt with anger, with suspicion, or even with outright pity, but they did not put themselves above you, no, they were worried about one of their own and their gazes expressed concern more than arrogant judgement or disgust.

“Walk with me,” Aragorn asked you gently, leading you back onto the path you had just emerged from.

“How can I help you?” he asked as if it was understood that he knew exactly what you had done.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you tried to deny what seemed so painfully obvious to the others.

Ever since that morning when you had dried your long-sleeved tunic at the edge of the water and everyone had seen the pale scars criss-crossing your arms, they knew; you trusted them with your life so you had decided that you might also entrust your deepest, darkest, dirtiest secret to them.

“Why would you hurt yourself?” Merry and Pippin had been horrified at the mere idea; to them, life was something wonderful that was to be enjoyed fully and pain was merely the price one had to pay. Never in a thousand years would they have wilfully harmed themselves if there was no fun to be had in return; moreover, they had been aghast at the thought that a dear friend of theirs was in such mental pain that they’d decide breaching the integrity of their own skin.

Sam had simply put a small vial into the palm of your hand with the whispered comment that a cut was but a cut until one got a nasty infection. He accepted that there were a million things in the world that he did not understand from the get-go, but Sam was fiercely loyal.

There was not a hurt that would go untended under his care and – no matter whether one had chosen one’s lot or not – he was not the kind of soul to deny anyone help, even if they had brought their fate upon themselves.

“You are precious,” Frodo had smiled sadly, “and it pains me to see that you’re not aware of it.” His tiny, sturdy hand – a hand that held the destiny of Middle-Earth – had closed around yours as if to stay it from inflicting further harm upon yourself.

“Battle-scars are battle-scars,” Boromir had shrugged awkwardly, “even if I cannot see the enemy, I can believe that it’s there and I am ready to fight it.”

With a small side-hug, he had pulled you closer and whispered: “Don’t let them know, but I have come to realise that these fellows might know a trick or two yet unknown to us ignorant humans; let’s pool our knowledge and resources to find a better way to fight and defeat whatever ails you.”

Just like Gimli, Boromir was a practical man, a warrior, a fighter, and a true friend; he had accepted that you were struggling and simply asked you to seek the council and solace of your friends before engaging in the same pig-headed way of dealing with things that had not led to any success this far.

“Oh,” Legolas’ eyes had been as deep as his native forest and almost as sad, “I have heard of souls flickering desperately before petering out; is that what is happening to you?”

You wished you could have said ‘no’, but you had shrugged sheepishly. How could you explain the pain raging inside your heart and soul to someone so pristinely pure and gentle as Legolas?

His was a long and blessed life, the integrity of his graceful body was a gift to be cherished and celebrated, and his people had much more experience with the rise and fall of empires, dynasties, and great hopes.

How could he ever fathom the petty, desperate, pitiful railing of a human soul against the profound unfairness of having so little time at your disposal and yet being denied a single drop of unadulterated happiness?

His life was song and prayer, yours was struggle and almost childish petulance at how much you wanted to live and how tired you were of trying to.

“I am sorry,” you sighed.

“Do not be sorry, my friend,” Aragorn gave you a gentle smile; always in-between, trying to do right by everyone and secretly afraid of failing, he might well have been the person who understood you the best.

“You do not owe us anything,” he went on softly, “the only person you might let down is yourself!”

“I am not the only person hurt though, am I?” you asked tonelessly, remembering Gandalf’s heartbroken expression when he saw scars so numerous, they would have brought great honour to many a seasoned warrior but that were so incongruous and cruel on the flawless skin of one so young and tender yet.

“We are worried about you,” Aragorn admitted, stopping under the wispy, comforting canopy of a large tree, “and it pains me to know that you’d not come to any of us for help and solace.”

“I did not want to bother you,” you whispered, ashamed of your relapse as much as of the wistful expression your weakness had brought into his gaze.

“One day,” he said, staring at the distant horizon, “they might write stories about us, and they’ll pick and choose the best attributes for their rhymes…but we, my friend, we are the chroniclers of our own story.”

He turned back to you, gripping both your shoulders in his broad, callused hands as he spoke insistently: “You are part of that story and I’d much rather you share the truth of it with us; let us keep note of your darkest nights, let us bear the brunt of your most violent storms, let us be there for you.”

“I…” you didn’t know what to say.

“You want to carve your pain into skin? Boromir can stomach pain, Legolas heals quickly, Gimli has tough skin, and I have suffered worse,” he smiled, baring his arm to you, “if you want to eternalise your struggle with blades on flesh, I offer you mine!”

“NO!” you cried, that was absurd, you’d never hurt a friend like that.

“Now you know how we might feel about this,” he said gently, careful not to press you too much, “we’ve talked about this, and you said that sometimes, the pressure gets too strong to withstand. Come to us! Do you think we are strangers to expectations and the crushing weight of the world on our shoulders? We can offer other ways of venting and you may try them all until we find one that works.”

You sighed deeply; he was right. From walks to songs, from cooking to sparring, from brooding silence to frantic babbling, they all had their way of dealing with the hell you had

fallen into and that nobody would make it out alive from if you failed in your quest.

“There are better things to do with blades – axes, knives, arrows, swords – than to hurt one of the most precious souls in this world,” Aragorn shook you lightly, “now go and let Sam look at it.”

That night, after healing salve had been spread on the new cuts, Legolas sat next to you as you drifted over into sleep.

“You might want to curse a dwarf,” he whispered with a small chuckle, “father says it helps.”

A second later, he added with another bell-like peal of laughter: “Father also likes wine. If Gimli was not a dwarf, I think their shared fondness of beverages and seeking someone to fight with, when under stress, would make for a fond friendship between those two.”

You did not truly know where he was going with this, but the sound of his voice was soothing and so, you let him talk you to sleep, smiling to yourself when his cool hand slipped into yours as if to tether you to the earthly plain.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, already half-asleep.

“You’re doing just fine,” he replied, having counted the days since the last occurrence and the one before and finding – much to his relief and satisfaction – that those breakdowns happened with decreasing frequency and lasted for a shorter period, “it will be alright. We all learn as we go, we all heal as we grow, and – as my mother used to say – it will all be well in the end, if it’s not, it only means it’s not yet the end.”

You wondered when Legolas had become so wise, but sleep pulled you under and – against all odds and your own expectations – you slept soundly and peacefully through the night

Dear anon, I'll be keeping an eye on my inbox :D

Please do not suffer alone; this goes for all of you out there, please do not suffer alone! Reach out, make friends, talk to someone! I am right here!

It was an honour to be asked to write this and I hope I could do this immensely important subject justice.

Cutting, also known as self harm or self injury, can be a heck of a struggle to break- shit, I've been fighting for 5 years and ongoing. You're not alone in this. Let your cool emo older brother help out.

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Information: What is cutting? Why do people do it?

What is self harm? Self-harm is when someone would deliberately hurt their bodies- whether that be cutting, hitting or something of the like. This post is cut focused. -

Why do I do it? People sometimes cut as a way to cope with strong physical or emotional pain, distress, suicidal thoughts or some kind of punishment. But really, there's no 'why' to cover every single reason. It's individualistic. It's valid. Don't ever think you're not. Scientifically, the rush you get from the pain, the adrenaline that's released into your bloodstream- that's why you do it. For that moment of relief, that need to hurt yourself to feel alive or to feel something. -

How can I stop/Why should I stop? It takes time, especially if you're a frequent cutter. Again, that rush you get from pain can be as hard to break as drug or alcohol use. The thing is, this is way more life threatening than those. One wrong slip and you could slit an artery and bleed out in as quick as 5 minutes. Think about that one person that keeps you going- what would they do if they found you covered in a pool of your own blood, motionless, gone from this world. What would they say? Think about the panic of you running up to your parents after hiding it for so long, gushing out and begging for them to call an ambulance because you don't want to die? Morbid. I know. But those are thoughts that keep me up at night, thoughts that allow me to keep pushing back the urge.

Tip!: Baby oil can help reduce the appearance of scars overtime! Massage it into the area once a day and you should start to see fading in a week :)

Think about your reason, write it down. Remember it.

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Cutting Kit: Though I still strongly believe you shouldn't, here's stuff you should keep around for if/when you have a relapse.

Antiseptic. Clean your wounds and keep your items just as clean. Infections can kill you as quick as bleeding out if it gets into your bloodstream. -

Lighter. Run the flame over your blade to get some of the nasties off to prevent infection. This doesn't sterilize your blade, it stops the spread of germs. Never place the hot metal onto your skin though. -

Bandaids & bandages. Cover up fresh wounds and replace bandaids often to stop dirt or germs entering. -

Steri-strips. These help close wounds that may have opened up too much, they aren't stitches but they do the job. -

Wipes. I prefer the cooling kind to calm the sting of the cuts. They're better for cleaning fresh blood than tissues, plus tissues breakdown easier when exposed to liquids- you don't wanna get that stuff in your wound. -

Paper towel/toilet paper. To use when the bleeding has calmed down, press firmly on the wound to soak it up and to help with the blood clotting.

Tip!: If you need to cut, cut on your inner thigh. It’s easier to hide and there’s less chance of hitting a major vein or artery.

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Prevention Methods: What I find helps. Dive into some more methods to help yourself out too.

Rubber band/hair tie. Snapping something against my wrist has helped me hold off for quite some time now. It gives me that pang without permanently scarring my body. -

Exercise. Due to food being one of the main reasons I self harm, exercising helps put my brain at ease with no need for punishment. -

Hobbies. I play guitar, I draw, I write poems or stories, I read. Anything to take my mind off of the reason why I want to cut. -

Calling people. My partner is my go to. I go and piss off my sister too, she makes me laugh. And she's one of the reasons I'm still here. -

Crying. Crying. Crying gets all of my emotions out- sometimes gives me a headache and exhausts me. But hey, at least I didn't relapse. -

Stop, think. Stop and think- why? Why am I about to do this? What could I be doing instead? How can I fix my feelings? -

Put it off. Just put it off for five minutes, see if you feel the same way- rinse and repeat. -

Butterfly. I get my friends to draw on my arms, butterflies or their names specifically. If I cut, I kill the butterflies or I hurt my friends. -

This!! Yep! This blog is one of my methods to avoid hurting myself :)

Tip!: It's better to resist than it is to regret.

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Relapse: What happens if you slip up and relapse.

Don't panic. Things happen, what's been done is done. Breathe, calm down. -

Clean your wounds. Grab out your little kit, clean up the mess and your open cuts. Make sure they're covered so they don't get infected. -

Cry. It's okay to cry, whether its been two days or two years- things happen. Relapses happen. It's not lost progress, think about how much time you were clean for and how much more you can keep trying :) -

Reflect. Why did this happen? Why did you do it? See if you can avoid future situations like this in the future to stay safe.

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If you're in immediate danger, please- call your local emergency number. You're not in this alone <3

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