The more I try, the harder it gets. That simple. God I wish that it would really work like I thought it would. It was just a simple way to express myself. It left me calm when I was done. It left me in a place of peace.. sullen.. but in a place of peace. It was only minutes after that I my mind would tell me, Courtney pick up that goddamn phone.. What the hell is wrong with you? Normal people dont cut themselves. I never really stopped to think what this would do to the other people around me. I was talking to someone the other day and he told me that it sounds like I want to get better more for my mother then for myself. Which in a huge way is particially true. I could live onward cutting and be perfectly fine with it. But there would always be the danger that my mother would find out.. and there would go her hopes of her A & B student, Social and Pretty, Creative and Ambitious daughter... And she would discover I was slowly losing my own reality. I couldn't express how so felt even with my own writings that I so desperately want to be published. That I had to resort to razors, knifes, needles..everything but the normal expressions. Well, somehow I fought enough courage to tell her. To show her the marks on my wrists. The first words out of her mouth. "You want to kill yourself?" I could have just gone mute forever at that moment. Me: "NO I DO NOT WANT TO DIE MOTHER!" At this point I was crying hysterically.. and just wanted nothing more for her to perhaps now understand why I had grown away from her. Why we didn't talk anymore. Why I stayed away from the house as long as I could. Why Brant was becoming a fast growing friend. Why I didn't do homework anymore.. Why I just couldn't concentrate on anything but hiding those regretful cuts. But no! She didn't understand. And all my wantings of her to just... understand me for once were gone. She was on the assumption that I wanted to kill myself. It was after that statement that I ended the conversation. I told her that I needed help. That simple. And that if she could get me help that would be the last thing that I would ever need from her. It had taken since September 21st to November 14th to work up the courage. To live within my small hell before I had people encourage me... "Courtney, therapy doesn't mean you're a fuck up. It's intervention so you dont fuck up." Well it's November 23rd now.. and every small attempt my mother has made at 'helping' me has failed. She didnt call the Therapist place until two days ago and even then all she can do is leave a message. It hurts so bad. Since about November 12 was when I last cut.. and ever since then.. every goddamn time I wanted to so badly I would just say to myself. "Courtney, you're getting help, you dont need to do this." But I'm wearing thin. I probably wont get what I so wanted from my mother. I dont even ask for anything anymore! Clothes, books, food... items of material possession. And the one time I asked her for something worth my while.. something that could prevent the mental illness' in my family!! :closes eyes: I dont know. It's consuming me, the very thought that I could be falling into a mental illness. Somedays I absolutely believe it. .And it tears me up inside. I wanted to be so perfect for everyone. To be the one in my family that went to College. The one who got her book published. The one who succeeded! But to think that I might have inherited genetically my cousin's bi polar-ness, my other cousin's chronic depression.. Of course I doubt that I've collected my own mother's habit of anorexia..1. I dont think it's genetic. 2. I dont think that I'm fat, although at times like normal girls my age I believe that I could shed a few pounds. I guess thats one place where I can smile in and know, "Atleast you aren't fucked up in that way." I'm too much of a goddamn perfectionist. I dont know why I want to be perfect for them, because I dont want to be perfect for myself. Not even my friends can help me now, because god knows they've tried before. I've no faith, so what's the use praying to something I believe doesn't exist. It's dark in this corner.. and all I can do is sit and wait for help to come. All this depending on my mother, which will probably never happen in a million years. She's in denial. She wants me to be her perfect daughter she knew back in the 6th grade. Well Mom, I can't be that girl anymore. And when I figure out why, you'll be the first to know.
Courtney