I've not posted on my blog for ages. Thought I'd write an update for you all, and start telling my story again.

My last post finished where I had just been admitted to a psychiatric ward after taking an overdose.
At first, I refused to leave my room, and simply lay motionless on the bed. I refused food and drink for the first 24 hours and refused to speak to anybody. It was such a scary thing - I'd never been in a psychiatric unit before and I just didn't know what to expect.

At that time, it was still acceptable to smoke in and on the hospital grounds. This unit had a smoke room, and the only reason I ever left my room in the first day or so was to go to the smoke room, each time wishing that it would be empty.
After a few times of going, the inevitable happened. Somebody was in the smoke room. I sat down and didn't say a word. And then the young lad asked me my name. He was about the same age as me at the time - 18. He seemed nice and it made me feel a little bit more confident now that I had spoken to another patient.

After a few days I had pretty much settled in on the ward. The staff were really good and were always around to listen if anybody wanted to talk.

I felt really low for quite a few weeks until my moods then started going up and down. For the psychiatrist it was all about getting my medications right. For the nursing staff it was about being open and honest.

I'd been on the ward for a few weeks when one day something happened. Up until this point, nobody including myself had any idea what was causing so much distress. I remember walking down the coridoor towards the smoking room, when suddenly an image flashed in my mind. It only last a few seconds, but what I saw sent chills down my spine. That was when I realised what the real underlying problem was. Childhood abuse.

Self harm is not enough anymore

My previous posts have been explaining how my self harm became more prominent when I started cutting myself. This one is about how things came to a head. How it came out to my friends and family.


That night is still stuck in my mind like it was only yesterday. That feeling I had inside me, a feeling that was simply eating away at me, had eaten my whole insides. I can't put it into words how I felt. All I know is that it felt that bad I couldn't keep living that way. That constant feeling of dread, not knowing how I was going to manage to get through a day. I still feel it now as I'm writing - it's a feeling I'll never ever forget.


I sat on my bed and counted out the tablets I'd been saving. Obsessing over how many of each I had, sorting them into piles, and recounting them all again. I left them on my bed and went out. It was October, freezing cold outside, raining and dark. I went to the park not far from where I lived. Stupidly I didn't feel scared walking alone in a park in the pitch black at night. I couldn't have cared less if somebody hurt me. I sat near the pond on a bench, phone in my hand and called the crisis team to try and get some help. As I was talking to a lady on the phone, I began walking frantically. I ended up lost. I had no idea where I'd been going and took no notice either. She urged me to go home, but I knew if I went back there I'd take the tablets. Yet she still insisted, and after an hour or so I arrived home to an empty house.


Back in my room I started swallowing the tablets one by one. I was frightened now. Did I really want to die alone? No! This wasn't right. I text my house mate, she urged me to go to hospital straight away.


Sitting in the waiting room in A&E that night, I wished I had taken the tablets and not told anyone. And then, the feeling suddenly smacked me in the face as I turned to see my mum standing there. I immediately burst into tears and broke down in her arms. I blurted it all out, told her I just can't cope, I've been self harming, I feel so horrible. she held me tightly. And I felt so relieved. For the first time, my mum knew everything that was going on with me, and she didn't react as I thought she would. She didn't hate me, or punish me, or shout at me. She held me tight, told me that she loved me and promised me everything would be ok.


I was then taken through to see a doctor, and spoke honestly about my feelings. I was kept in A&E overnight and then transferred back to my local hospital for an assessment with the psychiatrist I'd been seeing from the CMHT.


She calmly explained she wanted to admit me to the ward for 48 hours to help me get my mood under control, and at that moment I couldn't have given a damn what happened to me. They took me into the ward and I lay on the bed, wishing I'd taken those tablets. I felt so bad about mum and my sister - I'd let them down so much and they must be hurting really bad now.


What had I done?


You know, all I wanted to do at that moment in time, was hurt myself. Yet I couldn't even motivate myself to do anything more than breathe. So I just lay there, for hours.

I can't live without you, but please go away!!

Part 2, following on from "The drug that is self harm".

So, self harm had become my life. I couldn't function (or, felt I couldn't function) without it. Not only could I now not get to sleep if I'd not harmed myself, I felt I couldn't start the day without it. Then, I felt myself wanting to harm myself throughout the day. That question that once baffled me... "How can harming yourself be addictive?" now made perfect sense.

I was at uni at the time, being careful not to cut my arms. As a student nurse, my arms were on show whenever I had my uniform on. And it wouldn't look good to parents on the poorly kids I was looking after if I went over with cuts all over myself. On the outside I looked fine. I was able to put on my regular "happy" face and fool everyone around me into believing I was a carefree, blissfully happy teenager! My thighs told a very different story.

Looking back the cutting was the first sign of things to come. Though I didn't realise just how much things were going to change.

Within a few weeks my anxiety levels were causing havoc wherever I went. I found it difficult to hide my anxiety. If I was walking down the street and saw somebody coming towards me, I would cross over the road to avoid walking past them. I couldn't empty my bladder in public or if somebody was near the bathroom in the house. On nights out, I had to leave early because I felt claustrophobic in pubs. I began isolating myself, refusing to answer my phone because I was too anxious to speak to people.

Mainly because of the anxiety, I started seeing a counsellor at the uni I was at. It took me a good few weeks to tell her about the self harm - I felt so ashamed and confused. I was terrified she'd tell somebody or think I was attention seeking. And also, I didn't want anybody to make me stop - the thought of living without self harm made me feel sick. I wanted it to go away, yet I couldn't live without it!

Over a few months, my state of mind gradually deteriorated. My counsellor had to inform my tutor of the self harm as she was growing increasingly concerned about it getting worse. I was assessed by a psychiatrist at Occupational Health and suspended from practice on medical grounds.

Only a few weeks after that, my counsellor arranged a meeting with her, my GP and myself. I remember sitting there, staring at the same spot on the floor as I told him that I just didn't want to live any more. It was the same doctor who wanted to put me on antidepressants, but Id refused, for fear of becoming addicted to them. My GP referred me to the Community Mental Health Team for assessment, and that afternoon I met with a social worker.

This was now becoming terrifying. More and more people were getting involved. It was hard enough that my counsellor knew about the self harm, but now, there was my tutor, occupational health, my GP, the CMHT. I started to freak out.

More time passed and soon enough the crisis team were involved. I was now dreading going to bed at night, the worst time, where I would lie in bed dreading waking up in the morning to face yet another gruelling day. I couldn't explain my feelings - I still struggle to verbalise the distress I felt at that time. The one question that everyone desperately wanted an answer to; "why do you feel so bad?" was the one question I asked myself every minute of every day. I hated my life. I hated that my friends coped and I couldn't. I hated that nobody know how bad I felt. I hated myself for lying to my family and hiding it all from them. Unbeknown to me, they would soon find out about the self harm. But how would they react?

My next post will reveal all. xxx

The drug that is self harm

Good evening!!

Kerri

Just thought I'd introduce myself a bit more, for those who don't know much about No Secrets.
I'm Kerri and I co-founded No Secrets with my mum in 2007.


I've self harmed as long as I can remember. When I was younger, I would bang my head against doors/walls/floors. I would shine torches in my eyes, or put creams/lotions in my eyes. I would scratch myself, pinch myself, punch myself. But the weird thing is, I thought this was something that everyone did, even though I never witnessed my friends doing similar things.


As a teenager, I supported other teens on a website, who struggled with various things, self harm included. I used to hate getting emails from people who self harmed, because I never knew what to say or suggest. I just couldn't understand why somebody would want to hurt themselves to avoid pain.


If I'm honest, I did think the majority of time, that it was about attention seeking, all the while, not realising that I too was self harming, as another of my somewhat discriminatory views was that everyone who self harms cuts themselves.


And lastly, I thought that if people didn't want to carry on self harming, that they could simply stop. I mean, how could hurting or injuring yourself be addictive? I would find out!


I was 18 when I realised I had a problem with self harm, when I started cutting myself. The first time I did it, it was just so 'normal' and 'natural' - as if I was doing my hair, having a drink or something. I couldn't sleep, I was restless, confused, numb & overwhelmed. I got out of bed, cut myself, cleaned myself up and went to sleep - only really thinking about what I'd done the day after when my legs were stinging. And that's how it started. From then on, I couldn't get to sleep if I hadn't harmed myself.


Suddenly, I understood why people cause themselves pain to avoid pain & how it helps them understand things. I couldn't see my emotional turmoil inside, all those overwhelming feelings. I couldn't see them, I couldn't explain them, I couldn't express them. They were so painful it was unbelievable. Yet when I hurt myself, I could see why I was hurting... having an injury on my body made it easier for me to understand pain. And no matter how badly I injured myself, or how much it hurt me, it never hurt me like I was hurting inside. It was easier to focus on the physical pain, because the emotional pain hurt me more than anything else could.


I also realised that this isn't an attention seeking behaviour for most people. I went for months and months without anybody knowing what I was doing to myself. It was my secret. The thought of others finding out about it filled me with dread. I didn't want attention, hence why I was hiding my behaviour and my injuries.


And that other thought, that it was easy for people to stop it when they wanted to - that dissolved after the first time I cut myself. I found out, after that first night, that self harm IS addictive. I felt like I couldn't live without it. I felt so much worse if I hadn't self harmed. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't understand myself, I couldn't handle anything. Self harm for me, had become like a drug that took the edge off how bad I felt.


It was only with time, as I ran out of space on my legs, then arms, that I realised, self harm wasn't my friend. It wasn't this great drug that helped me. It was slowly destroying me and my body. IT had control of me. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get away from it. It was all I thought about, day and night. It became my life.


Part 2 coming soon :-) xx

First ever post

Welcome to our blog.
I hope to share many things with you here, to offer you hope with self harm, to let you know you are not alone & to raise awareness to help tackle stigma and myth surrounding self-injury.

"No Secrets" was co-founded in 2007 by myself (kerri) and my mum. We were both really struggling with my self harming and there was no support at all. So we decided to bring the support to us. No Secrets was born and we've never looked back. Its been a brilliant journey so far and I've met the most amazing people & some life long friends. My own self harm has reduced gradually, and rather than self harm many times every day i now only do it once every few months when things feel too much. I put that down to many things but mainly the support i have found from everyone involved in NoSecrets. Thank you everyone :-)

Will do my best to update regularly, so until next time take care of yourselves and have a look at our website, http://nosecrets.moonfruit.com

Xxx