Updated: Jul 26, 2020
I cut my arm the other day. I went to seek a sharp object and found my favorite spot on my arm and started cutting. I have been in quarantine for over a month and I was left alone for an hour by my husband. He wouldn’t have left me if he knew how low I was and what I was capable of doing.
I haven’t self-harmed in three years. Then I ended up in the emergency room with thoughts of killing myself. You see, I didn’t know I was bipolar and I was on a medication that caused suicidal thoughts if you are bipolar. It was like climbing up a rollercoaster, slow. I didn’t know how high I had gotten until I reached the top. Then it was a fast descend into self-harm and wanting to kill myself. Had I have looked down while the rollercoaster was going up, I may have been fine. But no, I ended up needing to have sharp objects hidden for three months.
I got a tattoo on my wrist of a sun when I started to feel better and the thoughts dwindled to only a few times a month. I tell people it is because of the Beatles song, “here comes the sun.” But I know it is where I wanted to slit my wrist and watch the blood drain out.
It took me three months of therapy and hard work to bring me back to a good state. But I found help that I was not just depressed but was also bipolar with anxiety. It took 6 months to find the right dose and drug to start feeling like I was a functioning human.